Private Tales Melancholy Dreams

[Gavin Blackfyre]

She was little more then a husk, a shadow of her former glory. In her hay day, patrons traveled from afar to pay tribute to the many experts who resided there. At one time, this proud three story building was a temple of pleasure, causing many to blush at the mere mention of the famed Captain's Quarters. Calling it a brothel would have been a disservice to the many men and woman who employed their craft there as trained courtesans.

One above all shined brightly in her chosen profession. There were no words to describe her beauty in the common tongue. Her appearance was ever changing as well. One day a fiery red head, the next, a golden blonde. Her skills were unmatched, able to knead out the tightest knot or squeeze the trading secretes from even the most tight lip merchant. She was charming and funny and truth be told, what ever the occasions called for. Above all, she was caring, and that was not a facade. She did care for her clients but above all, she cared for the people of Alliria no matter their past.

This, was a house of pleasure however, where the wealthy sort out the comforts and delights one could only dream of. In one time, this section of the docks had been known for it's wealth, drawing in local merchants, artisans, and foreign nobility from afar to fill it's streets. The less fortunate also showed up here, hoping for the aid of the master courtesan with a warm heart. That was a decade ago, before the flames reshaped the district.

Proven to be to costly a venture to rebuild, a lackluster effort was given to restore the area to make it habitable for lower income families. Not truly part of the Outer City, the small area was more akin to being like the Areck slums in terms of appearance. It was simply a section that both person and time forgot, playing refuge to some of the city's less desirables in terms of people and practices.

Like many of the buildings that have been left standing after the mysterious blaze took hold some ten years ago, gone was the once beautiful gilded facade of the Captain's Quarters, a proud building which shun brightly in the sun thanks to a reflective pearl paint that cost more then some spent on their house holds in a year. Though years had passed, the outside walls were still covered in blacken soot, giving the building a very warn down appearance. The inside fared better at least, it's current owner seeing to it's upkeep. It's grandiose rooms had been converted to small apartments and saw to the housing of those who once worked there or their surviving families. It was his meager attempt at penance for his past crimes that saw the rebirth of this den of pleasure and parties. It was also a stark reminder of his failure and unwillingness to let go. The Captain's Quarters was his anchor to a past he both hated and adored and would forever be his moral compass. No matter how far he strayed, he would always return it seemed.

This night was no different regarding his return... And much like past nights, he would return bloodied. His steps up to his apartment door on the third floor were heavy and labored, the ship captain favoring his right side as he was sure his knee was bruised and perhaps swelling at that very moment. That was the least of his worries, being that the drops of blood that fell from his fingertips left a trail of crimson in his wake and needed his immediate attention thanks to the gash on his left arm just below his shoulder. Gavin had had a night it seemed.

Fumbling with his keys, he swore in a low voice as he finally fished the correct one from his ring and opened the door. Three steps into the darkness and he would pause, taking stock of the room before him. His apartment had always been simple as the quarters in ship, the Roci, where were he stored his creature comforts. That was his personal space. This was simply a dwelling for when he was land locked. The apartment's layout was simple, opening up to a small living space where a couch and table were kept, on the off chance he had company. Beyond that was a desk that sat beside the large window that over looked the docks below. To the left was a tiny kitchen to fix meals and beside that his privy. To the right was his small bedroom.

The apartment itself was kept neat but looked barren. No pictures adorned the walls and there was a strong absence of personal effects, save for the two chests in his room which housed clothing and arms. At most, the desk in the corner beside the window had the privilege of serving as the throne for a ink pot and quill, parchment, and his decanter of whiskey. There was a smaller chest that sat there as well, but that was locked with it's contents kept from view.

Gavin looked about slowly, swaying slightly, from exhaustion or perhaps blood loss, before returning his keys to his pocket and closing the door behind him. The bolt behind him locked the door, a brilliant design from a dwarven smith that ensured he didn't have to worry about doing it himself. His string of swears continued as he took notice on his hand and moved to produce a kerchief from another pocket. He then used the piece of dark fabric to clean his hand as best as he could to at least stop the drops of blood from falling. Mumbling to himself as he ventured into the kitchen, he was there for a moment before returning to the living space with three glasses and a rag.

Tired steps were taken to the desk where the glasses were set down along side the rag he simply dropped in a unceremonious fashion. He then removed the top from the decanter and poured three glasses, two fingers each of the amber colored whiskey. With a sigh, he would slowly reach up, his right hand posed in a fashion to hint that he intended on picking up something that required care between his index finger and thumb. It was a practiced motion as he had performed this numerous times, plucking his false eye from cavity in his face with quick yet tender precision. He then dropped the eye into one of the glasses of whiskey.

He stood there for a moment, staring down with his one good eye at the remaining two glasses as if he was contemplating what to do next. Such a odd sight he should have presented in the darkness. His back to the near empty room, a silhouette against the pale moonlight that showered in from the window, fighting to stand still and failing against his current injuries. In better light one could see his dark over coat was stained with grit, mud, and blood. Some his own, most not. He smelled of sweat and the coppery tinge of blood, an alarming perfume. His long hair framed his face in a slick wavy fashion, supporting the truth he had been worked out enough to perspire.

"You know..." His voice cut through the silence, suddenly and alarming. "I have come to rely on my sense of smell a great deal... In my younger days I was trained to appreciate the skill a well honed nose could serve. If you paid close attention you could smell horse sweat down wind way before the song of their hooves filled your ears... Hell, surrounded in pine forest, you can smell the musk of man as they hunted you.... Here by the docks... That is a different scent all together... The smell of this brackish water coupled with shit...Fish and horse dung... Takes someone with a strong stomach to live here I guess.. Least that's what I first thought... What I'm getting at... Is despite such pleasant fragrant staining the air.... There is one note I couldn't help but ignore... Your leather...."

He was aware that in his sparse apartment, he was not alone. Sighing as he undid his sword belt, he allowed the two short scimitars he used that night to fall to the wooden floor in a loud thump that echoed against the bare walls. He then retrieved his eye patch from his pocket and wrestled with it to get it into place over his right eye. With that done, he slumped into his chair and reached for his glass.

