Closed Sullen Shopping [Fallon]

[Zandelia]

The display was interesting to say the least, the way Bitzer seemed to go rigid and cheeks flared red before she settled once more. Still elusive, still unfathomable at the core but Zandelia fancied that she was beginning to figure out some of the edges of the woman that had helped her with her armour. The fingers were deft, mechanically efficient as they buckled the straps and fingered the tightness for efficiency. The job that Bitzer performed was done both quickly and ably and thus gave her insight into the fact that she was used to such things. This was not an entire surprise but it was interesting that she knew the name of the thigh guards – most mercenaries did not bother to know them. She had been focused upon the task at hand but once done all but jumped back as if burned.

So the theory is proven, if in a rather cruelly intimate way. She dislikes touching beyond that which she decides and in the way she decides. And yet she almost invites interest from me. She is conflicted perhaps…but why? Past events? Has she been spurned before and her heart broken? she asked herself as she strapped her weapons in place – dagger to her left thigh and throwing blades at her left shoulder.

It was with courtly politeness that Bitzer treated her now, though as they exited it turned to a scornful oath at her expense and she smiled at that – another forceful and all too natural reaction. Another piece of the puzzle. She did not seem overly mad, more confused and embarrassed than anything else. The gaze challenged her and refused to break as she stared back firmly as she smiled. Orvin ran around them excitedly as she rubbed her arm gently and tilted her head.

“Well I had to do something to get my goods cheaper and he was such a letch it seemed appropriate,” she responded slowly, “but perhaps I did push it a bit too far and if so I apologized. After brushing my lips like a lover I thought you wouldn’t mind helping me with armour” she grinned then.

“But yes, your efforts will be rewards as I feel the need to get you a gift, something for us to share together you and I. Just us. It will distinguish us I promise, come” she took Bitzer’s arm again and led them towards the Castle Commons.

It was a short walk to the stalls proper and as they went along Zandelia purchased a small wooden pipe and a five ounce pouch of Blue Vision tobacco from one stall, a set of ivory dice that she saw a purpose for from another – all told she laid down a further 16 gold miza’s for her items before she squirrelled them away about her person. She kept Bitzer close throughout, leaving her only to exchange the coin and making sure she kept up what little bonding they had performed already – she sought to build a proper relationship with the woman after all and that required time.

“No, I do not seek to embarrass you Bitzer, I am sorry if I did. I shall remember your nervous disposition in the future, though I am curious as to why it only reared its head today so fully. I hope you are not so nervous in battle or I’ll end up having to o all of it for you” she teased gently.

“But fear not, for these robes will give you a way to hide from them if you like, isn’t that right seamstress?” she greeted the keeper of their final destination.

“Say you now?”

“I said, I’d like to have two cloaks made for us both from these robes. As thick and heavy as possible please and an inner lining that is as comfortable as you can make it” she enquired.

The woman looked them up and down, measuring them with her eyes and pursing her lips as she spread the fabric of the robes out to see how much there was. She nodded to herself as she measured with her hands and nodded a final time before looking at them again.

“Price?”

“Ten gold. You get given the material and so can’t say fairer than that. Good material to work too, won’t find its like any time soon”

“Leftovers?”

“Yours to keep. Long as the cloaks are good quality”

“Bah! Best cloaks around. I’ll need…three Bells no sooner”

“Done” she stated and then turned to Bitzer once more.

“See? I’m nice to my mistress aren’t I? We have time to kill how about that drink you promised? Unless you have anything else you wanted to get? I don't mind I am here to serve after all” she gave a theatrical bow then in mirror of the one Bitzer had given her earlier


ooc-26gm further (-81gm total)

[Fallon]

There was a blink to the grin, her brow rising and her head cocking to one side, ”Like a lover? I… Sorry, I shouldn’t have done that. I’ll try not to do it again.”

Not that Zandelia herself seemed too bothered anyway. Soon enough arms were linked once more and instead of Fallon herself doing the leading it was the woman. Which was perhaps for the better, her mindset was still far too stunned for thinking remotely coherently. It was still buzzing throughout their walking, plucking and replaying clips. Enough so that it sent her skin crawling. How could one allow themselves to do such a thing? To allow such intimacy with a stranger?

