[Seaside Market] You Scratch My Back (Amon)

[Mirian Jade]

9th of fall, 514 a.v around midday Mirian was at the Seaside Market. It wasn’t a stunningly unusual occurrence for her, though; she liked walking, she liked looking at merchant stalls, she especially liked the sound of the sea and the Market was a place where she could enjoy all three. Her pace was unhurried, but it wasn’t slow, per se; the people around her had places to be and things to do, and she knew better than to make herself an obstruction that someone might decide needed to be removed in a less than pleasant manner. Today, though… today was different. There was a distinct lack of the usual traffic around the market; most of the stalls were empty and unmanned, and what people did browse through were cautious and quick to go about their business. Everyone was uneasy about what had happened the day before, and Mirian herself would have preferred to stay home today if she hadn’t been so desperate for coin. As it was, she had found herself in her usual daytime hunting grounds, looking to find anything she could as quickly as possible. She allowed herself to eye the stalls and wares as she passed, picking out pretty things or things that looked somewhat valuable. Her gaze would also linger on the food stalls when she passed them, even though she knew that wishing after them would be pointless; she only had one pocket on her pants, and that was barely large enough to hold an apple––the other had been slit at the bottom so she could retrieve the knife strapped to her thigh if she had cause to, which left her carrying capacity rather limited. Stealing her food directly would be time wasted that could be spent filching things that were altogether more valuable, and when she lived hand-to-mouth, day-to-day, she couldn’t afford to waste time. It was a trinket stall that she ended up stopping at, one filled to the brim with jewelry and baubles and what looked like a bracer. “See somethin’ ya like, dearie?” said the merchant with no small amount of cautious bite to his words. Mirian looked up and flashed a playful smile. “Don’t tell me you expect me to steal?” she purred. Her blouse was low-cut and a bit big on her, and so she was able to tug at the hem relatively inconspicuously to pull the collar farther down her cleavage. “Don’t look at me like that, darling,” she continued. “I know that tone. You think I’m thief, don’t you?” He snorted, eyes flicking to her chest but then back to her face. “Ain’t your business what I think’a ya. You gonna buy somethin’ or what?” “But what if I want it to be my business what you think of me?” she asked, picking up the odd bracer. “What’s this?”

[Amon Torque]

The pocket was rather heavy on this particular trip to the market, sagging and bulging with mizas. It would be a foolish call to thieves in the open air sea of stalls, but Amon was confident he would have no trouble with even the stickiest hands that happened to find themselves in his pocket. He was enjoying the freedom of not watching his pocket with every ounce of concentration he could muster was a relief, an anvil taken off his shoulders. His form was relaxed, shoulders slumped slightly in a loose fashion. His nose took in the aroma of salty fresh air, cool and crisp to the taste of his senses, taking in everything at once. As he passed stalls, he would run his hands across the products, only stopping to yank out the occasional painful splinter. But a splinter did not deter him from his rather trance like state of knowing, and understanding. It was nearly euphoric, he seemed to have primal, raw, instincts, sharpened and keen. But this trip to the market was no joyride, he had come with a purpose, and an important one at that. Beeswax. Where have you been hiding? His mind flew back to a rumor he had heard from Calvin, there was wax being sold for cheap, and Amon wanted in on the deal. His vision seemed to focus in on a stall, empty, as usual, with a small wood sign hanging and swaying with the sea breeze. A small green leaf was painted onto it, a single black word painted over the light green leaf, showing a stark contrast, the sign read Herbs. Herbs were a wide variety of subjects, and for a stall selling only herbs, it would be likely to find other herbalist tools, maybe even the wax he craved for his balms. His eyes vigilantly soared through the baskets and jars, only stopping on opaque yellow substance, filling the brim of several jars. Amon eyed them closely, examining for anything inconsistency in the wax, finding none. He moved his finger over the jar, then reached into it, making a little scoop. It was thick, but spreadable, and he ground it between his fingers, watching it coat the tips. "Alright. The product speaks for itself, now how much?" Amon's words came out slowly and smoothly, working in persuasion without saying anything persuading. The shopkeeper shrugged, business as slow as it was, he did not expect many customers later in the day, "Meh, take a jar or two for a silver. Three or four for two. Were leaving tomorrow anyway, no room on the boat." Amon was slightly shocked, he had never bought beeswax, but it seemed cheap. Then again, he did not really think about how it was not exactly a hot item on the market. Easy enough. Lets see if we can lower that a bit. "As slow as thing 'ave been going today, doubt you will get someone with the same interests as me." The shopkeeper simply shrugged again, mumbling something about a silver miza for the four jars of wax. Amon obliged happily, reaching into his pouch and putting it down on the counter. The only other coins were bronze, but the pouch would look full to anyone who did not see the contents. He grabbed the jars, the shopkeeper handing him a basket with to hold them in. Amon nodded in thanks, turning and walking away, coin pouch barely visible and arms full, he was an easy target, or so it seemed.