"If you came for a fight... I'm afraid I'm spent for the night.. Allow me this moment of respite and I promise to be a better show tomorrow... Otherwise leave me in peace... Or drink... Your choice..." Gavin motioned to the extra drink he had poured, the thick glass standing there waiting to be claimed.

Kestrel

 

[Kestrel]

For a long moment, the silence stretched out in the small room. A less-confident man might have even been concerned that he was mistaken, that he’d made such a proclamation to a truly empty room, that there was only his imagination to blame for the telltale smell…

… until, suddenly, she was there, leaning against the far wall; there was no shimmer of magic or grandiose show to herald the fading of the magic that had cloaked her. There was only blank wall one second, then the next, she was as obvious as if she’d been standing there all along, her long black cloak obscuring much of her except for her bright purple eyes and the slightly-curved dagger she had in one hand. It was the motion of the dagger that had broken her concealment, tossing it in a quick arc to catch the tip, another tossing bringing its handle back into her palm. It was a nervous gesture, though outwardly there was nothing to betray that. Her entire body was humming with the tension of the night, with every sense in her body screaming at her to run and to run fast, and it needed an outlet. She, however, needed to focus on the man in front of her. A man she didn’t need someone to tell her would require her full concentration.

“I rather think I resent the insinuation I smell,” she replied, her voice light and amused. Easy-going, as if she hadn’t just appeared in his apartment uninvited. Or, you know, broken in while armed with two very large daggers (at the very least). There was no sign of how exactly she’d gotten in, but there was also no sign that she’d rifled through or taken anything. She wasn’t actually here to steal anything. She’d done enough thieving for the night, and the dawn would tell if she’d finally, this time, gone too far. Stuck her half-tips in where they didn’t belong one last time, as Drendor had always mused she would, half-threat, half-promise in his voice.

“You look like someone who forgot that orcs don’t like hugs. Normal, for you?”

Her eyes flicked to the drink, but she didn’t move to take it. She hadn’t made it this far without realizing that all gifts came with strings attached.

An owl hooted, somewhere in the murky darkness out beyond his window, and she paused in her knife-flicking, straining her ears to hear the response. It wasn’t uncommon for the gangs and syndicates that ran in this area and the rest of the Shallows to have a whole language known only to their own members, one created to avoid the notice of most normal folk not involved in the more... clandestine activities of the area. He was likely familiar. Apparently, so also was she.

Whatever she’d heard seemed to have spurned her to action. She pushed away from the wall, just a step, keeping out of arm’s reach as she leveled the tip of the dagger towards him. The moonlight coursed along its razored edge, casting sharp glints of light like broken glass along the ceiling.

“Where is she? The woman who lives here? The one with laughter like the sunshine and steel in her eyes? I’m here to see her -- not some washed-up pirate run aground. Fetch her immediately or tell me where I can find her.”

No, no, that wouldn’t do. She was so used to doing things the way they did in the Family, she forgot that this place wasn’t like this. At least, not how she remembered it. So, with effort, against her learned instincts and self-preservation, she dropped the tip of the dagger, clearing her throat, and adding a soft single word -- “... please.”

 

[Gavin Blackfyre]

If her sudden appearance caused Gavin any alarm, he did well to conceal it. Instead, he shifted in his seat, a soundless chuckle sending his head back in in a tired cant thanks to her comment about hugging orcs. True enough he did hold the appearance of someone who had a long night. Judging by her arrival, it was sure to be longer.

Glass now in hand, his gazed shifted from the intruder to his whiskey, tongue moving along his dry lips to moisten them before he indulged in a quick sip. He listened to her following words, the mention of the past tenant catching his attention. It was a quick glance, eye shifting up to the thief before he looked back to his glass. Her appearance didn't stir anything with in him nor did her veiled threat in pointing her dagger, but the mention of Tivina seemed to take hold of his attention.

Savoring his drink was a pleasure he would not be afforded it seemed. Downing the whiskey, he winced as it burned his throat in the best of ways. Silence stretched between them as he shifted once more in his seat, placing the glass down and reaching for the small chest. He pulled it forward, the sound of the action the only noise that filled the room. Flipping the latch up, he opened the lid to reveal the contents. Medical supplies. Returning home in such a state was normal for him it seemed.

"Your one of her strays aren't you?" He spoke suddenly, voice low and guttural. "She did love her strays...." His gaze shifted up once more but his eye was different. Glazed over... Sorrowful. "No shame in admitting such.. I was a stray of hers as well... She had a thing for helping the downtrodden after all..." He motioned to the glass he had poured for her once more. If she refused to drink, he already had plans to claim it. For now, he went about removing his over coat, pausing in pain when it came time to lift his wounded arm from the sleeve. His movements were stiff and leaden but he managed, a low growl one of the few clues he was in pain. Besides that, he stomached in well.

"Like all good things here.. She's gone... Dead some ten years now... Forget any rumors you have heard about her escaping the fires that took this district... At the notion she is on some grand adventure... Living a better life... She's long dead and was given a final resting place at sea...I should know, I saw to it myself."

And there it was, her question answered. This was not the first time someone came around to ask for Tivina. She had helped so many in the course of her life it was only natural some would return to say thanks and others to ask for more favors. He had lived this moment hundreds of times over... It never got any easier.

Satisfied with his part, he looked to the window, another hoot gaining his attention. The gangs were very active this night. Turning away, he focused his gaze on the box and it's contents, setting up a small candle and removing other items, such as a needle already threaded with catgut, a small vile on green liquid, a jar of amber colored poulticed, and bandages. Gavin then pinched the candle wick between his index and thumb, causing it to catch fire, how, a guarded secret of his.The room was awash in a warm golden glow the revealed his state in full detail. Apparently a white shirt had been worn beneath the over coat, a shirt which was stained red mostly on his left side. His arm sported a nasty gash, the product of a sharp blade the parted cloth and flesh easily enough. He chuckled ironically at this, knowing it would heal and add to a collection of scars he already wore. When had he become this washed up pirate? Hopefully, what ever his visitor had planned, he'd be given a chance to tend to his arm of course.