Then again, that was what whores and harlots were for. Filling in that missing piece. Not that Fallon could completely understand them still. Her mind flickered to Markus for a moment, her brow creasing and a low hum escaping. He was the only one she had allowed herself to get truly intimate with, but even then she was hesitant to do so. Fear, anxiety, those nagging insecurities. Pushing away the thought Fallon focused on what was ahead, and then finally caught what the woman was saying.

”What? A gift?” she was perplexed by the very thought, ”Why? I… Surely you jest?”

Obviously not. It seemed the case of when her mind was set to something there was no stopping her. Eyes followed the coin, then the items. Her ears twitching to the sound of trade and words, her lips pursing into a line as she continued to weigh up whether or not she could or could not object. If anything out of what possible conditions there may be. Although she trusted the woman to be a useful ally, she could not help but feel that more inappropriate advances would become a frequent occurrence.

Still, the reassurance that she chose not to seek further embarrassment was one thing at least. Not that she trusted it. Giving her a scrutinizing look, the mercenary raised a brow then turned her head to a stall full of trinkets in an attempt to force some distraction, ”I don’t get nervous in battle. I had that drilled out of me a long time ago, so have no fear on that factor. Supposedly I become quite efficient, but… I will let you be the judge of that as and when the need arises.”

There was a shrug, her hand reaching down to rub hat Orvin’s crown when he released a whine; the beast pressing himself closer and away from the bustling crowd. Seeking escape almost from it. Understandable, Fallon felt the same herself once before, but in time she grew out of such seething dislike and allowed herself to adjust to them, ”How can robes hide someone?”

Shaking her head whilst the women discussed coin, Fallon tended to her furry companion. Stooping to his height, she let her hands rub at his sides, the gentle reassuring touch that all was well. Last thing she needed was for him to become enraged in the middle of a market place. Fingers massaged down, a low hum escaping her lips, ”Hush… Hush… all will be fine boy. Be alright Orvin. Come now… sit…”

She only listened in as the knowledge of more coin filtered into her mind. Just how much did she have? It seemed to be endless with the way she was going about getting things; something that made Fallon wince several times. More so when she was desperately trying to save. Her head turned only upwards when Zandelia addressed her once with the catch in tow, ”Yes, lovely f you although you did not have to. Drink? Of course.” Already she could feel her coin purse shrivel up and tighten, refusing to pay up for more. But, she kept to the ‘promise’ and once more offered her arm, ”Come m’lady, let us find some water hole to drown ourselves in.”

With that she gave a turnabout, her lips breaking into a curl as she escorted the woman onwards. For a moment the pace was slow as she tried to gain some bearings, her brow forming into a line as she remembered what could be the nearest establishment, ”I’m not sure where to go. Is the Pig’s foot alright for you? Or does the arm tease wish to go elsewhere with her lad?”

[Zandelia]

She couldn’t help but laugh at the hesitance with which Bitzer seemed to approach the idea of a gift, it was a strange reaction and one which hinted at some deeper issues at play perhaps. She was indeed a complex woman but Zandelia had thought that the concept of gifting would at least have not been an alien one to her. Clearly she had judged wrongly, or rather that she had judged correctly but that Bitzer thought there was something more to it perhaps. There was of course, she wanted Bitzer close and she wanted her safe.

But a kind act should at least be thanked she noted, noticing no impending deluge of thanking.

“Why would I not be serious? You have bought me back home and you have been ill treated by me. Stands to reason a soft would be in order. No other reason beyond your safety Bitzer,” she responded simply, “the fabric the robes are made out of are light but dark and help muffle movement I have noted. The cloak will help you blend in the shadows and in these streets that can be useful. There is a reason that I used them. Now we can both use them. It will keep you safe, my leader” she smiled and tilted her head in consideration.

Zandelia took the offered arm again and they began to walk towards the Pig’s Foot – the trotter Trough of the city and a place she used to be all too familiar with. She would be again no doubt, it was a useful location and she knew it to be a centre of rumour and gossip – two key tools for her trade and ones which could be turned to her advantage if manipulated correctly. She had learnt the value of misinformation these days and as such she would use it to the fullest extent. She would use every weapon she had in her possession to win Bitzer what she desired – she had agreed and the contract had been made.

