"Not as if it were to follow... but, how do you like our odds for the entertainments?"
"Staying?" Braddon quips as he passes. "Depends how desperate they are for the money."
Braddon guides himself to Snake.
"Have you seen Dayn?"
He seems to notice Lucky on Snake's shoulder.
"What about you? Have you seen Dayn?" Braddon addresses the mongoose and reaches his hand forward tentatively for the creature to sniff.
Raising an eyebrow at Gristav's words, Phillip replies with a cursory nod regardless before skirting the dance floor with Braddon to where Serpe awaits. He keeps a couple of paces between him and the rodent enrobed one, before asking "Gristav thought you'd have words for me?" pausing a moment to allow respond or reply.
"Not as if it were to follow... but, how do you like our odds for the entertainments?""Staying?" Braddon quips as he passes. "Depends how desperate they are for the money."
Braddon guides himself to Snake.
"Have you seen Dayn?"
He seems to notice Lucky on Snake's shoulder.
"What about you? Have you seen Dayn?" Braddon addresses the mongoose and reaches his hand forward tentatively for the creature to sniff.
Shaking his head, "Nope. My guess is he's still holed up in his room so Thuvalia doesn't see him," he answers, shrugging.
Raising an eyebrow at Gristav's words, Phillip replies with a cursory nod regardless before skirting the dance floor with Braddon to where Serpe awaits. He keeps a couple of paces between him and the rodent enrobed one, before asking "Gristav thought you'd have words for me?" pausing a moment to allow respond or reply.
"Nothing really. The suit was telling the fat man that we could have trouble with the couple of street rats that survived all that 'fun' we had yesterday morning. Saul mentioned adding a pair of eyes in the kitchen to watch the back door and I told him I'd do it if need be, but that's pretty much it. If the suit told him anything more than that, I don't know about it. I'd like to think that he knows nothing more than that but if he does...," he glances over at Gristav, a heavy sigh of irritation escaping him, "then we don't have to question who here likes to run his mouth."
Phillip weighs the words with a nod and a shrug "Fair enough, and I wouldn't worry too much on the leftovers from yesterday. With Kreun and Badeye dead the gang's without either a head or a strong right arm. The chattel left won't think to come after us... it's only if the one along the way decides to leave his nest that we've anything worth worrying on... and we're headed into his domain soon enough at any rate." pausing for a few moments to give leave for response or addition, before excusing himself to see to his inamorata.
"Yeah that's pretty much what I told 'em. Without someone telling them what to do, they'd have a hard time deciding to go left or right. But, you know Saul...," he shrugs.
Phil nods "I'll leave them to it, no point interrupting to say the same as you've already. Gentlemen" giving a clipped heel nod before heading to his room.
Shaking his head, "Nope. My guess is he's still holed up in his room so Thuvalia doesn't see him," he answers, shrugging.
"Thanks."
Braddon attempts to scratch the mongoose behind its ears before heading to the guest rooms in search of the diminutive Daynadrian.
"Not as if it were to follow... but, how do you like our odds for the entertainments?"
"Staying?" Braddon quips as he passes. "Depends how desperate they are for the money."
Piccolo glares after Braddon's departing back. "These are professionals, and it's insulting to suggest that they won't act in a profession manner," he huffs. "They were hired for music and dancing, and that's what they will provide."
At the bar, Lucky watches Braddon's approaching fingers warily. He fluffs up his tail in what one assumes is meant to be a threatening manner but doesn't flinch as Braddon briefly scratches the brindled fur behind his ears. The mongoose chitters softly as he watches the half-elf and halfling head through the maze of furniture to the guest wing.
Phillip is first to arrive at his destination. Instead of producing a key, he knocks at his own door. A wary female voice asks, "Who's there?" from the other side.
Continuing down the long hallway to the final door on the left, Braddon also knocks but is answered only by silence.
With a gentle voice Phillip murmurs conspiratorially through the door "A creature of base desire sent to steal away your innocence" waiting to see what Ethel does.
Braddon frowns and tries the handle.
"It's Braddon," he calls out.
"It's safe," he lowers his voice. "The Harpy is outside."
"Not as if it were to follow... but, how do you like our odds for the entertainments?""Staying?" Braddon quips as he passes. "Depends how desperate they are for the money."Piccolo glares after Braddon's departing back. "These are professionals, and it's insulting to suggest that they won't act in a profession manner," he huffs. "They were hired for music and dancing, and that's what they will provide."