 

[Kestrel]

The silence after her declaration stretched out between them, hanging heavy and thick in the otherwise barren room. Full of everything that wasn’t being said -- though plenty of that was visible for her to see. Living on the streets as she had, for practically her whole life, she’d gotten pretty good at reading people. Certainly not the level of skill her sister Petra had, but Kes wasn’t entirely sure Petra wasn’t skilled in the way Kestrel herself was skilled in hiding..

Still, he knew who she was talking about. That much was obvious. So she waited, and watched, and… he moved towards the chest on the desk, an action that made her grip her dagger a bit more firmly. Out of respect to the woman who’d saved her, Kes had kept her wandering fingers to herself… something that she was certainly regretting right now, since she had no idea what was in store. But she waited, not moving beyond where she was already standing, and a moment later the contents were revealed to be the least of her concerns.

It was hardly given a second, though, because then he was speaking, and almost instantly any thought of fighting was gone from her mind.

Was. Did. Dead. Ten years.

She stepped back from him, from what he was saying, as if the distance would prove him a liar, as if into the space the woman with the warm smile and the quiet strength would suddenly appear.

“No -- No, I’ve sent people here -- they got help --”

Her objections died on her lips as the most obvious answer presented itself: it wasn’t the woman she remembered who’d helped those who’d needed it. She didn’t wonder further than that, about who might have helped them, whether it was this man or another who dwelt in this house. It didn’t matter. In her mind, it was straightforward. The one she’d come to for help wasn’t here. Therefore, there was no help to be offered in this place.

Another hoot crawled through the air and she took a step backwards, out of the square of moonlight that spilled across the worn floor and further into the shadows. They hadn’t found her, not yet. But they were looking, and they knew she knew they were looking. Even worse, judging from what little Kestrel knew and what she’d pieced together so far, she rather doubted they’d stop looking, not after what she'd taken from Drendor. The whole Family was out in force, and her one hope, her one avenue of escape, was gone. She truly was alone in this.

All of that sudden, that drink was looking mighty fine.

She stepped close to him, watching him warily with those amethyst eyes, just enough to grab the glass. Immediately, she retreated back across the room, especially as candelight warmed the area around him. It was best for both of them if she stayed out of sight in the shadows. He didn’t really look ready for a round two, which was exactly what would happen if they spotted her. Swirling the liquid in the glass once, she tossed it back, downing the entirety of the glass in one go. It burned. All the way down. A momentary distraction as she watched him set about stitching himself up.

“Gonna scar,” she noted, as she leaned back against the wall once more. Calm and just a little be amused, though underneath the bravado was a sharp, nervous energy. After all, he’d just told her her plan to survive the night was as good as failed. “Another one to spin a good yarn about later? Or do you washed-up pirate types spin a good sea shanty instead?”

Empty glass in hand, she began to flick it end over end, now, her sharp gaze straying towards the window and what little of the rooftops she could see beyond. She didn’t know her next step. She didn’t like that feeling, didn’t like the realization that for ten plus years she’d had this imaginary “out” that was just that -- nothing but a half-promise blown away on a breeze. Or, in this case, burned to ash and dust.

Unsurprising, once again she'd been left by herself to try and figure out how not to die. She spun the glass in the air in front of her once more, the soft smack of it into her palm as her fingers closed around it.

“I’ll be gone as soon as the clouds roll in. Should be soon… hopefully.” Underneath her cloak, her other hand tightened on her dagger.

 

[Gavin Blackfyre]

“No -- No, I’ve sent people here -- they got help --”

Her response got to him. There was a distinct sense of defeat that caused him to really look at her and take scope of the person who stood there. She was nervous, that much was clear, and the way her gaze was drawn to the window suggested a sense of urgency. The gangs seemed to be on the hunt tonight at he had good reason to believe she was tied into that somehow. His gaze took stock of her appearance and in particular her dagger. A short bladed weapon she seemed proficient in using going off of how comfortable she felt in balancing it. Plus it didn't take a genius to see she had clearly broken into his apartment. He had yet to venture into the privy or his bedroom but he suspected he would not find any broken glass from his windows. Meaning she picked a lock to gain entry. A thief then... He smiled at his deduction, having a clue as to why she was there now. People only cared for thieves when something had been stolen or when something was in need of stealing.

His gaze followed her as she took the aforementioned drink and retreated, ever so cautious. Careful this one.... He mused as he tended to his arm. The sound of fabric being torn away cut through the space as he did away with his sleeve and moved on to cleaning the wound. Taking the vile in hand, the cork was removed and the liquid poured into the gash. If it stung, she wouldn't know as he had little reaction to it. The wound began to bubble, foaming as the liquid set to work disinfecting. Next, he removed the top from the jar and smeared the amber substance generously. It had a thick earthy smell hinting at possible plant ingredients used in it's concocting. It was neither bad nor pleasant truth be told. By the time she mulled over his words and spoke against, he was already stitching the wound closed with a practiced hand.

"They always do... And no... No story or sea shanty about this night..." He said in response to the wound leaving a scar behind, deflective on what had happened. Thankfully the wound had not been as deep as he first thought and the poultice staunched the bleeding quickly. Last stitch applied, he looked to her then to the remaining cord as if asking for her help in cutting it.

"May take a few hours for those clouds to roll in... In the mean time, I'm going to get cleaned up... You JUST smell of leather... My perfume is a whole other story." He circled back to her comment about him saying she smelled. "Then we're going to eat and talk about this mess you got yourself into... She's not around to help anyone so I try my best to pick up the slack."

 

[Kestrel]

Kes had to admit, watching him just casually stitching himself up made her just a tiiiiitch queasy. It wasn’t like she hadn’t been injured, especially in her line of, um, work, or that she hadn’t seen others injured that badly or worse, but they had dedicated healers in the Family for a reason.