“The Trotter Trough is fine, though I must say your mention of drilling is interesting. Suggests formal training to my ears. Who taught you if I might ask? I don’t doubt your skill but I’d feel more at ease if it were a big name. Can’t say I was ever taught though, not really. More just survived” she spoke aloud thoughtfully – Sunberth bred either survivors or corpses. There were few middle grounds.

“An as for this…arm tease…there is nothing more she would enjoy than to spend more time with her…lad” she tried to keep a straight face at that, it was strange that a few days ago they had been at each other’s throats and now they were…close.

Or closer at least she told herself.

The walk was a short one, the tavern being not far from the Commons all things considering and the door clattered open as they entered, walking to the bar and ordering their drinks. Zandelia didn’t decide whether she was paying or not, she had the coin to do so and more but politeness meant she left the picking up of the tab until their departure. She allowed her lad to lead her to a table, out of the way and towards a corner, and sat down slowly, placing her unused garments over the back of a free chair.

“A good place this, or I remember it so. Useful too. Used to use it for my work many years ago now. Not a thing happens in Sunberth that doesn’t flicker through the tongues here, and more. Even created a few rumours myself over the seasons, filtered here and out into the city well enough,” she sipped upon her ale and looked at Bitzer across the rim, “though my skills have improved since then”

“What do you think Bitzer, what do your astute eyes see?” she asked.

Perhaps it was also time to start fulfilling her promise of teaching Bitzer what she could, where she could.

“And why so wary of gifts if I might ask?”

[Fallon]

Fallon frowned, and then shrugged. She had no real come back for that; so with a low tone she explained herself, ”Not sure. Maybe it’s just my gut telling me to be careful and look for catches. If there is anything this city has taught me it is to be careful.”

And then the questions came, those leads for her to reveal more about herself. She could not help but smirk in amusement, so quick she was to try and wheedle her way in to understand more. In some regards it reminded her of herself; constantly finding questions and ways to find answers. Trickery, luring, searching and listening, they were part and parcel of investigating and finding ways of knowing. There was a nod in understanding, ”Survival is a cruel mistress I know well myself. She has a good way of pushing us to our limits and driving one over the edge. Of course, if you come out the other side you are stronger.”

Her eyes looked on ahead, unmoving as she dwelled upon the past. Even she remembered her own pains; and whilst they were over they still had the ability to linger there as a memory.

”That may be because it was formal training,” Fallon spoke coolly, ”And yes, they are a very big name. More often than not they also pride themselves on it, and their numbers well,” She looked upon Zandelia a glint of mischief in her eye, ”Their numbers are in the thousands. And their strength as a unit is great… with those snippets I’m sure you can work out exactly who taught me. If you put your mind to it of course.” No clue, no name, but even she had the feeling Zandelia was capable of working it out. She sighed and shook her head, ”And Laugh, I see that you want to.”

With the tavern greeting them with a chorus of noise, Fallon escorted her lady to a corner and sat down. There was only the look of musing as she took the woman in her gaze, her eyes looking her up and down, before finally down to her hands. Her fingers traced circles on the surface, some strong liquor or malted gut-rot instead of ale, ”I bet that is not the only skill that has improved.” There was a sip, her tongue savouring the bitterness that it produced before swallowing it. Lids pinched, the sucking in of the illusive sweet scent before she placed the wooden cup down.

”Wariness is the wrong word,” Fallon stated, her eyes drifted out across the tavern, ”More… unused to. It’s a non-familiar thing, thus I feel the compulsion to question it. Reasoning, truth, of what I may have to do in return. Healthy paranoia if you will. As for seeing…” there was a hum, ”I see people. Mercenaries around a table, a hooked nose man crying into his drink, a young flirt trying her best with a disinterested man…” blinking she turned her eyes to Zandelia. Gloved hands all the while moved up to her lips, the leather tips meeting her teeth before she pulled them off. Placing the gloves down on the table she felt the Lykata almost prickle in anticipation whilst the palm of her hands drifted over the surface, ”Or did you want a different sort of see?”

