Private Tales Fireworks and a White Rabbit

A private roleplay only for those invited by the first writer

Jonathan Burr

The Fireworks Master
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Jonathan leaned back against the seat of his wagon, humming to himself. The transmuter was enjoying a nice sunny autumn day through the elven lands. His auburn hair matched the color of the changing leaves, a smile gracing his handsome features. He was dressed in loudly colored robes showing off sprays of color, meant to imitate the fire flowers he made.

The wagon was just as loud as he was. It was bright red, turquoise, and yellow, featuring a large white rabbit on the side dancing among the sparks. White Rabbit Fire Flowers. That was how Jon made his coin, and the precious baskets of unremarkable gray lumps in the rear of the wagon were his bread and butter.

The fire flowers were compounds of sulfur and metals oxidized by his magic. With a little pinch of saltpeter, they exploded in an array of colors. Jon made little palm-sized lumps, which would twirl violently on the ground when lit. There were tubes packed with more of the accelerant and oxidized metals, that shot hundreds of feet into the sky. Tiny versions of those paper tubes could be waved around, spraying multicolored light in ribbons.

Jonathan was a vendor of fun, and everyone loved his creations be they monarch or beggar. He looked at the creature pulling the wagon. To anyone else the wagon would appear to pull itself.
To Jonathan, a pooka was walking.

Hob was Jonathan’s patron, and he was a strange creature. He looked like a gigantic white rabbit, with long ears hanging behind his head. His mouth was full of fangs however, and his fur squirmed like a lawn of pinworms. His large arms he kept crossed over his chest; a set of smaller arms gripped the wagon tongues.

“Beautiful day. Air’s clear. The night is going to be perfect to grow some flowers.”
Jon said good naturedly.

Quit wasting the product. It takes time to make this much. Hob chided.
 
The day had been far too slow in terms of traffic for Varys's liking. His income relied solely upon how many gullible passerby he could lure into his cozy little alley, tucked in a less wealthy section of the city. His operation was little more than a battered wooden table, a deck of cards, and a stolen barstool with one leg shortened just a tad, so that it let Varys sit at an angle, back rested against the cold stone wall of the building behind him.

A large jug of water rested on the ground beside him, and every now and then he would take a swig, piercing gaze sweeping over the mouth of the dead-end alley. Shifting his gaze to the small pittance of gold sitting on the table he swore at his luck until he heard an unfamiliar sound. He heard the unmistakable turning of wheels against the old road, and he stood from his spot, harsh gaze reflexively softening to a much more welcoming and friendly demeanor.

His façade of kindness cracked a bit however, when the supposed vehicle turned out to be a wagon. That in and of itself was not shocking in anyway, what caused his mouth to twist in a moment of confusion, and his eyes to briefly narrow in anger that the one person to pass him today was dressed like some sort of walking circus of scarlet, was that the wagon he accompanied appeared to pull itself. Magic, bah, he had nothing but disdain for it. He could get by without such nonsense.

Still, this was an opportunity to make a coin, however slim. He ducked back into his alley, dusted off the old brown coat that he wore over the dirtied blue coat he'd spent a weeks worth of money on, and leaned casually against the wall of the alley until they passed. Once they crossed into his view, he coughed as if clearing his throat.

"Hey there, stranger, haven't seen you around here before. Care to make a little wager with me in a game of chance? You're new here, so I'll waive the entry fee!"
 
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Jon put his feet up as they trundled into the gate. Seeing a wagon supposedly driving itself always got a few curious looks, as well as the colorful explosions on the side. For people who had never seen fire flowers, it was enchanting. It was loud, it was ostentatious, and it gained him the attention of a young man.

Jon exchanged a brief glance with Hob and lifted a hand as if to stop the wagon. “Of course.” He grinned. He didn’t mind stopping; anyone trying to rob the back would be owning stumps for arms. Hob was quite protective of him.

