Fable - Ask A Rock and a Hard Place

[Varo]

Varo did not seem the least bit deflated by Artemis' words, apparently on some sort of high...or probably stilld drunk. "Details!"

He said with a wave of his hand, fishing out the pipe from his pocket.

It was a miraculous little thing, one of the men at the Club had given it to him after he'd made a cracking joke about the peasants mucking about like pigs in the Shallows. The man had practically insisted after Varo had told him he'd never tried smoking before.

Packing the bowl of the pipe he gestured with the stem towards Irari.

"Whatever they put in front of us, that chest is worth it." He smirked. "It's not gold though, it-"

Just as he was about to speak up William slammed the door open and shouted at him. His face paled, and he looked genuinely...surprised. Features shifted for a moment. "Well...I mean..."

What was that feeling in the pit of his stomach?

He frowned for a moment, clearing his throat as he wandered over to one of the cupboards and grabbed a mug.

"The Tavern has a back entrance to the Club, and It's usually watched but with the guards distracted..." Varo placed the cup in front of William. "Have some wine."

The copper haired lad pushed the bottle towards his...friend. "You did well!"

Varo turned around and gave a grimace, sticking the pipe between his lips.

 

[Jace]

So not only had he been given the baby's job of the group but they had also not trusted him enough to do it on his own and had sent someone else to do it too?!

Jace stared at the bottle of wine in front of him as the rain water drip, drip, dripped off of his nose and chin then onto the floorboards. Quite the little puddle was already forming around him and he shunted closer to the fire, grabbing the bottle of wine as he went, and turned his back on the room and their victory. Fuck the lot o' 'em. He would go off and start his own little crew where he wasn't treated like a child, where he was listened to, respected--

He only looked up when William kicked the door in. The poor man looked even worse than he did and when he joined him by the fire they shared a sullen look of shared pain. He wasn't usually allowed much alcohol but he put the bottle to his lips and took three large glugs of the stuff before sticking it between his knees and holding out his hands to the flame.

Yeah, fuck the lot o' 'em.

Maybe William would join his gang.

 

[Irari]

In the span of a few minutes, the room filled up with a lot of surly, wet, and broody criminals. Irari would have observed the process with some fascination if she weren’t so used to it already. Par for the course, really – she’d have been more shocked to see them return without a bruise or a scowl.

She shook her head at the antics behind her back and slid the drying parchment a little further up the string running from one wall to another above the meager fireplace. Heat was a quick way to age up a document. If they had more time (and coin) she might’ve splurged with some judicious application of acid, but they didn’t have that kind of luxury right now.

“Will, Jace, Agnes up the road put some laundry out on her balcony a few hours ago. Go see if you can’t get some dry clothes there,” she cut through the din of growing argument as she stared critically at the position of the document.

One more nudge to the left. It couldn’t be too symmetric.

“What did you find out about the chest, Varo?” Irari turned around then, pinching the pipe out of his hand with those long spider fingers. “This tabacc wasn’t being imported into Alliria yet when this deed was dated. Smoke it tomorrow. Outside, preferably.”

 

[Wren Kingsley]

Wren was the last to return. It'd taken up most of her day following Remi's goons around the city, waiting for them to find some poor unfortunate who'd missed a payment. She had an affinity for blending in to the shadows, and so staying out of the way wasn't difficult.

The poor guy, a tavern owner, was beaten about senseless by the time they were through with him. His kneecap had been smashed, and as the thugs left him laying in the alley, they assured him that he should feel lucky that it'd only been one. He had two days to sort out what he owed, and it'd be the other. Mention of his daughter was also brought into their negotiations. Wren grimaced as she watched the man try and fail to pull himself to his feet, and she growled to herself as she stepped out of the shadow to wander on passed him, dropping the only coin purse she'd managed to pick that day. it was heavy, she was sure it would clear his debts, and both her pocket and her conscience felt a little lighter as she continued on with her task.

Sissy's men caught her attention when they slunk around a corner after a particularly pretty lady. By the time Wren was done, the two men lay in the gutter, unconscious, their kneecaps shattered with their own batons, and their pockets emptied.