Ears twitched, and her head turned back across the tavern. The rattle of dice, the dipping of whispers and hushed voices. There was a pause, her eyes scanning and looking out across, then low to what was going on at the table surface. Her head inclined to one side, her chin rising before she turned her head back to the woman, ”Sorry, I… thought I saw something. Never mind. You were saying?”

[Zandelia]

“Perhaps, I can understand the hesitance but you should be wary of falling into the trap of paranoia. One of us is enough believe me. Leave the worrying about shadows to me, I just wanted to be nice after our…disagreement” she shrugged and sipped her ale sparingly, it was particularly watered down this day - Merv was clearly running low on stocks. She tucked that piece of information away too, he might need help and it was a way of slipping in to his good graces.

“I cannot but agree on the survival front Bitzer, stronger but damaged. Always a good combination. I’ve shared my own horrors over the years. Most of them in this damned city actually. A few elsewhere” she decide not to push the matter further.

She had discerned enough of Bitzer already this day, had pushed her in ways she had not really set out to do but nevertheless had provided some pieces of the puzzle. She had learnt of her hypocrisy regarding touch, the personal walls she held around her and the ways in which they could – temporarily perhaps – breach them. For a time at least. She had learnt of her plans upon the seas, had even learnt some of her hopes. It was a steady game really, each time they met she tried for another small piece of the woman and over time hoped to understand the whole. She had but one more bit to fiddle with and work out today.

“Thousands you say? Well known then I would assume…” she drummed her fingers upon the table as she mulled it over, “unit…strength…formal…well that suggests and army of sorts. Or a mercenary unit at least. Few of those around. Thousands though…no…you were in the Knights?” she asked with surprise, “but I thought they never let anyone ever leave! How did you get out?”

So she is deadly then, or at least better than your common thug. Good, means I have someone at my back whom won’t buckle. The Knights are no joke after all, even if their remit doesn’t extend here she told herself privately.

“Well…learn something new as they say. But yes, not the only skill,” she sipped her ale again and winced as she tasted it, “usually one needs to use several abilities to advance their cause. I merely wanted to know what you saw when you entered here Bitzer, you asked me to teach you how I think after all” she reasoned simply. She looked around at what Bitzer had pointed out.

What do I see? she asked herself.

“I see one escape route that is hardly the clearest so would advise caution in your interactions,” she began simply, “though at least there are no chains blocking the path to the door today. The beer is watered down and weaker than usual to the point you can taste it, this tells me Merv’s stock may be running low. Or that he can’t afford more, or wants to make more money for some reason of late. He mentioned to me previously he has some debtors he wants running down so perhaps he is truly short of gold” she tilted her head as she ran a finger around the rim of her cup.

“The people you describe are correct but their motives might not be. That girl there could be a flirt or she could be a picker looking for a purse from a drunkard easily manipulated. She could be useful to us if so and would therefore watch her closer. The man crying into his drink…why? Has he lost someone or something? Could we help and in so doing gain an ally?”

“And you missed out the most important person of the establishment, the one who fades into the background always but is there still – Merv himself. He could be good for us if we managed to acquire his services. He listens, knows and doesn’t talk unless he thinks you’re worth it or have coin”

“I also see a rumour mill, one which we could manipulate to our advantage. The drunks always like a good tale to spread to make themselves feel bigger, more in the know. The mercenaries always like a challenge and so like to brag and spread tales themselves to garner a name. How eagerly do you think any of them would love to lay claim to having killed the Hound of we spread it around he was dead? How fast would that rumour spread to another tavern, then to the city and thus mask our movements with unfounded self-assurance on other’s part?” she finished, drinking from her watered ale again.

“Does your…talent…work that way? I mean, can you just do a whole tavern like that?” she asked hesitantly, “the last time you…I mean I had to…” the words trailed off, still regretting threatening Bitzer with her blade.

“What did you think you saw?” she asked, curiosity rising within her.

[Fallon]

It was surprise that Fallon looked upon, but her face was serious and unmoving. Even as the woman seemed to stumble over the realisation of the potential here. Part of her wished to confirm it, to explain herself and the reasoning behind it all. On the other side she held herself back, the less who knew the better after all. Even if that included Zandelia herself. She could not allow the risks of another knowing – she doubted the locals would appreciate such an outsider in their midsts.

