Mortal Mist (ACCEPTING)

[Alledae]

Taharan, Uhmma /// Vermilion, Ivich /// Recovered

The tanned man passively noticed Vermilion admiring his not so legitimate leg and shrugged it off, not minding in the slightest. It wasn't like this quality of prosthetic appendages were a very common thing to behold; besides, he very much preferred the brilliant look of intrigue on the kitsune's face over the usual glances of pity, or god forbid lowlifes eyeing it up to sell for scrap parts.

It's not exactly easy to replace ball-joints on a bard's meager wages.

The woman seemed to lose herself in thought for a moment with that all too familiar glazed look that said he'd hit the nail on the head. Then again, it wasn't much of a surprise what with her family evidently being involved in trade. "I'd say. Terrifying siblings certainly add to the charm of these things, too." Orridan chuckled. Somewhere a high female voice exclaimed a few choice words that would make even the most rugged Dantop workers blush - though, something told him the other male at the table wasn't completely unfamiliar with the language. Truly, this mischievous demoness knew how to instigate a hell of a riot. "Well, I go where the party takes me mostly. It's where the money's usually at. Plus I gotta keep this old thing well-greased if I wanna be able to make a run for it from time to time; can't do much if there's mud and all that clogging up the gears. Sorry, I don't believe we caught your name?"

[Rexton Grey]

Vermilion
Location: Taharan, Uhmma | Tagged: Ivich Whitby, Orridan Kahlash

Vermilion huffed in amusement at the other male. He swirled his beverage with one hand, taking a heartbeat to appreciate the pretty sight of liquid gold, before offering the pair a wide smile.

"She already introduced herself! Ivich, yes? Like... ivy itch. And now that I've said that out loud I realize that sounded offensive. Ivy itch is terrible. You break out into this horrible rash but not until hours after you touched the stuff, and you're just scratching the itch before you know what it is because you think its just an itch which spreads the rash to your fingers, which makes it really hard to hold a quill, and then you scratch some other random itch that has nothing to do with ivy and the not-yet-a-rash spreads to that part as well and it all stings like a swarm of wasps and lasts forever..." he trailed off, blinking at the other demons. A light blush suddenly dusted his cheeks and he cleared his throat. "Right, but yes. Ivich. That's her name. She said it was. Right."

He made a valorous effort to hide his discomfort by taking a gulp of his drink, forgetting entirely that it was not beer but rather wine that he was holding. The resulting blast of unexpected flavor startled him, and he forcefully set his glass down as some of the beverage went the wrong way. When his coughing fit finally ended, he turned a mortified look upon his tablemates. A few moments, and he mustered a crooked grin for Ivich. "At least you weren't named after a color?"

[.synthetica]

________________________

✦✦✦
ivich || vermillion, orridan
taharan || scheming
________________________

The Festival of Gaetina, or the Three Nights, was possibly one of the best traditions Ivich had come across while traveling around Uhmma. Sure, there was the Circlebreaking Festival in Jeleban, and the Night of the Spire in Deneal had been memorable to say the least, but as someone who was a bit of a celebration connoisseur (in her own opinion, anyway) the Three Nights were something rather unmissable. It would be Ivich's second time visiting, she'd waited all through the winter for it, and it didn't even bother her that the other two didn't seem to know a thing about it (okay maybe it bothered her a little bit) because it was happening soon and she was gonna party so hard.

The Festival of Gaetina was technically a fortnight of celebration, but considering the first (and longest) part of it was focused on solitary daily prayer and meeting in faith circles to discuss the revelations that participants have come to... Ivich tended to skip that part, anyway. The principal focus of the celebration was Gaetina, who was a popular minor deity in Taharan and most well-known for ushering Spring into the world after a cold and cruel Winter, and celebrating the life that comes with it. On the last three nights of the festival, the city would explode with colour, music, song, and various performances. Inns would throw open their doors to share food and drink and host the best performers to play the best songs.

All that, with the heavenly little cookies that people baked and sold in the streets, and the various opportunities to gain a few extra coins while everyone's fabulously distracted (all to be spent in the proper celebratory spirit, of course), made for possibly the most fantastic three nights of Ivich's whole year.