There wasn't a scratch on her as she shoved through the rickety door of the safe house, but she was far paler than usual and her eyes blinked heavily. She barely paid any much attention as she trudged on up to the table, emptying her pockets of three fat coin purses which made a heavy thud against the wood as she dropped them.

She made a point of picking the heaviest one back up, and she reached to take William's cup of wine before turning toward the stairs with a grumble.

"Going to bed.."

 

[William de Courcey]

William, like Jace, was content to sit in silence feeling sorry for himself while trying to fight off early stage hypothermia. The wine made a bit of a difference but he was still shaking all over while drinking it. Still, a fine warmth started spreading through parts of him.

Irari sensed the mood and prodded them to go and be active. He rose with a groan, giving Jace a nudge. "We should try it" he mumbled, it was a blatant hint to go out and not cause an argument. They had Wren enter then, dumping off gold and plucking his wine off him. "That's mine-" he protested but she was tramping up the stairs to rest.

 

[Varo]

The room had a rather dour feel to it now, especially when Wren broke in through the door and grabbed William's cup with a grumble.

Varo frowned for a moment, looking at Irari and then down onto his pipe. He let out a loud, rather dramatic sigh and then shook his head. "Whys everyone gotta be so fucking miserable all the time."

The lycan said with a shake of his head, the words so quiet that only those with the best of hearing would be able to pick it up.

"The Anirian isn't that important himself apparently, and agent of some sort from one of the Noble houses." Varo had of course been told that the Anirian was something called a 'Dreadlord', but he didn't really think that was important, not knowing what one of them was. He just figured it was some fancy soldier title. "What he's delivering though, oh so good."

Slowly he snaked his way over to Irari and away from the dour twins. He decided on not lighting the pipe, but using it as an accessory to point instead. "Deeds."

He practically beamed.

"Or rather, bonded deeds. Legal title to several large islands in the Cortosi Coast." Varo smirked. "Way I was told, anyone holding those titles has legal claim to those islands."

The boy was practically beaming.

 

[Jace]

The young lad looked up at Will with the eyes of a sad puppy but nevertheless he nodded and stood up. Dry clothes sounded good either way, anything to not feel so cold anymore.

"She scare's the shit outta me," Jace confessed when they were outside and trudging down the steps back into the alleyway. There was no need to say who 'she' was and he cast a glance over his shoulder towards the safe house just to make sure she hadn't somehow materialised behind them both. "Maybe we should bring her back somethin'." Petyr had always brought Ma Loresta a slice of cake from the market when he had done something wrong in order to avoid a clip around the ear or if he had needed her in a particularly good mood before he did something terrible. Perhaps that was the strategy to deploy with Wren.

The rain had mercifully stopped but droplets still fell on the pair from the rooftops as they squelched their way down the street. It wasn't long though before they happened upon the prized goods swinging across the narrow alleyway. There were a couple of dresses, some shirts, and a few pairs of trousers.

"Are you gonna do your...?" Jace made a flippy acrobat gesture towards the ropes.

 

[Artemis]

Artemis watched quietly.

They were in this for real estate?

If any of them blinked they'd lose track of Artemis as she moved. It wasn't magic. She was just that good at moving silently, quickly, and with stealth.

One moment she was perched in the shadows and the next, she was peering over Irari's thin shoulder at the female's work. "How long did it take you to learn this skill?" A quiet question.

 

[William de Courcey]

"The feeling is the exact same for me" William admitted, "She was out all day kneecapping people. I'm not sure if bringing her cake will help". It couldn't hurt though, "Maybe something then....just to keep her off our backs for a while". Most underestimated Wren. She wasn't particularly tall or broad. They learnt the hard way not to ever do it again. "Maybe a dress?"

He eyed the climb, gritting his teeth. "Yeah it's only twenty or thirty feet". He started upward and paused a couple of feet off the ground. "I'll toss them down, then we leg it"

He went up further and awkwardly kept his legs on the wall while resting one hand on the rope across the street, reaching to unclip the first item of clothing and letting it fall.