”I was a squire with them, that is correct,” Fallon held the stare, her voice clean cut and crisp, ”Praise be to Yahal and all that related stuff. I joined and trained under them, I followed their principles and beliefs, I allowed myself to become a weapon for them, but…” she shook her head at that point, ”It was not meant to be. Let us leave it there. Please.”

Listening to the woman she let her eyes drift around to the targets in questions, the flirting girl, the crying man, the mercenaries. And then of course the additional things that she missed. In honesty Fallon was not exactly sure what was required when Zandelia made her request, or what exactly she had to look out for. It was relatively new to her after all, but being able to sit and listen to the hum of the city was something she had to learn. Speaking up Fallon addressed the situation;

”You asked me what did I see, not the depth of it or the thought behind it,” She breathed, ”Not the possible reason behind it, intent or where it could lead to.” She took a sip from her cup, allowing the strong flavour to roll down her throat, ”More reason not to like Sunberth ale then if it’s watered down. I’ll stick to my spirits thank you very much.”

Swirling the drink around Fallon kept her eyes on the surroundings. Was it really that easy to pick up on the intent of a person? Could only simple glances and a sharp mind pick up on such things? She released a frown, a hum of noise as she tried to work things out in her own. Not quickly enough, for annoyingly Zandelia was one step ahead at spelling out all that could be seen. She twitched, her finger tip drawing out circles again a low sigh to the questioning of the woman, ”The mercenaries? Depends on how quickly the stream flows into the river. It’s something I can’t put a value on. Or don’t know how to yet.”

She watched the look of disgust flicker over the watery ale for a moment, and then turned her gaze properly up. The woman had asked something, and the gnosis pulsed in response. Leaning back in her chair, Fallon looked down upon her hands. What was it she saw?

”I could… sort of,” she tried to think of how to describe it simply and cleanly, ”Everything has information, and that information is left as contributions on objects. For example-“ she picked up her gloves at that point, ”-These have had information and contributions left on them by me. Which, due to this,” she tapped the mark, ”I can read them.” Taking a swig of her drink she posed the question to the woman, ”You with me so far?”

Regardless, Fallon quickly continued, ”So, I can only invoke random images or associations. Races, names, species if I’m lucky. You get the idea, basic stuff. I could even pick up feelings. But on the other side it’s only a few impressions at most. Remember however, that’s only for one object.” At that point the hand flicked between them, ”Ignoring our physical selves, how much have we touched just here between us? How much have we handled? Keep the basic stuff in perspective then amplify it.” Placing the gloves down Fallon gave a nod, ”Last time I was tired, and under mental strain and stress. It took a lot out of me. But to do it now when I’m alert? It’s more than possible for me to. Easily. Of course, I might freak if I read something unpleasant.”

And then finally she came to the last question. The finger tips tapped the surface, her mind focusing on tuning out the world the best she could. Lips twitched, her eyes narrowed. There it was again, that ring of something. That gnawing sense that consumed, ”It wasn’t saw it was felt. It was… fear?”

[Zandelia]

“You asked me to tell you how I worked, or rather how to go about learning the city the way I do,” she shrugged at the returned response, she had perhaps approached it wrongly but she didn’t really think of things that way, “I’m sorry if I asked wrongly of you, it’s just I don’t really…separate them…I suppose. I just see. That’s how I work” she tilted her head and tried to enjoy the ale.

“Very well, I won’t push further. I must say though that you seem distracted. I remember a Bitzer who relished trying to get information from me but today you seem a bit…standoffish? I won’t ask about it any further” she promised, looking her in the eye and making sure she knew she had promised.

It intrigued her though, she had to admit. Bitzer had been a Squire and had left, but offered no reason for why beyond a mystery. Zandelia’s first guess would be some sort of event, some occurrence perhaps. Someone had mistreated her, or the Knights just weren’t as glorious as they seemed from the outside. She did not know and in truth she did not care right then, Bitzer would tell her in time if she chose to. For now she was content with the flickers of facts she obtained here and there. It almost seemed unfair, to learn so much and offer nothing in return - almost.

Still…trade is often a basis for trust… she mulled the idea over.