Especially when he looked at her, then the string, and she didn’t need to have Petra’s gift to figure out what he wanted from her.

Crossing the room once more, she set the empty glass down on the table with one hand, the other appearing from underneath the cloak with the dagger still in her grip. In a flick of a movement almost too fast to follow, she used the very tip of it to slice the aforementioned stitching, the razor-sharp blade severing the small string as if it were nothing. Her role completed in his home-care, she dropped her hand underneath the fabric of her cloak once more -- dagger remaining in-hand, as evidenced by the empty sheath on her back. At least she didn’t seem to be intent on menacing him with it anymore.

“I’m not in a ‘mess’,” she responded, somewhere between believing those words and needing to believe them to be true. “I’m just in a… slightly unforeseen predicament. Don’t worry your pretty little eye about it.”

She flicked the empty glass with her finger, making it rock as if to emphasize her words, before snatching it up before it could totter off the edge and fall to break. Turning on her heel, she regained the safety of distance once more, this time strolling towards the small food prep area.

“No to the help, no to the talking, yes to you bathing -- sorry, you do stink -- aaaaand … Yes to another drink. What else have you got?”

Under the pretense of her quest, she reached out and jerked the shade across the small window above the sink, giving her one less avenue of sight into the apartment to be concerned about. There hadn’t been a noise or an indication of the “owl” outside in several minutes… which didn’t necessarily mean anything. They might already know where she was and simply were waiting for her to be alone. Or they might have moved further in, still looking for her. Only time would tell, and she had to prepare for both.

 

[Gavin Blackfyre]

"Just saying... You came here looking for help..." He reminded her as she moved to his small kitchen leaving him to stare at his stitching job. Wasn't the straightest he'd done but it would heal nice enough.

Getting up with a groan, he took his coat and hobbled to the bathroom, pausing at the entrance to speak. "Small cupboard left to the window... A bottle of spice rum... I you do get hungry there should be something under the cloth on the table."

With that, he vanished into the bathroom, door closing behind him.

True to his words there was something left on the small table in the kitchen just under a cloth cover. If she chose to inspect it, she'd find a pie of some some, dried strips of cured meat, cheese, and a apple. Beside it was a note that simply read, By the time you return your dinner will be cold much like your bath... J

As promised, the bath that had been set for him was indeed cold by the time he arrived. Stripped of his dirty clothing, Gavin made sure to place everything into a sheepskin bag that sat in the corner of the room, then stepped into the bath. Cold as it was, he paid little heed to it, he had braved colder water after all, and besides he was surely distracted this night. Setting upon himself with a bar of soap, he vigorously cleaned his body and hair as it seemed her comment about stinking did get to him. Gone was the stench of battle as he welcomed in the woody oak like scent of the soap.

"Can't argue with the truth..." He mumbled to himself as he finished up. Claiming a small towel, he dried himself best he could with the use of one arm before dressing in that black linen shirt and trousers that were left behind by his apparent care taker. Who ever this J was, they seemed to take care of the washed up pirate in some capacity. Removing the stopper from the plain brass bathtub, he watched as the grit and gore vanished down the drain, a ring of filth staining the sides of the tub. He'd clean that later.

Exiting the bathroom, he returned to the living space, each step tender as he know knew with out a doubt he had a sizable knot on his knee, before claiming his spot at his desk. He would rub the substance from the small tub on one more time, applying a final coat before wrapping his arm. His wounds saw to, he put the items away, returned the chest to it's spot and poured himself another glass of whiskey.

"You got a name?" He said, realizing they had not been formally introduced.

 

[Kestrel]

Kes’s eyes flicked back to him as he reminded her of why she’d come in the first place -- earning him an annoyed scrunch of her nose -- then issued instructions on where to find rum and food.

The half-elf wasted no time in finding said rum, helping herself to another full glass as he disappeared into the other room. Swirling the amber liquid around until it nearly sloshed, she pinched the fabric on the table between two fingers, lifting it just enough to see what was underneath before dropping it. He’d left the candle flickering away cheerily on his desk, casting most of the room into a murky half-lit state. Not enough to reveal the details, but from what she could discern, there wasn’t much in the way of details to be seen… no personal effects, no momentos, no pictures… nothing to show that he actually lived here.

Whatever was rooting him here wasn’t enough to overcome how much he didn’t want to be, then. She understood that, well enough.

Taking a gulp of the rum, she glanced down at the plate once more. Shrugging one shoulder, she claimed the piece of pie -- something fruity and delicious and a luxury that she couldn’t remember the last time she’d indulged in. Normally, she wouldn’t have even touched the food, but the man hadn’t known she was coming and she rather doubted he’d just have fresh, delicious, poisoned food sitting around on the off-chance he’d get an unexpected visitor that he wanted to kill, or whatever.

Besides, there was a high chance she’d be dead by tomorrow evening. Might as well live dangerously.

By the time he returned to the main room, the thief had already made herself comfortable -- seated on the floor against the wall, dagger in hand and back to its sharp-flicking arcs, over and over again, casting glinting silver shards across the floor and walls as she did so. She’d drawn the shutters across the window, leaving the only source of light the small candle he’d already lit. It was all right by her, she was used to working in near-darkness. It was a comfortable cloak for her.

She’d pulled her hood back, revealing her young face, tousled black hair, and heritage-betraying slightly tipped ears. Her garb, including her leather armor, was all well-worn though also meticulously cared for -- she didn’t have much to her name, well, really anything to her name, but what little she did have she tried to make last. Perhaps the only thing that seemed to be of high value and high quality on her entire person were the pair of daggers that she carried, the only visible weapon on her.

His question made her arch her eyebrows as she watched him dress his wound.

“I do,” was her response to his question of whether she had a name or not… and for a moment, it seemed like that would be all she volunteered. Her lips pressed tightly together, before she sighed and leaned her head back again, closing her eyes. “Kestrel. Kes, if you’re feeling particularly fond. Though you’d best not remember that tomorrow when they start asking ‘round for me.” She flicked her fingers dismissively at the window, obviously indicating whomever was searching for her.