 

[Jace]

"Wha' about tha' blue one!?" he shouted-whispered and pointed to the blue dress fluttering along the clothesline. He was, of course, joking. Even he knew that Wren would probably ram the dress down their mouths for even bothering. Cake was definitely better; he'd seen her eat at the very least, he'd never seen her wear a dress. He leaned back against the wall and brought out his deck of cards, flipping through them one at a time as he waited for William to do his little parkour act.

As the first item of clothes dropped it landed on his head. Jace scowled but when he felt how dry it was he paid a bit more attention to what it was William was doing.

"Can you get me those trousers at the top Will? They look long enough," it was the problem with growing constantly, every pair of breeches was up to his knees in a few weeks.

 

[Irari]

A voice suddenly appeared next to her ear. Irari tensed, but didn’t startle – in a house this chock-full of thieves and catburglars, you quickly learned not to react. You would never survive the pranking otherwise.

“How long did it take you to learn yours?” she asked with that even tone of hers, never looking away from her work as she slowly chipped at the edges of the parchment. Fabricating something authentic through an artificial process was… well, an art. You could hone it through hard work, but there always remained an element of je ne sais quoi that you were either born with or not.

Finally satisfied with its current state, the faun left the document to dry and smiled up at Artemis. “I have never stopped.”

Nodding at the assassin, Irari undertook the feat of navigating among the scattered chairs – between Will and Jace, it was like the northern wind was blowing straight through the apartment. One of these days, she was going to teach them to tidy up after themselves. Even better, she could pin Wren alone to the task and then wait out the few hours it would take for the woman to teach them about the value of shared responsibility.

Yes, that would work rather nicely.

She hopped up onto the table, turning the confiscated pipe over in her hands as she watched Varo with her big, innocent eyes. It disappeared and reappeared with every turn of her wrist, held now in her left, then in her right.

“Bonded deeds are very easy to trace,” she pointed out gently, finally setting the trinket aside. “All unique items are. We would have to wait years if we wanted to sell them and get away with it.”

“However.”

She smiled then, her ears twitching with quiet excitement. “We could always hold them ransom.”

 

[Varo]

When Irari snatched the pipe from him Varo had the look of a puppy that had just had his nose smacked.

He had been given that my Merchant Lord Albrecht Rechtfell, the man who had told him most of the information and talked to Varo about his very pretty daughter. Of course, Lord Rechtfell thought Varo was the son of an Oban Noble, but...well that didn't matter.

Did it?

"Right." He said quietly. "Of course. Obviously."

They couldn't just take those deeds and own islands. That would never work. His fingers tightened for a moment and he half reached out to try and take his pipe back...but Irari had made it disappear, and then set it down on the table.

He frowned, reading the hint and tentatively picking up the pipe and sticking it back into his pocket.

Outside, right. "Okay."

He breathed, looking down at Irari with a bashful smile.

"We should plan, yeah? Get the others together, maybe get everyone a cup of tea?" He still sort of felt bad about that whole thing with William. "Artemis, put a pot on yeah?"

Varo said as he peeled himself away from Irari and wandered towards the stairs. "I'll go get Wren."

The other two would wander back in soon, plus he was sure Itch would make it back eventually. She usually liked to make sure Mr. Neekers and Mr. Chibbles got their afternoon meals before heading back.

 

[Itch]

“Oh, tea! That would be lovely,” came a bright voice from out of the blue, well, not actually out of the blue but from a head peeking through the particularly mutilated door.

She was a ragged sort, was Itch, looked like she went sledging through hedges in the rain for fun leading one to think, 'oh my, what scrape did you get into?' Although there were very few scrapes to be found, she just...looked like that. After all, when one lived in the sewers, the first thing that tended to go out of the window was personal grooming.

Slowly the girl sidled into the room, casting a confused glance backwards at the beleaguered door before she shut it so delicately you'd have thought that the wood was her friend.

“Talk about your fixer-uppers,” Itch commented under her breath with a sniff, wondering just how violent this group of fellow hoodlums were.

Clad in a horrendous amount of brown and ragged layers that had been patched up far too many times the sewer-dweller didn't quite join the fray in the middle of the room but instead lurked at the edges, offering a polite smile and a happy little wave to Varo (who was about half-way up the stairs) and his other two companions.

“I would have brought a toffee bun to share, but Mr. Chibbles was a greedy little git as usual,” she added with a tight-lipped grin, “alas, perhaps next time.”