“Of course. I’ll make you a wager.” He leaned back and plucked two fire flowers from his baskets. The first he lifted in an open palm. “I’ll wager you one of my fire flowers. Just a simple spark...” Jon flicked the small ball up into the air, where it spun and hissed. It lit up a bright lime green, showering the street in harmless sparks. It fizzled with a loud dramatic hiss in a plume of blue. It’s power finished after a few minutes, he held up the other. “Start a fire or impress a pretty lady. Up to you. But that’s my wager.”

Jon gave him a cocky smile. “What’s your game then stranger?”

Varys
 
Varys was quite oblivious to the methods with which he stopped his wagon. It seemed as simple as a wave of the hand, but the elf's young eyes squinted, as if sure there was something more. His concentration broke when the colorfully garbed man addressed him, and he did his best to once again appear to be paying attention.

In truth, he hadn't realized that the earlier noise he'd heard was not exclusively from the wagon. The loud explosion that had accompanied it seemed to be the odd "fire flower" that he now presented him with. He eyed the man quizzically for a moment, judging whether or not this was some kind of a joke. His demonstration did a fine job of dispelling his doubts, and he follows the bright green object with his eyes as it spins, the spiraling smoke reminding him of some sort of swamp storm. The sudden plume of blue emission causes him to step back warily, ready to flee at a moments notice. It took a few seconds of silence for him to regain his composure and cross his arms.

He really had no interest in the flower. Fire was something he could accomplish through far more practical means, and he had no time for women in his already unstable lifestyle. Still... he could probably sell the gadget for a decent profit. "Interesting indeed. Fine, I'll take that bet. Come with me, and we'll play a game of chance." He turns his back towards him, and slides his hands into the pockets of his jacket. Leading him down the alley, he slides behind the table, sinks onto the stool and begins to shuffle.

His calloused hands spoke to how often he'd been using them, and his attempt to cover the evidence with gloves failed when the gloves were as tattered as they were. Coupled with the soiled state of his clothing, the elf was obviously poor. Tilting his head up at the man, he explained. "I will deal three cards, face down. Two will display a sparrow. One will display an owl. All you have to do is find the owl three times. If you fail twice, I win." As he spoke, he placed three of the cards face down on the table in front of him.

Jonathan Burr
 
Jonathan looked at Hob, who sighed and gestured at him. Oh go play your stupid card game.‘ I’ll watch the wagon to keep you from being robbed blind. Hob shook his great head and leaned against the wagon. It groaned, the wheels digging in as though something heavy had just sat on it.

Jonathan strolled easily down the alleyway, smiling at the young man. He looked over the elf. He was dirty, and poor, and in bad need of a good meal and a bath. Jon was never bereft of company, but he did feel sorry for this elf. Perhaps he’d take a bath as payment if he lost?

“Alright then.” Jon tapped the leftmost card.

Varys
 
Varys's lack of wealth obviously had little effect on his confidence, he'd shuffled the old cards with the cadence of a dealer you'd see at an exclusive gambling tavern. He peers up at his patron after he made his choice, raising a single eyebrow. "You're sure about that?" His hand lowered to the leftmost card and quickly flipped it upwards. An old, faded image of an owl was printed on the other side. Varys allowed his lip to curl into a smirk.

"Lucky. Alright, two down and one to go." Once again, Varys gathered the cards and began to shuffle them at a particularly professional speed. As he laid the cards out, he spoke. "So tell me, that wagon of yours. How's it work? Some kind of magic? It looks to primitive to be mechanical in nature, and the design tells me it's specially made for you."

Jonathan Burr
 
Jonathan grinned, a twinkle in his eye full of mischief. Well well. This young man shuffled like he knew what he was doing. Jonathan had once run a carnival with people like this. Young and ambitious men who liked to fleece people for every penny. He tapped the right-most card, fully expecting to lose. After all you let the mark to win one.

“Oh I’ve got some help pulling it.” Jon said with a knowing smile. “It was specially made for him though. The wagon tongues are quite high, as he’s much taller than a horse. I do still need an assistant, however.”