“You? Or do you just go by ‘Cap’n’? I’m disappointed to see you have both legs, I thought a peg on one was a requirement. Or does the eye count as your obligatory wooden appendage? I don’t know how this stuff works.”

 

[Gavin Blackfyre]

"Kestrel...." He said her name slowly, pondering if the name had come up before in past conversation. Moving pass the momentary pause, he sipped from his refilled glass.

"Cap'n to my crew... You can call me Gavin however." He offered his first name. What he hadn't offered was his proper title, Captain Gavin Blackfyre of the warship Rocinante or the list of titles and silly monikers he had been given through out the years. Scourge of the Cortosi Coast, Twin Blade of the Reach, the Black Bolt, the One Eyed Dread, the Drunk Strategist (a particular favorite), and the Great Anirian Traitor to name a few.

"And yes... The loss of an eye does count luckily enough so no need for a peg leg... I couldn't phantom a life with out dancing after all." He mused before deciding to push further, playing on her ignorance. "I did recently apply for a licence to adopt a parrot or monkey though... Very excited for that to come through."

His delivery was dead pan but even in the darkness she should be able to make out the small grin that played against his tired face.

 

[Kestrel]

Kes raised her glass to her lips, pausing when he introduced himself as ‘cap’n’ and then the more believable ‘Gavin’. Oh ho, so now he was getting all smart with her, returning her playful banter and… then pushing it even further. She didn’t know much of anything about pirates or searfaring life (not that she really thought he was a captain at all, honestly), but that didn’t matter once she caught sight of that telltale grin on his face.

She let out a soft snort of laughter half into the liquid in her glass, taking another sip before setting it on the ground to the side. There was amusement in those bright amethyst eyes of hers, the slight tug of a smile hovering around her lips as she leaned back against the wall once more. The constant flicking of her dagger had stilled, for the moment, though it was still in hand. Distracted and entertained by his unexpected wit and humor, as it were.

“All right then, Cap. I'd go with the monkey. Parrots shit all over and scream for no reason,” was her helpful suggestion, eyes drifting to the shuttered window as if she couldn’t quite let herself forget the situation she’d found herself in.

“Not gonna be doin’ much in the way of dancing for a few days, anyway, not with whatever knock you took to your knee.” She arched her eyebrows pointedly, shifting slightly so she was more comfortable as she regarded the man in front of her. This was the next puzzle to figure out -- whether or not he was who he said he was, and what the price of his involvement would be. She had no doubt he was lying to her about something -- everyone lied, whether they wanted to admit that to themselves or not -- it was just figuring out exactly what and how much it’d cost her.

“All right, then. It’s too bright for me to go anywhere and your place is boring. Tell me about that nonsense.” She gestured with the tip of her knife, indicating the wound that he’d already stitched up. “You instigate it or just end it?”

 

[Gavin Blackfyre]

He wished he could take full credit for her laugh but knew in truth he had to thank his two former teachers for that disarming tactic. Humor had a way of calming someone down and he saw her shift in mood beginning to change. He motioned to the empty couch, showing she could sit if she wanted to.

"Don't let the limp fool you, I can still move if I need to... And yes... I suppose I did instigate." He held a quizzical expression on his face as the thought settled in and he drained the last of his whiskey. His hand hovered over the decanter, the thought of another glass coming to mind but instead he pushed it away to join the chest.

"I wasn't always the tired old pirate you see now." He joked as he eased into his seat. In truth, he wasn't that old, only into his third decade. "In my younger years I sailed along the Cortosi Coast hunting down Anirian privateers... As thrilling as that might sound, remember this word of advise... Vel Anir does not forget... I had the pleasure of receiving a notice from a captain I once bested... He saw fit to send swords and knives instead of kind words though... So... Care to share why you are being hunted tonight? You don't have to if you do not wish, I'll help you regardless... "

He offered an explanation for his appearance, int he barest form mind you, before offering his aid was more. Funny enough, he seemed so sure he would be able to help.

 

[Kestrel]

Kes’s amethyst eyes drifted to the couch when he gestured to it, but she gave a small, tight nod of her head to decline the invitation. Truthfully, she was comfortable where she was, back against the wall, sheltered from any potentially prying eyes by the wardrobe to her left and with a full view of just about every part of the small dwelling including the kitchen window. She might look more relaxed, but she hadn’t forgotten for a second the very real possibility that they could find her at any second. Paranoia was part of the reason she wasn't dead... yet.

He continued with his explanation, a story that left her looking at him with arched eyebrows.

“Pirate politics. That’s your explanation,” she stated, the tone of her voice sounding like she didn’t… entirely… believe him. He was, after all, sitting in what had used to be a brothel in a part of the city that wasn’t exactly known for its interaction with the shipping lanes of the less-forgotten docks further out towards the coast… though she’d teasingly called him ‘pirate’ repeatedly, it hadn’t exactly been, well, serious. She raised her glass once more, a small, amused smile tugging at the corner of her lips as she paused. “I”ll be sure to keep that in mind if I ever decide to cross swashbuckling swords with an Anirian pirate captain.”

Tossing back the rest of the rum she’d procured from his stash, she set the empty glass to the side, not moving to refill it. All she’d had for a while was that piece of pie, and she couldn’t afford to have her senses dulled. Not even when he was sitting there, offering to help.

She snorted derisively. “You don’t even know who I am or whether I’m worth helping. I’m in this mess because I stole something from a gang of thieves -- not exactly a shining example of humanity.” Flicking her dagger with one hand, she caught it by its tip and stared down at the blade, contemplating, as if looking to it for advice, before sighing. “Anyway, I can’t pay -- whatever your price is. Honestly, the smartest thing you could do is let me sleep here tonight, then tomorrow after I leave when they come looking for me, demand a pretty penny to tell them what you know.