"I expect Braddon was being ironic. Not that he had the term in mind... But my question was whether our little wren is flapping about when she ought to be brooding. In the manner of a hen, I intend. How do you judge the performance's and performers' progress?"
With a gentle voice Phillip murmurs conspiratorially through the door "A creature of base desire sent to steal away your innocence"
"Well, you're a few days too late for that," she whispers from the other side. "Still, I suppose there's no harm in seeing what you have to offer." The door opens, and she peeks mischievously through the crack.
"One thing you must understand about talent," Piccolo explains to Gristav. "They aren't wizards, drudging over spellbooks; they're sorcerers whose magic is fueled from within. They have to be petted, indulged, given their freedom, if you expect to get your money's worth out of their performance. Oh! Here! Miss Barabbio!" He spies a lull in the action and quickly interposes himself physically, making himself an obstacle to the practice continuing. "I'm afraid we must let the dancers leave now if they're to return to Lubbertown before dark."
--------------------------------
Braddon frowns and tries the handle.
"It's Braddon," he calls out.
"It's safe," he lowers his voice. "The Harpy is outside."
The door is locked, and there is no answer, nor, indeed, any sound, from within.
Phillip offers a warm smile to offset the stale odour of the ale and comestibles consumed at the arena. As her eyes alight on his person he pats at his pockets as though searching for some kind of present before coming up empty. He winks and then brings his clasped hands to his mouth, whispering into his palms before locking them shut around the exhaled breath. Moving in close to the sliver of door that Ethel had opened he waxes "Alas I seem to have come near empty handed and can offer only sweet words and captured whispers..."
"HEY PHIL!"
Braddon stops while walking back.
"Dayn's not hiding in his room. Did he say he was going somewhere? Could he still be at the Publican? That was ages ago."
Blinking and leaning back from the quiet words to stare Braddon's way, hands still yet clasped Phillip shrugs "Haven't seen him since we left the whore mistress' temple."
"Alas I seem to have come near empty handed and can offer only sweet words and captured whispers..."
"Hm, is that all?" Ethel harrumphs archly. "I have berries and cream." Smiling, she opens the door wide enough to admit him. "Who are you looking for?" she inquires of both him and the approaching Braddon.
"Oh! Here! Miss Barabbio!" He spies a lull in the action and quickly interposes himself physically, making himself an obstacle to the practice continuing. "I'm afraid we must let the dancers leave now if they're to return to Lubbertown before dark."
Thuvalia accedes with tolerable grace, and the dancers gratefully gather their street shoes and belongings before she can change her mind.
"Oh! Here! Miss Barabbio!" He spies a lull in the action and quickly interposes himself physically, making himself an obstacle to the practice continuing. "I'm afraid we must let the dancers leave now if they're to return to Lubbertown before dark."Thuvalia accedes with tolerable grace, and the dancers gratefully gather their street shoes and belongings before she can change her mind.
"Maestra Barrabio- May I assume, then that I am spared, from the dancing? (Or the dancing, more likely, spared from me!?)", Gristav asks, then jokes at himself.
Allowing her space to reply, or to huff, Gristav also tries to speak with the departing dancers, "If you're going at all towards the market, might I walk with?"
"Maestra Barrabio- May I assume, then that I am spared, from the dancing? (Or the dancing, more likely, spared from me!?)", Gristav asks, then jokes at himself.
"Given the choice between actual Varisians who are actual dancers and a half-elven courier," she shrugs, "I think it is clear which will give the public a better performance."
Gristav also tries to speak with the departing dancers, "If you're going at all towards the market, might I walk with?"
The Varisians glance at one another and shrug. "We are headed up the river to Lubbertown," one answers. "If that is in the direction of your 'market,' we have not reserved the road exclusively." They seem to have little if any knowledge of the geography of Riddleport proper.
As Ethel opens the door to Braddon's approach, Phillip explains "Daynadrian... he would have looked as a young elven boy."
"I haven't seen any children," Ethel replies. "But I've been mostly in here with the door closed."
"Good idea. You'll be safe there. Except from us."
Braddon grins amiably and turns back to Phillip.
"I might try back at the Publican. If he's not there I could... have a few drinks while waiting for him."
Braddon nods at his genius.
"And you guys can join me when you're... whenever you want."
Braddon winks and departs.
Phillip gives Braddon a wry smile and wave, but doesn't add any words before slipping into his room past Ethel peering around for the promised berries and cream. "So need I pay for the priviledge with the words witheld, or am I yet still high enough in your favor to be fed without lyrical waxing?"