[Mirian Jade]

The merchant, it seemed, would be having none of her flirting. “‘At’s a cuff,” he said. “Goes on yer arm. Heard tell it’s solid silver.” Mirian sincerely doubted that, but she adopted an interested air all the same. “Is it?” she gasped theatrically, leaning closer to the item so he wouldn’t think she was stealing it. As she did so, her other hand busied itself with the items on the lower shelves, flickering over whatever they could find that was small enough to slip into her pocket. “Twenty gold takes it home,” the merchant said, finally lightening his tone. “Twenty gold!” Mirian exclaimed. “You expect me to believe that? Look at this! This thing is hardly worth five!” “You don’t like it, dearie, you can buy somethin’ else.” Mirian leveled a hard look at the merchant. “Four gold, and maybe I’ll consider it.” The merchant leaned forward, smiling coldly and plucking the bracer from her grasp. “Well then, dearie, I think you should find somewhere else to spend your coin.” “I think I probably should,” Mirian scoffed, turning on her heel and storming dramatically off into the street. She waited until she was certain she was out of the man’s sight to slide her hand into her good pocket and see what she’d gotten: two copper rings, what looked to be a tiny hourglass and an iron… letter opener? Or perhaps it was just a very small dagger. Not a lot, to be sure, and certainly not enough to pay for a day’s food. It was a start, though. Pocketing the items again, Mirian scanned the marked for another target. Her eyes settled almost immediately on a young man carrying four jars. Peaceful-looking enough. If anything, he looked… cocky. Like he had nothing to fear from the crowd around him, even with a… bulging coinpurse. That caught her attention immediately. Mirian took out one of her pilfered copper rings and began to look down very determinedly at it, altering her course towards the man with the jars. She let her hair draw a curtain across her face, and through it she could see his shadow enough to know where to go; to a casual observer, it would be easy to assume that she was simply very focused on the ring in her hand. She didn’t want to break his jars, she just wanted to collide with him.

[Amon Torque]

His feet hit the ground in a irregular tempo, for he was focused on avoiding tripping over holes in the old wood, rotting from the constant moisture and coated with crunchy barnacles. Amon's mind had wandered from topic to topic, mind watering with ideas for balms and the profit he could make from each. The tin outside of the four jars clanged with each step, knocking against each other with a ping. It was melodic in nature, his steps along with the jars, moving to the background of ocean waves splashing onto the shore. It was funny, Amon did not notice, but most of the things he did were to the beat of something, be it the pounding of a hammer or ocean waves. He glanced behind him, taking in the sapphire sea, white foam at the tip of each wave, capping the waves like a hat to a person. The water shimmered in the sun, reflecting the bright rays back up into the sky, which matched the ocean. Amon theorized that clouds were the oceans sea foam, and if you touched one of the fluffy clouds, it may pop like the bubbles that made up the wave's hats. There was a girl, who Amon glanced over with more vigilance than he usually had equipped, possibly simply because of her uncanny sense of beauty. She was looking down at her hand closely, inspecting gleaming brown rings on her smooth fingers, as if the rings were locked around in a eternal hug and she was watching to see if they would loosen there grip. His eyes scanned up and down her body, noting the curves and feminine nature of her movements. He decided it would be rather strange for her to catch him staring, so he simply turned, playing the image through his head and returning to the game of trying not to slip a foot into a hole, which would result in a sprain and looking like a fool, even though Amon managed that on his own. He was forced to slow down greatly to continue the everlasting fight for staying upright, giving anyone an opportunity to catch up to him.

[Mirian Jade]

If she hadn’t already been paying such close attention to him, she would have missed the prickle of his eyes on her. She panicked for a moment, but forced her eyes to remain locked onto the rings. He couldn’t know. Not so quickly. Could he? But he was altering course now, slowing––dammit. There was no more time for subtlety now, she had to make her move now or never. Throwing caution into the wind, Mirian spotted a hold in the wood before her and purposefully stuck her foot in it, stalling her own motion and sending herself tumbling forward––straight into the man she had been pursuing. “Shyke!” she cursed loudly, followed a second later by a little shriek as she brought her face up to look at him fully––although such an act wasn’t really useful when she was literally falling into him.

[Amon Torque]

He heard her before he saw her, he felt the wind moving behind him and a loud creak in the wood signaled his attention. Then he felt her slam into him, the metal jars flinging from his arms, onto the ground, scattered about across the dock. They were dented, but luckily unharmed otherwise, he turned to the perpetrator only to find himself staring down at the same woman he had been admiring earlier, only this time, she was not examining her rings, but instead was looking right back into his golden brown eyes, which were doing what they always did in bright sunlight, reflected it, creating the illusion of glowing. He did not even notice his coin bag had been knocked from his pocket and was laying nearby, instead taking interest in the girl. His face became concerned, having been unaware of her intentions. "Are you all right?" He asked, concern coating his voice. He turned his attention to her ankle to make sure it had not twisted. He put a small comforting smile on his face, kneeling down next to her and looking over her. A small trail of crimson came from her knee, which of course he could fix without much effort. "Mind if I clean up that knee?" He asked, reaching under his coat and taking out a small vial attached to a thin chain that encircled his neck loosely. He removed it from his neck, uncorking the small gleaming pendant vial and taking out the sharp blade of his kukri from its sheath, hidden under his shirt. He cut a bit of the sleeve for a rag, still having not received an answer on wether she wanted his help or not.