 

[William de Courcey]

Jace showed that he wasn't just a pretty face by suggesting that maybe, just maybe, Wren mightn't be too well disposed to receiving a dress from them. The only reason he was going along with it was because William was twenty plus months older than him and practically venerable with knowledge in the ways of women.

"Yeah" he said, straining to reach them and sending two pairs fluttering down for good measure. A shout came and he swore "Bollocks". A window was opening now and William scurried down the wall as quick as he could to help grab the rest of the clothes. "Leg it" Behind them came the roars of the enraged laundrywoman promising dire threats.

The door got shouldered in as the two damp thieves came back in with their stolen clothes. "O hello Itch" William said, he'd not been expecting a visitor. It seemed they were dragging in all of the gang for this job. It was definitely going to be lucrative if they were all getting a cut. "We got the clothes" he announced proudly to Irari. "Actually is Wren around? We got her something to cheer her up"

 

[Varo]

Varo gave Itch an emphatically happy wave.

Unlike most of the grumps in the crew, Itch tended to be alongside him one of the more joyful members of the gang. Talking to her was usually pleasant, unlike with some of the others who tended to just be dour about everything.

Plus he liked hearing about the rats.

Back home they'd never had any, even in the sewers, so hearing tales of how they rooted around and made their way through Alliria was absolutely fascinating. Not that he ever wanted to go near them.

Heading up the stairs Varo didn't see William and Jace return, though he did hear the door slide open again. The loud creak of the now somewhat shattered would echoed through the whole of the building. We should fix that.

Varo thought to himself as he turned the corner and found the door to Wren's room.

The young Werewolf didn't really think as he grabbed the handle and pushed the door open, not quite barging in, but not bothering to knock. He'd never really had to knock before.

"Hey Wren!" He said as he stepped into the room. "Need you downstairs for some planning."

 

[Wren Kingsley]

"VARO WHAT THE FUCK?!!"

Clothing was just never comfortable to sleep in. She wore it all day, tight leathers, crushing corsets, pinching boots and heavy blades. There was nothing quite like tearing it all off after a hard day, and Varo had just glimpsed far more than he could afford. Wren snatched up her blanket that she'd thrown off at some point, holding it around her chest as she got up and stormed at the man.

"Not a fucking word." she growled as she shoved him out of the door and slammed him into the wall before all but throwing him down the stairs.

"I'll be downstairs when I'm fucking ready to come downstairs!"

 

[Varo]

Varo stared.

It wasn't subtle either, like a moth looking into a flame. The Werewolf opened his mouth a second after Wren began to scream, but he found them dead on his tongue as he felt a sudden shove on his chest. His shirt was grabbed, and then with a surprising amount of violet strength the young lad was thrown into the hallway.

He stumbled, shifting and half tripping at the corner before just barely managing to catch himself on the railing. For a few seconds he stood there startled, holding onto the wooden bannister before he drew himself back up and dusted himself off.

With a smile on his face Varo began to make his way down the stairs, tussling his hair a little so nothing seemed out of place. "She'll be down in a...umm a second."

He flashed a smile, then looked over to Itch with a shrug.

Then he quickly made his way over to one of the tables, sitting down quietly...innocently.

 

[Artemis]

Luckily for all, she knew how to make tea. Smoke meats. Grill meats. Sure. Bake or actually cook? No.

A ghost of a smile on her lips at Irari.

She’d never stopped either. A subtle nod of respect.

with the commotion upstairs, Artemis fished out some cups as the tea whistled that it was ready.

“Would anyone like some huckleberry-vanilla tea to go with the lovers’ spat upstairs?”

A shame Itch wasn’t able to get those cakes. Or scones. Or biscuits.

Cups and kettle were balanced in hands that preferred whips, daggers, and knives.

 

[Jace]

Jace began stripping off as soon as he was in the door. Though the run had warmed him up a little bit the cold from his wet rags was already stealing it from him. He had the brazen disregard for social decorum that only came with youth. Shirt, shoes, breeches all were flung towards the fire for drying as he pulled on the new assortment of pilfered clothing.