Varys
 
The silver haired elf let his gaze wander briefly to the mouth of the alley, wondering what manner of pulling the cart he'd procured. He hadn't seen anything unusual when he'd watched him approach. "You'll have to forgive my ignorance. I've not seen much outside of this city in my life, sir." His voice dripped with a bit of bitterness as he drummed his fingers on the table, fingernails clicking softly against the wooden surface.

He reaches down and flips the card of his choice, displaying yet another owl. "You win again. One more is all you need." Despite the warm front he was trying to put out, it was increasingly obvious in his voice that he was an arrogant young man. His sharp brow spoke to impatience. "An assistant? Sounds like busywork. I've gathered you're a traveling salesman, do you only sell these 'flowers' that you're so fond of?" Again, he lays the cards out.

Jonathan Burr
 
Jonathan chuckled. “I also transmute.” He rolled up his generous sleeves, showing off the sparkling topaz emerging from his skin along his forearms. It looked like gemstone scales in some places. He gently touched the third card after the boy had laid them out, but this time he flipped it over and showed the boy what was on it. The paper fibers shivered a bit, crawling like tiny maggots in response to his call.

Magic sank into the card like water, and it began to change. Gold flowered along Jonathan’s fingertips where they met the card. “I can change anything...well most anything, into gold.” Jonathan smirked by way of explanation, laying the card down on the table. It slowly faded back into paper with crinkles and pops. “I work for the noble houses. Fire flowers aren’t just the small item we’re playing for. Care to see them sprout across the sky, larger than a dragon?” He grinned.
Varys
 
Something definitely lit up differently in Varys's eyes when he lifted the rather unnecessarily large sleeves of his blazing red garment up his arms, displaying the beauty that lie underneath. His mouth hung open, just a tad, as it seemed as though the entire alley lit up with the sun's reflection in the glimmering material that adorned his arms. He felt pressure in his mouth, realizing he was now clenching his teeth. He'd underestimated this odd foreigner; There was nothing about the man that was ordinary.

The card he'd picked... well, any of the three cards could be made a Sparrow. That was the trick of Varys's game. It was simple sleight of hand, that the inattentive and greedy often missed entirely. Now though he wouldn't have been surprised if the stranger told him he'd seen it happening from the beginning. The first card he'd chosen had been a Sparrow, and Varys had switched it to lead him in further. It seems he wasn't as clever as he'd suspected, and now he sat dumbfounded at the card. He'd been made to look like a fool, but the words he said did trigger an idea in his brain.

Reaching down, he picks up the card. Rather blatantly, he switches it with the one tucked in his glove before flipping it to reveal a third Owl.

"Look at that. A perfect game. I guess since I don't have any money, I'll have to work in return."

A small smirk formed on the corner of his lips as he stood from his lopsided stool and dusted his old jacket once again. Turning his back to Jonathan, he grasps the sides of the stool in his hands. "Step back if you would, sir." Taking a deep breath, one that seemed to last minutes rather than seconds, he winds back with a shout and smashes the stool through the old table, breaking both it and the already busted stool in a cloud of dust and dirt.

His eyes were calm as he wiped his hands on his pants, almost as if such an action granted him newfound peace. "So, where are we headed first?"

Jonathan Burr
 
Just as Jonathan expected, it had never been about the fire flower or the money. This had changed into the boy considering employment, and the cards merely a ruse to give him time. The transmuter grinned and stood back, letting the little trickster blow the table and stool away.

First? “First you’ve got to meet my business partner, Hob.” Jonathan led the other to the cart. “Hob, meet...eh...what was your name, lad?”

Slowly, the pooka made his appearance. A monstrous rabbit face appeared out of thin air where a horse should have been. The eyes were wide and yellow, a tiger’s eyes, and the sharp and toothy grin Hob gave the boy was anything but cute. The pooka did sport a pair of lopped ears, so large they trailed past his buttocks. He was long and gangly, with pure white fur...if it could be called that. The fur squirmed like a field of pinworms. Even the pooka’s muscles were lazy pythons slithering around and over his bones.

Don’t worry kid, just you and Jon can see me. So, you’re the new assistant?