So she was fairly forgiving of Vermilion's little monologue about her name, and how it make him think of one of the more unpleasant things that can happen to a person, and waved away his awkward attempts to change the subject with an impatient little sigh. "Yes, yes, I'm apparently named after a horrible rash instead, and that name is Ivich, by the way," she snapped, throwing an eye-roll at the pair of them before she swiftly carried on, "but you're telling me you don't know about the festival? The festival? If you really can play that thing, you're looking at your biggest opportunity of the year."

As she refilled the drinks once again, a wine-fueled idea bloomed in her head. "Say... it might be an opportunity for the three of us. Verminion," she couldn't help the dig after the travesty he'd made of her own name, "you're certainly pretty enough. Can you sing? Pairs sell better around here at festival time. Especially at the Cockerel."

If the bard was worth his salt, he would certainly recognise the tavern and music hall which was known for it's high-class, well-tipping clientele. Ivich normally couldn't get in, as even without the security and detailed guest-lists, it was simply beyond her price range. But with the three of them... she was looking at one of the biggest potential scores she'd ever made. All she needed to do was convince them.

[Alledae]

Taharan, Uhmma /// Vermilion, Ivich /// Uninjured

Orridan couldn't help but chuckle as Vermilions verbal stumbling earned him a passive aggressive call out. Usually it was him spewing unintentionally offensive monologues all over the place; what a pleasantly refreshing change of pace. I know enough about it. I may be scatter-brained but I'm not completely in the clouds. Besides, no one wants to hire somebody who doesn''t have a clue about their traditions." he replied, finishing off his drink promptly, "Lovely wine, by the way,
very flavourful."

As he listened to Ivich continue, the man's face slowly fell into one of polite disbelief, lips pursing as his brows made a valiant attempt to consort with his hairline. "Even my sister isn't good enough to have pull in there to get me work, how the hell do you plan on convincing them we're good enough? I heard that a few years ago the Monks rented out the entirety of the balcony seating to celebrate their new group of fresh magic blood joining the Order." he said, "But... if you can do it,
I have quite the talent on string instruments as well - fiddles included. What do you say, Vermilion? Wanna put those vocal chords to the test?"

[Rexton Grey]

Vermilion
Location: Taharan, Uhmma | Tagged: Ivich Whitby, Orridan Kahlash

Vermilion blinked a few times, evidently contemplating the information he'd been offered and letting the verbal wordplay with his name slide. He tilted his head to one side and took a small sip of his wine, before grinning a touch sheepishly. "Well, ah, of course I've heard of the festival. And yes, I can sing. Just... that seems like quite the impressive venue to perform for. Singing is not quite my life's dedication," he said, here nodding to Orridan and his flute, "and I don't think placing me with masters would make for a flattering comparison. Plus, ah, most of the songs I know are meant for... coarser company. I'm sure I've got a ballad stored away somewhere in here, though."

He finished off his wine before speaking again, draining the last of the beverage before placing his now-empty glass back upon the tabletop. He sized up first one demon, then the other. He huffed in amusement, leaning back slightly as his contemplative look was replaced by an easy smile. "Listen to us, though. Not even three minutes met and already planning some form of musical mischief. I barely know the two of you."

The look in Ivich's eyes, however, was something he knew well. He could catch a glimpse of it in a reflective surface sometimes, though it was often accompanied by a wicked grin. He'd seen it on his normally straight-laced brother the day before he'd found his red hair turned muddy brown. It was a flicker that had settled in his mother's eyes right before she pulled some prank on his father, not that he had seen that one for a long while. The fact was that he recognized the trickster's glow for what it was, and knew that whatever demon this Ivich was would probably do a kitsune's sense of mischief proud.

[Alledae]

Taharan, Uhmma /// Vermilion, Ivich /// Uninjured

"Well, you know what they say about birds of a feather. And don't worry about lyrics, that's what I'm here for. I've got plenty of song sheets to pick from - Ivich can shuffle through for whatever she thinks will be the biggest hit and all you gotta do is learn the words." Orridan chuckled. Grabbing one of the remaining bottles of wine from the center of the table and filled up each of their glasses again, grinning mischievously.