Braddon weaves his way through the displaced chairs and tables, back toward the front doors. The hired entertainers seem on the verge of departing, Gristav is still standing on the threshold, and Snake is still seated at the bar.
"So need I pay for the priviledge with the words witheld, or am I yet still high enough in your favor to be fed without lyrical waxing?"
"Well, they'd have been better if they hadn't sat around all afternoon," Ethel points out practically, retrieving the packet of berries and pot of cream they'd purchased at the market earlier. "They were cool, but I doubt they're any lower than room temperature by now." She opens the pot, revealing some tell-tale juice-stained trails through the surface of the cream. "Well, I didn't see any reason why I shouldn't enjoy them while they were fresh," she makes excuse, as she sets the berries and cream on the table next to the oversized chair.
"How were the fights?" she asks. "Worth sitting out in the heat? And why are you looking for an elf child? I didn't know there were elves in Riddleport, let alone any children."
Snake lets out a quiet laugh at the sharp retort from the dancing queen. "She's a fiery one all right. This is one wager I'm gonna seriously regret losing." He shakes his head at his own demise. Rising from the stool, he makes his way over to Thuvalia. Taking a deep breath and forcing himself to get this over with, "If there's anything you need help with...," he pauses, internally cringing at what he's about to say, "I'll, um, help in any way I can."
Braddon makes his way out and spies Gristav.
Braddon goes over to the loquacious larrikin, looks around a little and lowers his language.
"Dayn's not in. Do you think he's still at the Publican. Shall we check."
"Maestra Barrabio- May I assume, then that I am spared, from the dancing? (Or the dancing, more likely, spared from me!?)", Gristav asks, then jokes at himself."Given the choice between actual Varisians who are actual dancers and a half-elven courier," she shrugs, "I think it is clear which will give the public a better performance."
Grinning, Gristav replies, "So it's the dancing, spared me. A mercy, really. Ah well, we'll always have the Tackhammer Quartet.", Gristav laments playfully.
Gristav also tries to speak with the departing dancers, "If you're going at all towards the market, might I walk with?"The Varisians glance at one another and shrug. "We are headed up the river to Lubbertown," one answers. "If that is in the direction of your 'market,' we have not reserved the road exclusively." They seem to have little if any knowledge of the geography of Riddleport proper.
"To the first large cross, then.", Gristav agrees. "I'll be no burden, learning more in listening. Nire azentu behar leunketa.
Braddon makes his way out and spies Gristav.
Braddon goes over to the loquacious larrikin, looks around a little and lowers his language.
"Dayn's not in. Do you think he's still at the Publican. Shall we check."
"I... wouldn't worry. And ask around, I'm prone to it. If you... left him there, for the reason I guess, then it's tomorrow before that might be complete. As a guess. I'd let him be there. Come, walk with me. with us." Gristav's staff end sweeps a general circle. "And we'll shop a dinner, after, and you can tell me not to worry about Larur..."
"Daynadrian was a kind elf who saw fit to try and help some of Shorafa's children... and was cursed to appear as a youth again. He took it hard... Braddon and Serpe have been tending to his ego and welfare." pursing his lips nervously before following "He's also the reason why I might be taking to the water for a turn after Varisian night tomorrow... the key to his restoration is at Roderic's Cove, and there'll likely be dark deeds and bloodied hands before it's settled."
"If there's anything you need help with...," he pauses, internally cringing at what he's about to say, "I'll, um, help in any way I can."
Thuvalia fixes Snake with a suspicious glare. "What do you mean, 'help?' What sort of help do you believe I need?" she asks challengingly.
"I... wouldn't worry. And ask around, I'm prone to it. If you... left him there, for the reason I guess, then it's tomorrow before that might be complete. As a guess. I'd let him be there. Come, walk with me. with us." Gristav's staff end sweeps a general circle. "And we'll shop a dinner, after, and you can tell me not to worry about Larur..."
Braddon looks about and smirks at Snake.
To Gristav he nods."Sure. I won't worry about Dayn if you don't worry about Larur. I could use some real food soon after this afternoon."
Braddon follow Gristav away from the Gold Goblin.
Taking a deep breath, a part of him thinks he'd be better off in the same room with Marzo and twenty of his goons right about now. "I simply mean if you need help with something, And I hope you don't whatever that something might be, just ask. Or don't; I don't care. I'm here to help in any way you need me to."