Varys
 
Varys did of course have some measure of ulterior motives, but that wasn't to imply the opportunity did not somewhat intrigue him. Any chance to spread his metaphorical wings wide and leave this city he'd grown to despise so much was appealing enough in and of itself. If this was his path out of Fal'Addas, he wouldn't let it slip past.

He bowed before he'd even seen the vicious looking creature. "I am called Varys." It was the only name he had, and it was perhaps that fact that was partially responsible for his desire to leave. Who in the hell was he, truly? His father had rarely ever spoken to him before his death, their time always spent either eating or reading silently. It was more or less only out of necessity that he had a name at all. He'd pestered his father one day as a young boy, driving the man to wit's end until he finally relented, and gave him his moniker. There was no love from his late father.

Looking at the beast, who now addressed him in his own language, sent an unmistakable shiver down his spine. "What... manner of creature are you?" He'd never seen any creatures that didn't reside in the woods around Fal'Addas. He shakes his head as if to clear his vision, but the immense oddity remained.

Still, he nodded slowly. "Yes... I am." He turns his head toward Jonathan, and clears his throat. "Actually, I was wondering if we perhaps could one make stop on the way to whatever our next destination is? There's an old cabin a ways east of town, mostly burnt to the ground. I used to live there, and if it's not too much trouble, I'd like to retrieve something I left there when I was a child." He shrugs.

"Call it a memento?"

Jonathan Burr
 
Hob laughed, a disarmingly horrific sound. It was a bit like someone attempting to drown a small animal in molasses. He leaned down to look at the boy closer. “I’m a pooka, boy. I grant magic to Jon in exchange for his entertainment and servitude. When I want it, anyway. I find it’s a lot more amusing to follow him around watching him pick up strays.” Hob told him.

“I don’t always pick up people. Just people who need me.” Jon smirked. “We’ve got to be north of here at a noble’s estate in two days. I figured this was a good spot to stop for supplies before we headed out. We can stop at your cabin.”

“This woman is paying us a lot of gold, or I should say Jonathan a lot of gold, for his performances. Meaning you are going to need to clean up.”

“I concur with the rabbit, kid, we’re going to have to get you a bath and a decent set of clothes.” Jon agreed. “Maybe a haircut. Where’s the nearest inn?”

Varys
 
Varys winced at the grotesque emission of sound from the 'pooka'. He'd certainly never heard of such an abomination, and he wouldn't have minded it staying that way. "So I'm far from the first then, I take it? What's the average turnaround on employees of his?" He asked rather sarcastically. Looking down at his soiled jacket and worn pants, he begrudgingly conceded the fact that he didn't look the part.

The nearest inn was the Iron Swine, a paltry few minutes from where they'd met. Leading them there, he spent the short trip in his own mind, otherwise quite silent. There was a part of him that dreaded saying goodbye to the only lifestyle he'd ever known. Sure, it wasn't a good way to live, but it was what he'd had. Maybe this move was the start of something better for him. He tried to keep that in mind as the bell attached to the door of the inn rang and brought him out of his stupor.

The elf at the desk seemed to recognize Varys, and eyed him with obvious disdain. He crossed his arms and began to speak before Varys could even approach the desk.

"Get lost Varys. You still owe me one-hundred and thirty, and I'm not letting you put it off another night. Pay me, or find another innkeeper to scam, rat."

Jonathan Burr
 
Jonathan chuckled, and Hob picked up the wagon tongue so they could get moving. Jonathan preferred to walk and talk anyway; he’d never been good at keeping still. “Hey, I try not to judge. What Hob is referring to is the place I used to run. It was eh, like a halfway house for fae and other magical creatures. You contributed to the house in some way or another, and you got my protection, room, board and a job.” Jonathan explained. “People came and went as they pleased; week, month, Volker was with us for a few years as security.”

Not a lot of people die unless they either piss me off or mess with the fire flowers.

Jon nodded in agreement with Hob. “That brings me to basic rules. No fucking with the flowers. No smoking around them, no open lanterns or candles. They have to be kept clean, dry, and most importantly not lit.” Jon paused at the Iron Swine. Well, it was better than nothing and they could get the kid cleaned up. He cleared his throat and followed Varys inside. Hob would protect the wagon.