“It’d be a win, win, for you. All you lose is some alcohol -- and a piece of pie, sorry -- and get paid nicely for it.” She smirked slightly, though there was no humor in it. It was a tight, resigned smile; after all, she knew how the world worked. There was only one person in her life that that hadn’t been true about… and she wasn’t here. Not anymore.

“Why’re you so bent on helping me, anyway? Your form of penance for failing her or something?”

 

[Gavin Blackfyre]

She hit home with her last comment and though he tried to keep a stone face there was a was a distinct narrowing of his eye. "She never needed a reason..." He said after a long pause. "I saw her help so many people... It's just who she was... And she never needed a reason..."

He would sit up, right hand rubbing at his faint beard as a chuckle slipped past and he reminded of a fond memory. "I remembered the day we met... My crew and I had been engaging Anierian privateers and their actual Navy for some time... We were young fools who thought ourselves invincible... They chased us... All the way around the Spear, through the Akiva Sea, and would have continued along the Bayou Garramarisma if it had not been for the storm we sailed into... Rogue waves, as high as the bridges connecting the city assaulted us, wind so savage it threaten to pluck my crew from the deck... By the time we limped into port, our center mast was all but gone, the hull damaged, and half the crew nearly dead, myself included... I intended to stay long enough to service our ship, resupply, and see to the injured before heading back out... She found me near dead on the docks as people walked over my body... Suppose they took me for some beggared drunk... Her though... She saw someone in need. I awoken in her care and she nursed me back to health... She saw that my people were treated for as well and we, the outsiders we were, weren't harassed... She did all this and more with out asking for anything in return... By the time I was able to stand on my own two feet I long abandoned my crusade against the Anirian ships... I was content just being close to her...."

He sighed after admitting so much but pressed on. "I'm never going to be like her... But I try when I can... She was willing to aid others and I have yet to turn away anyone she's helped before... Don't worry about payment... Despite the lack of charm this place holds, it's not because of lack of wealth on my part... So when you are ready, rest in the bedroom... I'll take the couch.. Better for having my leg propped up. In the morning I can show you the rear entrance I used to use for smuggling things into and out of the city... Sound good Kes?"

 

[Kestrel]

“Oh,” Kes said, very quietly, in the silence after his final question. She’d listened to him without interrupting, without even the constant flicking of the dagger, those sharp eyes not leaving him as he spoke. It was like a light being thrown on behind someone, setting them into sharp relief so she could see all the jagged parts that made the whole. He’d loved her, the woman who’d made this place a light, and that was why he was here. It was penance, though for what, Kes wasn’t about to ask. She rather thought that was a burden she didn’t want him to unpack in front of her, even if was as simple as ‘I lived and she didn’t’.

For a long moment, that was the only word she spoke, a furrow in her brow as she debated. Her gut reaction was to not believe any of it, to look for the indications of him lying -- because everyone lied. Constantly. But… there was a reason Kes had come here, searching for the only woman besides her mother who had ever been honest with her. And if he’d been in love with this woman, maybe… just maybe he was being honest, himself.

So, perhaps, he deserved a little bit of honesty himself.

Wordlessly, she reached up, undoing the top two ties of her shirt. Grabbing both the undershirt and the leather breastplate she wore with one hand, she tugged it down and to the side -- just enough to show the dark red, slightly raised mark on her upper right chest, right over where the strongest beat of the heart hit. A hollow circle stood in relief against a solid crescent along one side, a common depiction of the moons, Lessat and Pneria, in eclipse -- and a brand used by one of the Shallows’ more established and prolific gangs, the Crimson Moon. Primarily smugglers and purveyors of black market goods, the Crimson Moon nevertheless employed all sorts from ‘collectors’ to ‘enforcers’ and… well, thieves. All of whom had a particular reputation for not exactly being particularly kind or welcoming, especially to those outside the gang. The leader, Drendor, was somewhat of a minor aristocrat in the Shallows, ruling his “slice’ of the underbelly with a ruthless efficiency, his eyes and ears reaching far out of the Shallows and into all parts of the city itself. It was a bad idea to annoy the Crimson Moon. It was a death sentence to piss them off.

Shifting her breastplate and shirt back into place, she smiled wanly. “Oh. Trust me. They’ll already know about the smuggler’s entrance.”

Might as well lay it all out on the proverbial table, then. No use letting him get into something that he didn’t understand the scope of -- something he’d certainly not want anything to do with once he did. “I stole Drendor’s ruby necklace. The one that signifies his leadership of the Crimson Moon. Once the other gangs find out, they’ll be after it too -- having that necklace would weaken Drendor’s position as leader and give whatever gang manages to get it a huge boon.”

A sigh escaped her lips as she leaned back against the wall, suddenly looking small and tired and resigned.

“I shouldn’t have even come here. Saying it out loud -- what a selfish thing that would have been, to repay her kindness with a death sentence. I just didn’t --” she trailed off, because the rest of that sentence -- I didn’t have anywhere else to go -- was way too pathetic for her to utter. No way. Pressing her lips tightly together, she regarded him once more.

“Thanks for the offer of the bed. I’ll take that, gladly.” She pushed herself to her feet, slipping the dagger into its sheath along her back in a single smooth move. “But you should think hard about involving yourself any further. Because if you leave with me tomorrow you’ll make yourself -- and this place -- an enemy of every gang in the Shallows. I wouldn’t blame you for thinking twice and deciding not even she would help with this.” She gave him a tight, humorless smile.

 

[Gavin Blackfyre]

He watched with curiosity as she showed him the brand and listened to her tale. His momentary show of vulnerability stirred similar feelings with in her and it seemed she was sharing now as well. Armed with this new information, he reached over and fumbled with the latch on the small chest before opening the container and feeling about inside. After a moment, he fished out a vile, uncorked it, and down the dark viscous liquid in a swift motion. The end result was his face twisting in disgust and appearing rather comical as the substance he just swallowed clearly did not taste well at all. If he was going to be of use to her, he'd have to take care of the pain he was currently in.

"She dealt with far worse then a rowdy bunch of thieves, believe it or not... She would have been fine one way or another..." Gavin assured her after a moment, a sad smile worn on his face. "And there is nothing to think of... You need help.. I'm willing to help."