“Yes, keep your spirits and also keep the gift – cloak and more. You have told me something of yourself this day so it seems only fair that you get the same from me. Ask away and I will answer. Can’t promise you’ll like the answer though” she drank deeply from her cup then, the taste of the shop keeper finally washing away in its watery contents.

“As to the fear, does that mean someone is afraid of us? Or perhaps someone else? Is it a person here or just the wood you’re touching. You said objects so perhaps it is an old fear? Or is it the case that the strong the impression the shorter space of time since it was generated?” she asked, this ability intrigued her no end.

She considered Bitzer’s words and found them to be fear inducing as well as desirable. The way she put it, the touching of everyday objects and leaving an imprint of one’s self upon them to be read. It was a dangerous tool in the wrong hands and her skin crawled at the memory of how Bitzer had used it upon her cup upon the first meeting – discerning her name so easily. What else though she still did not know. It was invasively intimate in a way, to know Bitzer could learn everything she wanted about her without even asking her first. She looked at the un-gloved hand warily.

“So just simple things, nothing more? For example you couldn’t learn someone’s past from it? But you get…feelings. So you could learn those and extrapolate,” she stated matter-of-factly, “does that mean you know more than my name?” she asked, looking Bitzer in the eye and wondering if there were some other pieces of herself locked behind that deep green gaze.

But what? I was angry at the time? Thoughtful…can it imprint thoughts. Crimson Edge perhaps? But that wouldn’t do her any good. Garret though…did I think of him? Feel about him or my father? I can’t recall she flashed through the possibilities in her mind quickly, trying to quell any rising panic.

Bitzer was a clever woman after all and if she could get a hold of facts she would be dogged and she would find out everything eventually. Her one edge at the moment was that she was interesting and useful to Bitzer. How useful would she be if the other woman managed to absorb every bit of knowledge she had? And what then?

“So you could shake someone’s hand, perhaps in a business transaction, and learn all about them?”

[Fallon]

”Today you have put me in an awkward situation,” she took a sip, ”I take a while to recover when things like that occur.” She gave a shrug, ”If I was you I would use that to an advantage as much as possible. But that is just me.” There was a clunk as the cup was put down, her bare hand tracing teasingly over the tip as she listened to the next offer – only to meet it with a shaking of the head.

”I… do not want to play that game,” she looked Zandelia in the eye at that point, ”I find that if you wish to share yourself then it is best to when you feel most comfortable.” Fallon gave a point, ”And, if you can find yourself to trust me, then I will do the same. After all, it is much more satisfying to learn that way, don’t you think?” Her hand at that point snaked round to the woman’s cup and left the hovering inclination there upon her words, ”Besides, if I wanted to learn that badly… Well, I would have done already.”

Fingers withdrew, her gaze darkening. Lips curled into a wicked grin, that flicker of simply knowing existing there, before it was reined back and wrapped up. But the gaze remained, sharp, analysing and studying – more so than an average scholar or curiosity seeker. Taking up the glove she returned it to the hand, a slow gentle movement as she tugged it back on, her fingers wriggling in and flexing in the leather. Safe, secure and out of sight, just as she liked it.

”One question at a time, I cannot answer all at once,” there was a chuckle to Zandelia’s flurry of questions. So inquisitive, so curious; it was refreshing to see such a like mind and kindred spirit in such ideals, ”The impressions apply to who has touched them, so if person A has not touched the object then no impressions from them would be passed on. Does that make sense? So, on a more practical aspect, if you were to say… take my cup and then pass it back to me, I could then take the impressions you had left. If you don’t touch it however, then no connection can be made.”

”As for the fear itself? I don’t know about that,” Fallon sighed, ”It could be old fear, new fear. All I can muster is that someone, at some point touched this surface-“ her knuckle rapped against the wood, ”-And was consumed by the emotion. Thus left it as an imprint. Of course, the older and more used an object the more contributions that are left. Which is why picking out your name was easier, the cups that time were very new.”

Rubbing at her throat, she sucked in the air and coughed. All this talking was beginning to make her parched, and so draining the rest of her glass she continued, ”History? Well sort of. I will let you determine that answer. You pick up a clay cup; you suck in the air and focus yourself upon it. You feel your head swim, you feel the images and feelings race on past like rushing water. You feel the care, the compassion that went into it, the rumblings of a name upon the tip of your tongue and the long drawn out hum of a potter’s wheel going round… So, you tell me, is it history? Is that the past?”