They were immediately accosted by an angry elf. Jon blinked, and looked at his new apprentice. Seems he was already making an impression. “Hold up, the kid’s my apprentice. If he’s damaged anything, I can help.” He told the elf. “One hundred and thirty is no problem, but I’m a fairly skilled transmuter. If it’s something broken that’s your issue, I’m fairly certain I can repair it. Never mind this ruffian, I’m here to clean him up and get him out of town.” Jon tugged Varys under an arm and ruffled his hair. He grinned at the elf. “Help me get the idiot into a bath and there’s more gold in it for you.”

Varys
 
If looks could kill, the glare that the younger man shot up at Jonathan would have been charged with crimes against humanity. He pulls away from his grip and holds the sleeve of his jacket defensively. Jon's words did seem to appease the angry innkeeper, however. "You're taking Varys on as an apprentice?" He repeated back to Jonathan slowly, seeking confirmation. He appeared to bite the inside of his cheek as he spoke, "I... have to question your taste, sir. However, if you're willing to pay what he owes then I won't charge him for the bath. Frankly I should be paying you for getting him out of my hair."

A loud thud from Varys' boot colliding with the counter interrupts the discussion, and the elf stepped forward, smoothing his hair back with a scowl on his face. "You're not so gutless when there's somebody bigger than an elf here, Har'od." The older elf looks at Jon as if to rest his case. He gestures to the hall way behind him, with a nod. "Third door, on the right side. You know where it is." Varys looks back at Jonathan before heading out of the lobby to clean up.

He resented how high and mighty elves tended to be. There wasn't a single one of his kind who didn't seem to have some stigma about him just because he lived on the lam, and it was definitely partially to blame for the scorn he seemed to show towards everybody else. He knew this, but he couldn't bring himself to change his mindset.

Hopefully, he reflected as he sank into the scalding waters, leaving home with this man and monster would bring him some form of peace.

Jonathan Burr
 
“Hey hey! Easy, kiddo.” Jonathan patted Varys’ shoulder and counted out the coin for the innkeeper. He steered the young man down the hallway and away from another argument, shooing him into the room. Jon’s was right next door. There was a small uproar from the stables as Hob pulled the wagon in, and Jon threw open his room’s window. “No eating any horses!” He called down.

You people and your prancing little idiots. Hob sniffed in reply, coming out of the stable. Which room am I in?

“The kid. I’m enjoying a night where I don’t have to share your bathwater please and thank you.” Jon chuckled, and shut the window. It was also to make sure the apprentice he hadn’t just spent a hundred gold on didn’t run off. Hob eyed the window to Varys’ room, and climbed up the side of the building. He slithered between the glass panes, collapsing his body like a demented rug. He reformed himself on the floor and grinned at Varys in the bath.

Guess we’re sharing a room, sweet cheeks.

There was a pounding on the wall.

And no harassing him! Not everyone’s as weird as those girls in Alliria!” Jon’s muffled voice called. Hob rolled his yellow eyes and sat on the bed.

Varys
 
One would think Varys would panic, or at least jump, when hearing Hob as he joined him in such an otherworldly manner. If Hob had frightened him though, he wasn't showing it. He lounged in the water, his body limp in the mid-sized tub as his muscles seemed to unwind as though they'd been tangled for ages. Not looking towards the creatures voice, he speaks to the ceiling. "What, does Jon think I'm going to bail now? It isn't as though I have anywhere to go."

He rises out of the bath, stepping out and using the provided towel to dry himself, scrubbing any remaining grime off of his shoulders with a rough swiping motion. His filth wasn't by choice, he'd just been having a slow month. His bare feet make little sound against the floor as he walks around the partition separating the bath from the bed area, tossing the damp cloth on the floor and opening the small dresser adjacent from the door.