[Mirian Jade]

She hit him more forcefully than she’d intended, sending his cargo to the ground and her along with it. She hissed as she felt her knee hit the planks below, followed by the telltale numbness of broken skin. Her face flushed in embarrassment, and that, for her tumble, was not acting. She found herself peering back up at him, and she did her best to pull on an apologetic face. “Oh gods, I’m so sorry!” she exclaimed, struggling to find her feet––a task made difficult by the fact that she couldn’t feel one of her legs, but she seemed to be spared the need as he was leaning down, bringing himself to her level and making no move towards his fallen jars. His attention lapsed to her knee, allowing her to quickly scan what exactly had happened; the jars didn’t seem to be broken, and she raggedness of the path had kept them from rolling more than a few feet away. But what interested her most, though, now lay beyond the reach of either of them, still bulging with what looked to be coin. She didn’t dare look for more than a heartbeat, however, and returned her eyes to the face of her target as he spoke again. “My knee?” she said intelligently, blinking at him. “You want… to fix my knee?” She looked down at where the blood had begun to run down her shin, by which time he had already taken a vial from around his neck and was drawing a massive knife that immediately alarmed her. Drawing back, she eyed him warily. What was he doing? People didn’t help each other in Sunberth, and they especially didn’t help people that had just run into them and caused them to drop what they were carrying. “What is that?” she asked suspiciously, dropping her intended blushing routine entirely. She didn’t know if this man meant her harm, but with that large knife in his hand she didn’t want to risk bolting and startling him if he somehow did mean her harm. She was prone, after all, and he was not, which placed him at a huge advantage.

[Amon Torque]

"This, my rather clumsy friend, is a infusion I made earlier this month," he said, laughing slightly at her attention to his knife, "I am an herbalist, it is in my nature to help, no matter how small the injury." He put the kukri back into it's sheathe after cutting a small bit of rag from his shirt, seeing as she looked at it like a dear stuck looking into headlights. "And with someone as beautiful as yourself, that is all you need to worry about. I won't give you any trouble." Minding the fact he did not know her, he kept on his toes in a sort of spring position, which was awkward feeling but neccesary. Amon double checked her ankle, for a sprain could be a serious issue as far as her ability to work would be influenced. He looked back up at her, attempting to make contact with her eyes, as he usually did when speaking. "Mind stretching out your leg real quick? I need to wipe the blood off before I can apply the infu-"he stopped, knowing she must have no idea what he was talking about, "before I can apply the blood clotter. It will stop the bleeding." His face was relaxed and kind, stuck in a small perpetual smile that showed no signs of vanishing.

[Mirian Jade]

“This, my rather clumsy friend, is an infusion made earlier this month.” Mirian didn’t know what an infusion was, but a small flicker of dislike appeared at his use of the term ‘my clumsy friend.’ At least he had put away that knife. “I am an herbalist, it is in my nature to help, no matter how small the injury. And with someone as beautiful as yourself, that is all you need to worry about. I won’t give you any trouble.” The flicker was growing brighter. Still, Mirian did her best to pull on a sheepish look. “I… I don’t deserve that. I ran into you, made you drop your things.” Despite her words, she made no move to actually stop what he was doing, and when he asked her to she stretched out her leg she did so obediently, despite another flicker of irritation when he stopped halfway through ‘infusion’ and changed it to ‘blood clotter.’ He had just told her that that was what was in the vial, after all.

[Amon Torque]

She was not happy at his terminology, that was for sure. It showed through her face, the corners of her mouth crinkled downward slightly when she heard something she decided made her uncomforatable. Amon's face opposed her expressions, keeping a slight grin on his face throughout the exchange, light reflecting off his eyes and revealing flecks of gold inside them. His nose flared slightly as he took in a deep breath of the salty air, wind ruffling his hair as he did so. He looked at the rigid wound, noting a few splinters on the inside of it. He winced, visibly feeling bad for the upcoming pain the woman was about to feel. He took the strip of his shirt and dabbed the blood off softly, turning the brown to a deep red that mirrored the color of her blood. His hands moved to his bag, stretching the top and reaching in, taking out a set of tweezers from the depths of his herbalist kit. He leaned in close to the small gash, gripping the tweezers tightly as he plucked out several small shards of wood, doing so as fast as possible. The wound continued to bleed steadily, and Amon dabbed the drops of warm red blood off the wound again, making sure it was clean enough to work with. He held the gleaming glass vial tightly, bringing it close to the wound and pouring a bit of the liquid into the gash. "This will tingle a bit, and then stop. Tell me when it stops, alright?" Amon glanced toward the ocean, his attention lapsing from his patient to waves smacking against the poles of the dock. He took it in with a slight smile playing on his lips, content to sit in silence until he got a answer from the woman, having only one more question. "Whats your name?" he asked, continuing to stare out over the water.