The brawling behind them had settled down a bit, but several particularly stubborn patrons kept the instigation coming quite nicely. The lute player passed their table on her way to the bar and swiped a messy swig of his wine, a splash of it dripping from her chin onto his shoulder in her haste, and slurred some jumbled mess through a busted lip about how he owed it to her for the chair before she walked away. Sighing, he just took a swig himself and leaned back in his seat. "Now, then. Ivich. What's your plan for getting us in?"

[.synthetica]

________________________

✦✦✦
ivich || vermillion, orridan
taharan || fleeing
________________________

With every moment she grew more confident in actually pulling off this loosely tied together idea she'd found at the bottom of her cup. If the only thing holding them back was Orridan's doubt she'd be able to get them into the Cockerel and Vermilion's doubt about his own singing, they were as good as in there already. Honestly, her biggest problem was usually silly moral concerns about theft or, Gods-forbid, taking places from more deserving artists. But then they were all demons, and so their concerns about the happiness of a handful of rich, spoiled humans were somewhat nonexistent. Really, it was refreshing. She could deal with practical concerns and self-criticism. Wouldn't be much of a schemer if she couldn't.

Firstly, to reassure Vermilion, who still seemed a bit hesitant, she turned her most charming smile his way and rolled her shoulders in an easy shrug. She said, "Now, we still have some time until the real festival starts. All those temple-going bores are making their way through the first round of back-patting and chanting and they'll be at it until they all feel good and self-righteous about everything." She watched appreciatively as Orridan took over the role of filling their cups and noticed that they'd just about finished off the second bottle of wine. Amazing what a Water Nymph could do to the overall quality of an alcoholic beverage, really.

When the lute-player barged her way past their table and imperiously snatched away Orridan's cup, managing to look perfectly haughty even with a face covered in blood and pushing words out past a split lip, Ivich appreciatively watched that, too.

"Well. There goes our muscle, if we can ever track her down again. I don't know about you, but I don't think lute-playing is what she usually gets up to. Not with a right hook like that." She muttered, carrying her voice only to the other two - she'd rather not put a crossbow bolt in the girl, who still looked incensed as anything as she pushed past the night watch who tried to stop her and left the Lizard.

The night watch who looked in their direction and squinted in consideration as they spotted Ivich. Wonderful.

"Ah. Well," she turned back to her companions, finished off her full glass in a couple of swallows (no point in wasting good Lallequ wine), and hastily addressed Orridan in her most confident plan-voice, "Look. Leading up to the Three Nights, most taverns hold auditions, and so does the Cockerel. You don't need to win a place. Make yourself noticed. Flirt with everyone you can, be interesting, make sure they remember your names. I'll take care of the rest. Okay?" A quick look behind her confirmed that the two watchmen were indeed heading towards their table. "Okay," she continued, "If you're in, you'll do this. I'll meet you at the Tender Pig the night before the festival starts. Have fun!"

And from there, there had to be some trust involved. With another golden flash of her eyes, she sent a tremor and knocked a chair over to fall under the feet of the incoming watchmen. They stumbled with a shout, and she used the distraction to slide out of the booth and flee out of the Lizard, and into the night.

Leaving two incensed, armed guards with no one to focus on but Orridan and Vermilion.

[Rexton Grey]

Vermilion
Location: Taharan, Uhmma | Tagged: Ivich Whitby, Orridan Kahlash

Vermilion couldn't help but let out a peel of laughter during Ivich's escape, as he contemplated the advice he'd been given. Not even two days in town and he was already planning a... what would you even call what they were doing? Underhanded supplanting of more deserving artists in the name of making coin? He'd almost feel bad for the musicians whose spot they were going to take, if he wasn't very certain they'd be rolling in money at the end of the third night no matter what. Yeah, he wanted in on that kind of coinage. Being an unguilded cartographer didn't exactly put food in his stomach.

Oh, those guards were looking at them now. And judging by their expressions, they were either really upset about Ivich giving them the slip or they thought that Vermilion had been laughing at them. Maybe a bit of both. Both seemed likely. He couldn't help but wonder exactly who Ivich was and what she did that she fled at the first sight of guardsmen coming closer. It spoke to some interesting facets of her character, to be sure.