"We're leaving first thing tomorrow then, Hob? I certainly don't wish to remain here longer than I have to." He spoke informally to the beast as he dressed himself for rest. "Entertainment and servitude... I believe that's what you said to me earlier. I find myself curious though as to what you really gain through your partnership with him. I doubt a being such as yourself has any need for money."

He folds the only article of clothing that remained clean, his navy blue coat, beside the bed. Eyeing up the Pooka that occupied his spot for the night, he crosses his arms.

"So what is it then? You must have some reason to travel the world?"

Jonathan Burr
 
Hob waited patiently for the elf to get out of the bath. It’s a symbiotic relationship. He told the elf, as he settled into the bathwater. As he washed, little castings of his wormy fur shed from his arms and slithered on the floor, shriveling up into blackened husks. Then, into nothing. I’m sure you won’t ditch. But after you stake a hundred gold on a boy wouldn’t you want to be sure?

He made the uncomfortable hacking noise that stood in for a laugh. Maybe you’ll figure it out as we go along. What, is traveling the world not enough? Hob got out of the bath and shook himself, fluffing up the living fur while shedding the last of the dead. What was left in the tub was a mass of uncomfortably bloated black worms breathing their last, squirming in less than an inch of water.

He flopped noisily on the bed, folding the larger pair of arms behind his head while the smaller pair rested on his stomach. And why do you want to get out of here so badly?

Varys
 
If the unholy noises coming from the bath told Varys anything, it was that he should feel blessed for the partition. Even more so, he was glad he hadn't gone with his original plan of letting his clothes soak in the tub overnight. He knew he would be receiving new garments, but he did plan to keep the ones he wore now. Maybe it was mere sentiment. "I didn't ask to be invested in. I'd have sooner left this place with some nabbed clothes and a bath in the river than pay Har'od. He's a coward of the highest degree."

Correctly assuming that Hob would be seeking to claim the bed again, Varys sat cross-legged on the floor beside his coat with his eyes closed. He wasn't a fan of secrets, but everyone had them. "For normal creatures, maybe it would be enough. I can't shake the feeling there's more to you than that."

He lets out a long sigh, opening his eyes to look up at the pooka. "I need to find out why I'm here. I came to this city with nothing but my first name and some ragged clothes. There has to be more than that out there. There has to be a reason for my being. If I do everything within my power, and it turns out I was destined to be a street urchin the whole time, then I will accept that. But I must try."

Jonathan Burr
 
Hob twisted his head upside down with a series of pops and cracks, lazily leaning his neck over so he could look at the boy without having to be upside down. Humans and elves have the same meaning. To eat, to mate, produce young, and die. I see why Jon picked you up. He’s got the same weird preoccupation with deeper meaning. Of course he finds meaning in picking up folks like you. The lost, the broken, the dangerous. He gestured vaguely. Find a mate and enjoy your existence. Any deeper meaning you’re meant to find will find you first.

Hob smirked. You have your secrets too. Everyone is looking for something. For Jon it’s a moral mission to fix the broken. For me it’s experiencing everything mortals get to. What is it then for you? What’s your big reason for leaving? It’s not all wanderlust or you’d have chosen your own skin over shacking up with us.

Hob! You better not be hogging the bed!”

The pooka rolled his eyes and got up, laying back down on the floor. Sometimes I hate being bound to someone.
Varys
 
He resented the comparison to Jonathan, and yet knew that if Hob was making it, it was likely based in some truth. If Jon indeed only scooped him from the street based on some compulsive need to mend Varys, then this partnership wouldn't last long. Leaning back, he rests against the wall and ponders the pooka's words. "You're technically not wrong. I know that all lives hold the same base meanings. I resent them though. I have no interest in being happy with not knowing why I'm here. I won't just shack up with some scrubber and hope my offspring turn out better than I did."

He shakes his head, and trains his eyes on Hob as he slides off of the bed. A brief look of disgust crosses his features. "I've seen too much of what that fur of yours can do to even consider laying in that bed now. You take it." He slides his coat back, using it as a cushion for his head, and his jacket, still soiled but cleaner than before thanks to a quick scrub in the bath, worked fine enough as a blanket.

"I didn't have a mother."