She let the information process, the weight of the words hover there in the mind of the woman. But the gaze did not waver; instead the chin simply lifted and stated her dead on. Orvin’s head looked up at that point, his head peaking up over the edge of the table as he stared at both the women. Snorting, her looked at both of them before nudging Zandelia for attention.

Fallon leaned across the table, their noses nearly touching with the closeness. The voice broke down, a husky whisper as she breathed, ”It clicks, it clunks. It chinks and hums. So curious you are, but you keep on looking back. You regret, you worry. But you rock, grow and form. So hard yet soft… And yet you take the plunge.” She held it, unblinking and unmoving, ”So many questions, but far too scared to ask. For shame. You hold yourself back a lot.” Gently Fallon pulled away, easing herself back down into her seat. From there she played with her empty cup, her eyes unlifting from Zandelia. She wondered for a moment if she had scared the woman at all.

”Shake someone’s hand? No,” Fallon was firm with her tone, ”It does not expand onto living things. Only on objects, parts of the living and dead things. Anything else you wish to know?”

[Zandelia]

Zandelia’s cheeks flushed red slightly at the mention of being out into a difficult position, she had pushed a little too far perhaps. It had been for a good cause for the most part so she didn’t really feel guilt so much as a slight discomfort that she had given Bitzer a harder time than had been needed. The words about taking advantage rang truly, it almost seemed like an offer but she had gained more than she had expected already and was not sure she wanted another argument when they had had a rather nice day together – or part of it at least.

Still, she it teasing with me. Toying. It’s like she’s figuring me out as I figure her out she mused to herself as her eye widened at the slithered hand almost touching her cup, the words and then the retracting of the fingers from that most precious of knowledge – herself.

She had little time to recover though as Bitzer launched into an explanation of her abilities, proving that some of her fears were truth and others were paranoia – the shaking of her hand for example. Yet that was not saying much, on ring off of a finger and knowledge of the person would belong to Bitzer. It was, however, good to learn and reiterate the knowledge that the woman could use her talent when she was alert without being incapacitated – she could use that for her own benefit. Still, there was the teetering upon the precipice still – it was only a matter of time until the gift were used upon Zandelia. Trust was one thing but they spent so much time together. How long until she accidentally touched her clothing, or her weapons?

A myriad of possibilities for her to learn of me, though she says she enjoys it more this way. Why? Fun suggests enjoyment, she enjoys my company or she enjoys the event? Which one? Or both? she asked herself.

“Look, I-“ she started by suddenly Bitzer was right next to her face, close enough to kiss and certainly well into her personal space on a sudden surge of initiative.

The words were low and husky, the gaze pinning her own as she laid out what she saw of Zandelia, easily as if she had memorized them from days of writing upon parchment. She had no answer to them, they were true for the most part though she didn’t understand about the holding back and afraid to ask questions – she had asked questions all the time. Unless she meant different types of questioning but that merely confused matters before. She felt the hot breath upon her cheeks and could only truly think about how this woman was as mysterious as she tried to be and without even trying. She wanted to learn everything of this mystery, so eagerly but no…she pushed the desire back and the moment passed. Zandelia breathed again and finished her mug of ale with slightly shaking hand.

She’s bloody mental is what she is. Shies away from me and then rams her face into mine with a monologue of what…she…knows….no it can’t be that simple. But then all of the touching, the gestures, the looks…no. No I don’t think so. Just wishful thinking she told herself, for some reason wishing her suspicions were correct.

“I don’t have more questions for you Bitzer,” she managed to force between her lips eventually, “some things for you but no questions. I suppose I don’t want to play this game either. I’m too old for games I think. Or too tired right now. But,” and then she took Bitzer’s cup at the unspoken challenge and closed her eye and she kissed the rim firmly – she tried to imprint upon the cup what she wanted, if that were at all possible. She was not sure it was but she thought of the other woman as she went about the ritual and concentrated very firmly upon imprinting the feelings there.

Once done she placed it down between them invitingly and without looking at Bitzer.