"So, I'm not all that good at lying," he said conversationally to Orridan, speaking quickly to get it out while the armed individuals were out of earshot. Or, well, out of human earshot. "So when they question us I'm going to go off on a tangent about people I just met a few minutes ago and how she insulted my name and scratching at ivy." He made sure his blindingly bright and innocent 'I babysit puppies on weekends' smile was spread across his face, widening his big grey eyes a bit. His cheeks already felt hot, flush from earlier embarrassment and the alchohol he'd consumed. Though, one was probably slightly more flush than the other, what with the blow he'd taken...

[Alledae]

Taharan, Uhmma /// Vermilion /// Uninjured

These two certainly were unique. Not that it was really a surprise - demons generally had a tenancy to be a little eccentric, after all - but there was just something about the oddly welcoming mash of the three of them that felt so right. Genuine. It reminded him of his childhood growing up with his sisters on the farm, before the fire and his accident. The poking and prodding, mischievousness, a plan already brewing in less than an hour of talking. It felt a bit like being home again.

Orridan couldn't help smiling as Ivich darted off, laughing with Vermilion as she tripped up the night watch who looked woefully embarrassed. Frankly, it was a miracle that one of the numerous bottles laying on the ground hadn't naturally taken them out. The tallest one was a fair woman with slightly too-large eyes and a rather impressive scar cutting over the bridge of her nose, while the other was a stout but burly man with a thick red beard; they were quite the sight to behold as they attempted to scramble to their feet.

He listened to Vermilion explain his frankly overabundant honesty and snorted. "Maybe we could just give them this last bottle of wine as bribery and call it a night? Or tweak the story a bit. 'Oh, but officers, we were merely working on our trades when the fight broke out! How painfully difficult it is to draw maps when someone throws ale at you! How challenging it is to escape with one leg! That kind woman merely took pity on us. Please, won't you join us for some fine Lallequ wine?' Something like that." Orridan said, adopting an over-dramatic air of being victimized alongside a painfully fake posh accent, casting his head to the side and his forearm over his brow as though he were fainting on stage.

[.synthetica]

________________________

✦✦✦
ivich || xx
taharan || fleeing
________________________

As Ivich fled into the night, tugging her hood over her head to avoid the determined drops of rain still falling, she didn't feel all that bad about leaving the boys behind to deal with her pursuers. Two demons could easily outdo two tired, easily-bribed guards, who probably wanted nothing more than sound a little threatening, accept a few coins in bribes to spend at their watering hole, and go back to their warm outpost. If they couldn't, or it changed their mind about the plan... then it had been a good test, and either way she was content to hurry back to her room and let the evening draw to a close.

--

Vivienne couldn't believe their luck. First they're pulled out of the outpost in the pouring rain to look for some thief that had apparently been terrorizing Taharan for some time, fine, that's their job. Then the tavern they're heading for in search of information is turned upside-down by a brawl so they have to deal with that, and while she doesn't mind the stress-release, Jon shouldn't be doing anything more than interrogation and patrol work with that knee of his.

She thought it might end up okay when they spotted a woman matching the thief's vague description drinking with some friends in a corner - a subtle nod from Jon told her he thought the same thing. Well, excellent. They finished up with calming everyone down with a mixture of threats and sympathetic-sounding noises, and headed over to her table.

It doesn't end up okay.

How embarassing is it to be tripped up by a chair while heading over to a suspect. She just about screamed in frustration at the vile, soggy, bothersome day they've had, but bit it back and helped Jon to his feet instead. He gave her a grim look. She could imagine the kind of pain that was for his leg, so she squeezed his shoulder comfortingly. "We'll be back at base soon, boss." She said, glancing down briefly, "You good?"

He grunted in agreement, shouldering past her to limp to the table. Grumpy ass.

"Evening fellas," she said with a jovial tone completely contradicted by the hard glint in her steel grey eyes, "we're wondering if you'd answer some questions about your friend. She left in a pretty big hurry, huh?" Jon postured next to her, hand on the baton at his side, and she knew that the threat behind it was entirely intended with the evening he's had. A perfect counterpart, she kept her stance relaxed and open, flashing a smile at the pair of them as she commited their faces to memory. And that couldn't be easier to do, with the funny-looking duo they've come across. Performers, she thougth, with hair and taste in wine like that. There's a strange... feeling around them, one not completely unfamiliar to Vivienne. She's learned to trust it when it comes to troublemakers.

"Can we get your names?"