"Itch!" He exclaimed in greeting after putting his head through the new shirt. Out of the gang she was the one he had known the longest from his days on the street. Her rats had stolen a piece of bread he had been eyeing up and when he had followed it he had found her. She was quiet but sometimes Jace preferred that and her rats to the bickering between the rest of them. Plus she always shared her treats.

Once dressed he caught her up in a friendly hug then sat down with his tea. The stolen breeches were still a bit too short in the leg but it didn't seem to bother the kid.

"I didn't know you were comin' or I'da saved some pie," he looked genuinely sorry.

 

[Wren Kingsley]

The group were subjected to the stomping from above as Wren got herself dressed, the muffled sound of her raging voice as she ranted to herself - a habit the group would be used to by now. "Think he'd learn how to fucking KNOCK.." and "Fucking ginger IDIOT.." were clearly audible amidst the rest of her rambling.

After a few minutes of silence, Wren descended the steps calmly, elegantly even, her clothes pristine and her dark waves pulled back from her face into a dignified bun. There was no question of Wren's nobility, but when the surface layer she'd been taught to adorn was scraped away, she was absolutely fucking deranged. Calm. She could be that. She could do that. Her jaw clenched a little as she dragged her eyes over Varo, but otherwise she was sure she had gotten it out of her system now that her wall had a few extra dents in it.

To the others, Wren smiled. "I'd love some tea. Thank you Art." she dipped her chin politely as she moved to her chair at the table, her usual limp a little less subtle and her eyes a little more tired than usual. She cleared her throat, folded her hands on the table in front of her, and lifted her chin as she cast her emerald gaze across the others.

"So. Reports?.." she asked, her voice like dripping honey and her smile just as sweet.

 

[William de Courcey]

Just about everyone could picture the altercation upstairs. They were silent while listening to Gwen roaring and Varo nearly being sent flying down the stairs. William focused on getting into dry clothes before he died of hypothermia.

Conversation resumed but it was punctuated by angry stomping above on the creaky floorboards, Wren keeping up a running commentary of mumbles and shouts. When she finally emerged, it was with the grace of a queen. She descended the stairs looking immaculate. An uncharacteristic smile appeared on her face, as if she was thrilled with their company. Composing herself, she sat as if at a lady's luncheon, voice sickly sweet.

William was on edge. At least with a grumpy Wren, you knew what you were in for. Maybe now was the time to get in the good books. "Well we" he began, indicating himself and Jace, "Managed to get you this" he declared proudly, the pair of them producing the blue dress and placing it on the table.

"It's got decotellage" he added helpfully "Lots of it". He wasn't sure what the word meant but he'd heard marks discussing it before he pickpocketed them. "It's something in fashion I hear"

 

[Itch]

There were a lot of questions in Itch's mind and most of them revolved around the blue dress that had joined the fray alongside William and Jace. It had mischief written all over it, not that she opposed, it was preferable to the scheduled misery and rage that could come in spades from choice members of the group.

Right on cue.

The muffled sound of Wren's rage screeched downstairs as the sewer-dweller returned an awkward grin to Varo that spoke volumes (it really just said yikes, small volume, huh).

“That sounds delicious, Arty!” Itch piped up before opening her mouth to ask if she needed a hand with all the cups before realising that the woman had the legendary dexterity and balance of a tight-rope walker, “I'll have some, but go easy on the lover's spat.”

Mr. Neekers had fallen out with his girlfriend, Lady Snoofle again. She'd had quite enough of romantic quarrels for one day.

As Jace gave a trademark hug there was a loud squeak from one of the woman's front pockets and a lump in her clothing swiftly travelled up from her chest to her shoulder as to not get squashed. His insistence on hugs had always puzzled Itch, she wasn't exactly the patron saint of perfume, ah, but it was not so unwelcome. They were great hugs, warming, like a hearty bowl of broth.

A second, angrier squeak came from an emerging snout from her collar, as Claude (her favourite rat, don't tell the others) peeked out upon revelation of the missed pie.

“Aw, don't worry about it, there's always more pie out there,” she smiled as Claude gave a third indignant squeak at Jace, clearly upset about missing out on food, “you'd think they'd stop leaving them to cool on window sills by now.”