“You don’t like a game of questions well then use your ability. I trust you enough not to take advantage but I learn from you and I’m too dishonest to tell you anything in simple words. I will not lie about what I am to my partner in crime” she sighed, “the cloaks will be ready by the look of the light. Do what you will with the cup but remember, I left it there and in that fashion for a reason”

With that she glanced briefly at Bitzer and made for the door and the stall, grabbing the cloaks before returning to the Pig’s Foot at a slow walk and leaning against the outside wall for a while until Bitzer exited – she would become concerned after a while at her absence she knew. The one question that throbbed within was whether she did the right thing.

[Fallon]

There was no time for recovery; that much was apparent. She had pushed the boundaries; she had left a blush upon her cheeks and evaded her personal space. And whilst it was methods she would rather not use, it did help in instilling what she was capable of. And whilst she sat there, fingers drumming upon the table she watched Zandelia squirm. But even then, that worried look continued to turn beneath her skin, that mental fight to get back on track and alert.

Hands shook, nerves consuming them as she finished the last of her drink. And all the while Fallon continued to watch. Her gaze did not lift, her eyes did not flicker from the target before her. They simply stared and studied. She had lured the woman in now, she was certain of it. In doing so she had made a curious ally who shared the same desires as her, that wanting to understand, the desire to explore and the hunger for information. The exact thoughts however were presently beyond her – she was not a mind reader after all.

Her head cocked to one side when Zandelia finally summoned the words to speak. Forced sounds, the stumble of uncertainty as they sounded out into vowels. In honesty, Fallon could not help but feel slightly disappointed with the lack of questions, they stimulated her to think and explain, to educate and teach. The ‘things’ however picked her interest. Her mind first flittered to the thought of the cloaks, but as Zandelia took the cup and placed her lips upon it Fallon could not help but tense.

The mind blinked, stuttering and stalling as the act continued with the cup being placed down a firm clunk. The challenge was clear, set out before her. The table was a stage, the eyes refusing to meet her own and increase her understanding. And whilst the words of a recovered woman sunk into her mind, she could not help but stare judgingly at the cup. Lips pursed into a line, her brow shortly following. There was no time for questions, Zandelia had already made her escape – leaving her stranded to her own devices all the while. Finger playing with the rim she considered it for a moment, her lips repeating the words, ”For a reason… a reason?”

If there was anything Fallon knew it was that everything had a reason. Though the it was the trigger of it all that was the questionable factor. Blinking she studied the cup, her head shaking as she thought the possibilities. So many people had handled it, what made her think that she would be able to pick something from her in particular? What was so important that she could not speak it?

Pulling off the glove she took up the cup and focused, her eyes staring deeply down upon it. She sucked in the air, then exhaled, the noises in the background fading out and the low hum of nothing meeting her. She let her mind dip deeper. The throb off emotions ebbed off, the sting of those who had handled the cup over the years. It rushed past her, an expanse of feelings and a chasm that emptied itself before her. But, there was one thing that was noticeable among it all.

It was a deep, throbbing sadness. The sort that belonged to a strained heart, a moment of tensing as it was forced to stand against the world alone. It was almost in reaction that Fallon pressed her own palm against her chest, her brow easing off as she sighed. So dominant it was; a cry for companionship and one that received no answer. Placing it down she forced herself to stand. Perhaps the pair of them were more similar than she first realised, a blessing and both a curse. Inclining her head to Orvin she paid the tab – as she promised she would – gathered herself and made the slow pace to the world outside.

She gave a flinch when she saw Zandelia, surprised to see the woman there waiting. Blinking she stepped out the door way and paused. What should she say? Should she comment or should she remain silent? Her lids winced, the brow meeting into a line.

”Zandelia,” she breathed, ”I just…” Already she was stumbling, the words failing. Offer comfort? Reassurance? ”You’re lonely aren’t you?” She reeled back slightly at that point, biting her tongue and remembering some social tact, ”Sorry, that came out wrong. What I mean is…” Fallon gave a shrug, ”If you ever want to, do something, socialise, I don’t know.” Now she was definitely making a fool of herself.

Sucking in the air she held a hand forward as if to shake, her lips breaking into a sheepish curl. ”You don’t have to be alone any more, okay? If you need help, ask. You don’t have to face this world alone anymore.”