Satisfaction dawns on Thuvalia's face. "Ah, you are to be my personal attendant! How thoughtful of Mr. Vankaskerkin."
Braddon and Gristav depart the Gold Goblin with Piccolo and the Varisian entertainers. The dancers have the foot-weary and shell-shocked look that comes from spending the day at Thuvalia's behest, and the grinning musicians are having a few chuckles at their expense. They speak amongst themselves in Varisian, but Braddon is able to pick up a few words here and there. The group's paths lie together to the road north of the Mystery of the Gate, but there Braddon and Gristav will have to take a right turn and go on by themselves if they are to reach Leeward Common before the merchants have packed away their wares.
Satisfaction dawns on Thuvalia's face. "Ah, you are to be my personal attendant! How thoughtful of Mr. Vankaskerkin."
Looking at her with a panged expression, "Yeah... thoughtful," he says, forcing a weak grin. Kill me. Kill me now.
Phillip knows the essence of what Ethel is feeling, but wants to see how she processes the reality of living beside Phillip. He knows full well that his honeyed tongue could glaze over concern and put her heart at rest... but in this he is not the deceiver. He tenses as his eyes scan to Ethel searchingly, looking to see how she will react.
Braddon and Gristav depart the Gold Goblin with Piccolo and the Varisian entertainers. The dancers have the foot-weary and shell-shocked look that comes from spending the day at Thuvalia's behest, and the grinning musicians are having a few chuckles at their expense.
Ware ye, Gristav cautions silently to himself, An she knew art of yours, she knew it better than yourself... But dimmer thoughts of Thuvalia fall before the chiming chuckle of the braided bard.
They speak amongst themselves in Varisian, but Braddon is able to pick up a few words here and there.
In Elvish, soft tones and serried sibilants laid lightly, Gristav converts the conversational Varisian for Braddon's following. Not in its entirety, no, but each oddity of vocabulary or culture, the timing of such judged by the wrinkle of Braddon's brow.
The group's paths lie together to the road north of the Mystery of the Gate, but there Braddon and Gristav will have to take a right turn and go on by themselves if they are to reach Leeward Common before the merchants have packed away their wares.
"Diru al ili: 'arratsalde'...", Gristav hushes to Braddon, "...kiu estas 'Bonan vesperon' "
"Espero Bihar ikusteko!", Gristav calls, lengthening his stride to his courier's habit, confident of Braddon's catching on, and keeping up. "That means", he says when Braddon's again abeam his courier's course, " Hope, tomorrow-you, to see " We can add at the end, dut, which makes it _I_ hope, or duku, _We_ hope, but it might sound a bit formal, even formulaic. And I made that mistake already today. Gristav smiled, remembering the chuckle, and chuckler.
Braddon waves as they part.
"Arratsalde eta espero bihar ikusteko duzun."
He turns back to Gristav.
"How was that? Did I just say we'd see a dozen of them?"
"Well, you said, whatever they heard. Usually, that's close to what you were trying to say. Exactness is often only an excuse for those who only wanted to mishear you, anyway. You've the sort of face that gets forgiven. Whatever we buy, we'll call it your choice. Any preference? We'll be shopping among the leavings, but it's still a buyer's market..."
"Hmm. I fancy meat. With grease. And not much salt. Let's see what's left."
"Come with me," Thuvalia invites Snake peremptorily. "I'm sure I have some errands you can run." She starts toward the guest wing but stops short when faced with the clustered tables and chairs. "Would you?" she commands, waving her hand at the obstacle and waiting for him to clear a path.
Braddon and Gristav part from the talent and head east toward Leeward Common. Although the skies are still blue, the sun has sunk beneath the summit of the western ridge, and Riddleport itself is in shadow. The streets are busy with pedestrians leaving work and seeking to do a little last-minute shopping before close of business.
The open-air market itself is in confusion: some of the merchants already departing to farms outside of town, some in the process of packing their wares away, others who have only a short stroll to homes in Riddleport still actively hawking, and in and amongst all of them, late shoppers, bargain-seekers, and street vendors. From what the pair can discern among the hubbub, there is plenty of fish still to be had, and some meat and poultry that won't keep, but vegetables and less perishable staples are in short supply.
Braddon looks around for something that isn't fish.
"Is this it?" he asks Gristav.
"I suppose we could join Saul for a free dinner."
Taking a deep breath, Snake proceeds to move the tables and chairs out of the way. Once done, he nods and steps out of the way allowing her to proceed.