To him it was just that simple regardless of her warnings. "And no need to worry about this place. It was standing long before either of us were here and it will be standing long after.... You may have been too young to recall, but there's been a reason why the gangs never really rooted here..."

Was he hinting that his presence had something to do with that?

"Shame them know about my old paths underground... Afraid I haven't used them in recent years... Though I believe I have a surprise or two left to show you." He smirked. They may have known about the smugglers routes that lead to the sewers below, but Gavin did they know it as well as he did?

Climbing to his feet, he moved over to the kitchen to claim his meal, meager as it was when it dawned on him. He had offered his help. But what exactly what he would be helping with? "So.. What's the plan exactly? You looking to run? Fight?"

Regardless of what she chose, he believed he had options on hand for both choices.

 

[Kestrel]

Kes watched as he moved towards the kitchen, with that mannerism of someone who always needed to know where people were around her at all times; there wasn’t that same degree of promised sharpness in her gaze, however, so despite her alertness she seemed, well... slightly more relaxed around him. She’d put the dagger away, at least, though she was still leaning against the wall in her small corner.

His words, however, drew a soft, dry chuckle from her. “Here’s hoping you’re not wrong about those surprises…”

The only thing she could say was that this area of the Shallows was mostly a neutral territory -- the brothel wasn’t under any gang’s protection that she knew of. (A fact that, if she was to believe his insinuations, he was thoroughly to blame for.) So that did give them a slight -- very slight -- chance of having secrets that weren’t well-known to those who made it their lives to know such things. The only reason she’d made it out of her home turf was her ability to quite literally disappear, and she knew every nook, cranny, shortcut, and back way along her route out. So did Drendor, however, and his enforcers. The number of ‘close calls’ she’d had would have left a lesser thief with soiled britches.

“The plan?”

The dark-haired half-elf blinked at him, and that blank look spoke volumes. She hadn’t honestly expected to make it this far.

“Well let’s be honest, whatever plan I had -- which I definitely did have a plan, a really good one -- didn’t include dragging along a scruffy former pirate with a debatable ability to dance, so … Let’s say ‘new plan’, shall we?”

She folded her arms over her chest, a pensive furrow in her brow. “There isn’t a street in Aliria that the Crimson Moon doesn’t have some sway on. I’d imagine there’s even an informant or three or four in your precious brothel, here… And I’ll die before Drendor gets this damn ruby back. So. I guess…”

She chewed over the next word for a moment, the syllable stuck in her throat. Her entire life, the brand on her chest and the daggers in her hands had been as much a comfort as they were a binding; she knew her world, how it worked, where she fit in, how to thrive… She’d never had any strong desire to leave, not the Shallows, and certainly not Aliria as a whole. This city… this was all she had. But by tomorrow evening, there wouldn’t be a single safe place in the entire throng of buildings for even an invisible slip of a thief to hide.

Slowly, she raised her gaze to him once more.

“Run?”

 

[Gavin Blackfyre]

"Run...." He repeated as he returned to his seat, plate in hand. He tentatively picked up a slice of meat, judging it to be beef or lamb, and began to gnaw upon it. Salty and flavored with just the right amount of spices so it wasn't to over powering. He hadn't realized how hungry he was until he started eating and judging by how fast he chewed, he wouldn't blame her if she thought all his focus was on the food.

But it wasn't.

Drendor a name he knew well though he never met the man. A man with a web of connections through out the city and who was well informed. A man who knew when to apply the right amount of pressure and when to ease off. True to her words, he expected a few tenants in this very building may have sold information to the man thanks to the promise of a few coins, and he couldn't fault them. Looking up at her, he knew the temptation for someone to say something would be to great if they knew she was here. He commanded a certain degree of loyalty, but outside of his crew he couldn't expect many others to remain tight lip.

Worse yet, Drendor held a precarious position with the Merchant Council much like Gavin, as he often aided them when called upon. Unbeknownst to many, this relationship helped in maintaining his position in the slums. Gavin weighed his options. He could very well challenge Drendor and kill him, however he didn't know if the Council would approve truth be told. Jaw clenched in thought, he weighed the options before them. Belgrath was not a possibility as word of some siege taking place had reach Alliria. That news sadden him as a real beaut he had taken a liking to had mentioned going to the Spine and he had a half cocked notion of joining her. His ship wouldn't be an option either, as the crew had been ordered to lay up for the season. They had been fresh off their last adventure and he knew they were in dire need of rest. Besides, he didn't want to draw them in if he didn't need to. Vel Anir was not an option either, as he would end up putting her in danger. With only one real option and picked up his apple, leaned back into his chair and took a bite.

"How do you feel about Magic?" He mused, speaking in between bites. If they were to run it seemed Elbion was his choice.

 

[Kestrel]

Run, indeed.

Kes’s fingers picked idly at the edge of her leather gauntlet, a stray string that was hanging from the edge of her shirt underneath, not really mindful of what she was doing. She often joked her fingers had a mind of their own -- unable to stay still, except when she was soundly asleep. Especially right now; she hadn’t heard anything that could be the Family looking for her still but she knew they hadn’t stopped. Either they’d moved on to look for her elsewhere, or they’d found her and were just biding their time… Neither of which was particularly reassuring as an option.

He was mostly done with his meal and had shifted to regard her, still not having spoken. She waited.

A moment later, he seemed to have settled on a plan, because he asked her… about magic. Her eyes narrowed -- did he know? Was he insinuating something about what she’d seen tonight? Was this a trap? -- but she wrestled the alarm down. A bit of paranoia was healthy; that, however, was only her adrenaline speaking. He didn’t know what had happened tonight, he hadn’t even planned for her to be here, it was all right….

“The same as I feel about any other tool, I suppose. I only trust it as far as the hand that’s wielding it,” she replied, shrugging one shoulder. “It’s saved my life more than a few times and put it in danger just as many.”