He speaks as he lies down, not to Hob in particular, but to nobody.

"The first thing I remember is my father poking and prodding at my body, and burning marks into my neck. I spent my entire childhood without being spoken to. Instead I was taught by instructors he would bring in. He would stare at me for hours, writing notes. It's as if I was nothing more than an experiment. For what?"

Jonathan Burr
 
See now that is far more interesting than I would have thought. And no, Jon isn’t picking you up to fix you. If he taught a possessed maniac how to better himself, I think that’s the goal with you. Hob smirked and fixed his neck with a crack, hopping into bed with a victorious look at Varys. Your father made you for a reason then if you didn’t just pop out of a vagina like every other creature. Have any talents with magic? Jonathan’s naturally talented; could be interesting to try. Trust me, get him started on it and he won’t shut up.

Hob snickered. You could just enjoy female company, you know. Or male company. Some people like whatever lies in between. Why do you think I’m in such high demand? Not telling you to go get married. I’m telling you you’re not worried about where your next meal is for a while...so go cum in something and relax.

The pooka shut his eyes and crossed his ears over them, his muzzle and impressive teeth jutting out from between them. After a few minutes unholy snoring set in. It sounded like someone was trying to move a gate with a millstone, punctuated by soft snores from next door coming through the walls.

The next morning Hob had vanished. Jon rapped his knuckles on the door and peeked in to look at Varys. “Hob’s balls deep in the chambermaid, so I’m guessing we’re getting you some clothes here.” Jon said. “If you tell me what your measurements are, roundabouts, I’ll nip out and get them.”

Varys
 
It hadn't been a fun night. Between Hob's vulgar attempt to cheer him up and the ungoldy snoring sounds that filled the room, Varys had given up on sleep. He'd pushed himself back to a sitting position and allowed himself to sink into his own thoughts. The questions that Hob had asked him did hold some merit, and that was why Varys needed to leave. He needed to find the answers to why he'd been brought into the world on his own.

He didn't pay much attention to anything else the creature said. His urging him towards a more base means of release would fall on deaf ears when said to Varys. Sure, occasionally a rather attractive female elf would catch his eye, but he didn't care about pleasures of the flesh. Odds are he'd grow tired of dealing with a woman before laying a finger on her.

When Jonathan's knock broke him from his hours long ponderance, he would look up at the man. A churning sensation crosses over his guts as he imagines the snotty barmaid that he'd never wanted to do anything to but lock outside the building enjoying the company of something like Hob. "Some people have such low standards... I honestly don't know how you tolerate him, Jon." Whatever they got out of each other's presence must have been hard to come across.

He takes his coat and tosses it to Jon. "Just go off of that. Don't trash it though, It's important."

Jonathan Burr
 
Jon laughed. “Well let’s just say he’s a bit of a wild card. Don’t worry about him.” He snatched the jacket out of the air and gave a mock salute. “Don’t worry. I’ll have it back safe and sound. Here. Get some breakfast downstairs. I’ll join up with you in a bit.” He set ten gold down on a dresser just inside the door and shut it, letting Varys get himself ready for the day. He passed by the coat closet, shaking his head at the loud cries coming from inside. Out of all the sensations Hob had wanted to experience, he could guess the pooka’s favorite.

Jonathan bought three new shirts for Varys, and three pairs of sturdy traveling pants. A new pair of leather boots, and a nicer set of clothing for performances. A decent white linen shirt, paired with a black vest and trousers. The elf would clean up well. He set the packages back in the wagon and went to knock on the coat closet door of the inn. A jelly legged barmaid, red as a cup of wine and rearranging her clothing, stumbled out before he could knock.

You know, you’d think the four arms would be too frightening. Hob chuckled, stretching himself. He went to find Varys, nicking a piece of fruit from a confused patron’s plate. To anyone else the Orange looked like it just...got up and floated away.

Well, I’m guessing we’re headed to your cabin to grab a piece of your father’s mystery, am I right? Hob grinned at him and snuck a hand forward to steal a bit of his breakfast.

Varys