After all the stomping above, an entrance was at last ready to be made by the most terrifying woman this side of Alliria.

And it was perfectly calm.

Which was somehow scarier.

Itch awkwardly glanced around the room, looking to Irari, who always seemed to have the most sense and well, seemed to be lumbered with most of the thinking around here. How did she cope with all the chaos of this lot around her?

Speaking of...

...prior mischief had come to light as William presented Wren with the dress and boasted about its...low neckline. Wow, it was like he wanted to live the rest of his life with no kneecaps. Besides, cleavage never ever went out of fashion in the first place! Itch decided not to comment, choosing to have a brain instead.

And also kneecaps.

 

[Irari]

There was commotion.

There was always commotion, here. When she desperately needed her peace, Irari vacated the premises and went for a walk. Or pulled long hours at the bank, staying after closing time to sort out paperwork in the resounding silence that only tall vaulted ceilings could provide.

And she wasn’t going to church anytime soon.

Today it was fine, however. The noise and the bickering painted a small smile on her thin lips as she observed doom being set in motion. William presented his gift of ‘decotellage’ to Wren, doubtless pilfered from Agnes’ clothesline along with their new wardrobe. As she watched him splay out the dress, Irari wrestled with her own internal dilemma.

On the one hand, it would most likely lead to a fight, or at the very least a heated argument. There was a good chance of knives flying around, and they weren’t exactly blessed with empty space in the now-packed common room. People could get hurt.

On the other hand, entertainment.

Irari accepted her cuppa from Artemis with a thankful nod, and settled back to watch.

 

[Wren Kingsley]

A slender brow slowly arched as she looked from William to the cobalt fabric on the table, and she stared for a painfully long time without speaking, without even a flinch of expression to betray what she thought of the gift. She was quite uncertain for a moment if it was some form of humour, some poorly placed joke that she was by no means in the mood for. But she realised, given the pride he wore whilst presenting the garment, that it wasn't a jest at all.

There was a moment where she considered, given her current apparent state of calm, that she could gratefully accept it (without ever wearing it) just for the sake of recognising the kindness that had been meant by the gesture. Perhaps they had meant to cheer her up, she could appreciate kindness and the world needed more of it...

But then..."I think, you mean décolletage.." she annunciated, speaking the word like her mother might, her head tilting ever so slightly as she reached a hand to curl her fingers into the fabric and drag the thing toward her. "I wasn't aware, William, that you felt I needed to reveal a little more of my cleavage, or is it the shoulders that do it for you?.." her lips pursed, and then she forced the same sweet smile, her voice just as syrupy, just as.. unstable.

Wren never wore anything with colour in it, much to her parents' chagrin. 'Black is for mouring, Wren, you won't attract suitors if you look so depressing'. 'Ladies wear pretty colours, Wren'. 'Oh for goodness sake, try to look like you want a husband, Wren'. Also, much to her husband's disgust.. 'Wear this, you look better in blue,Wren..'.. 'Ladies should have more dresses, Wren.' .'Lets see a little more of that skin, Wren..'

"They're trying to be nice....." she told herself quietly.

It has...décolletage...

Stay calm..She could do that, she could be that.

No she could fucking not be that. And why should she be what they wanted her to be? She had never been what anyone wanted her to be, and she wasn't about to start now. They had to know that this was so completely the wrong way to cheer her up, this was so fucking not okay. "Just put on a dress and smile, Wren?..." she looked at William. No, glared.

Her blade slammed into the table and straight through the dress, her knuckles pale as she tightened her grip on it before letting it go and leaving it there. "Now it has a little more fucking décolletage.."

She sat back in her chair with a huff and folded her arms, looking around the table. "Any other reports?.."

 

[Varo]

Oof. Varo thought to himself as he watched William and Jace's gift get stabbed onto the table.

If he were a stupid man, which he was of course not, he might have said something. Luckily he had a little bit of sense, and instead of piping up Varo instead kept whatever was tumbling around in his mind behind his lips.

Though of course he obviously pictured Wren in the dress. Would have looked nice in blue.

Varo thought, leaning back in his chair and kicking his feet up on the table.

Half his mind was paying attention to whomever was going to speak, the other was still stuck upstairs.