She carried a bit of it in herself, as he’d seen from her ability to simply blend into the environment around her. But even she kept that mostly underwraps, because too often those with magic at their beck and call were all too willing to use it without care or reproach on the “disposable” population of the city -- like essentially everyone in the Shallows. Drendor kept a couple of mages at his beck and call as enforcers, but they were separate from most of the Family, not really interacting with them at all. Meaning, most of the people in her life looked at magic as something to be immediately distrusted… her unique, ahem, skill not exempt from that, either.

“... you wanna go where there’s a bunch of stuffy old mages, don’t you. Ugh… They all smell like parchment and something unnatural. Plus their pockets are always full of weird shit like toes and vials of blood and stuff I can’t sell. Not good for business.” She pursed her lips, then, shrugging one shoulder. “Guess it’s as good a place as any to hide, then. Drendor certainly wouldn’t expect it. So, where you thinking, Cap?”

 

[Gavin Blackfyre]

"Elbion of course... Nice enough city, and a I know a few folk who should be able to help." He said with a devilish grin. Though he wasn't willing to admit it, he was longing for a good adventure.

"And not all the folk there smell of parchment... A great deal do... But... Never mind... Get some rest, we will be leaving soon enough." Came the order as it was clear it wasn't a suggestion.

Getting up from his seat, he moved with the plate in hand, apple core and cheese left upon it, his steps not at labored. What ever drought he took seem to be taking effect. Returning to the living space, he would then go as far as to shoo her away. He knew enough to know she was on edge, but he hoped their time talking had rewarded him a small measure of trust. "Small latch on the door if you feel the need to keep it locked... More so for privacy then security though." He added as he honed in on his bed for the night, the couch.

 

[Kestrel]

Elbion. Kes mouthed the word to herself as if that would help her suss out her feelings on the subject. She’d never thought about going to Elbion, never given it a moment's contemplation. Barely knew anything about the city except apparently there were a bunch of mages and a mage-college or some nonsense there. Then again, waking up this morning, leaving Alliria hadn’t been even a passing thought of a half-notion.

Before she could protest or inquire as to other choices or, really, anything, he was shooing her towards the bedroom.

Her eyebrows arched in disbelief, not quite sure how to handle being sent off to bed like a schoolchild… Still, he was already looking ready to sleep, himself. So she went, glancing over her shoulder with this expression of bemusement, especially as he mentioned the privacy latch. Sleep, if it came at all, would not be deep or heavy for her tonight. Still, she needed at least some rest and the time to sort through everything that had happened in the past few hours. To think, she’d woken up this morning and thought how boring, how lame, of a day it was going to be.

“Night, then,” she said as he headed towards the couch, stepping into the room and pulling the bedroom door shut behind her.

The room was like the rest of the apartment -- sparsely but functionally furnished, with few trappings to identify the owner of the room. Flicking the latch locked, she crossed to the window next to make sure the shutters were firmly closed.

Sighing, she sat down on the edge of the bed, slowly undoing the lacings of her gauntlets and pulling them off before setting them on the bed. Her daggers followed next, along with her cloak, boots set neatly to one side but within reach. The leather breastplate she wore unlaced at the sides and she deftly undid the leather thongs, pulling it off and setting it down on her lap. In the very middle of the breastplate, where it would sit hidden in her cleavage while worn, was a small leather pouch, sewn into the underside of the breastplate.

Her fingers quickly withdrew the golden chain from inside the pouch, laying the large pendant adorned with a bloodred stone in her palm. Even in the relative darkness of the room, the insides of the stone… shifted, somehow, seeming alive, like a living breathing being trapped in its depths. Coiling and uncoiling, it was as if a serpent was barely contained in its perfectly angled edges, and the air seemed suddenly colder and less hospitable with it out.

Kes shuddered and pulled out the napkin she’d pocketed from her earlier perusal of Gavin’s kitchen, wrapping the worn cloth square tightly around the pendant. Then she tucked the pendant away, in the waistband of her pants so it’d be on her person even at night. As much as she wanted to chuck it into the depths of the ocean or bury it with the garbage, she didn’t dare lose the evil thing. Not yet.

Setting the daggers on the bed next to her, she lay down, hands on her stomach. Letting another sigh escape her lips, she closed her eyes, then threw one arm over her eyes.

“...shit.”

 

[Gavin Blackfyre]

Unlike his newest companion, sleep came easy for Gavin. It wasn't the fact that his own activities that night had taken their toll on him, the ship captain had always been blessed with an uncanny skill to simply rest. Perhaps it was related to the training he underwent in his youth but when need be he could simply lay down and shut the world out. Trivina teased him often about this unique skill, saying that he was no different then a bear who could will it's body to hibernate. He imagine the science behind it all was vastly different but he never had the heart to correct her, finding the teasing endearing.

Gavin would have fallen asleep the moment when Kes retreated to the room, but he had one more matter to attend to. He ventured downstairs with note in hand and slipped it under one of the many apartment doors on the second level. Afterwards he returned to his couch and sleep claimed him up until the moment the knock came at the door some ours later which was followed by the click of the lock being worked open. The ship captain twisted his head to look to the door, being that he was stretched out over the couch on his back, and yawned. His eyes were barely open as he watched her march in and he could tell by her gait she was ready for a fight.

"Jaenessa before you begin, I have a guest in my room." He pleaded in a hushed voice.

"As if I care!" She snapped but had the decency to keep her voice low despite how sharp her tone was. "I wake up to a note and trail of blood leading from outside to your door! One week... I just asked for one week of no trouble... But noooooo, the Great Captain Gavin Blackfyre is incapable of that. Is the idea of not getting yourself into a mess so foreign to you that you do not realize when it's coming your way or can you just not resist?"

Jaenessa went off on a tangent as she closed in on the couch and berated Gavin, all while checking over his battle scars from the night prior once she neared him. It was a odd mix of scolding and tending to someone in the same instance. "Your stitches are crooked and it's going to scar over... You buffoon you could have awaken me, you know..." She looked to his knee next, noting the bruising. "Able to walk?" Her voice was notably softer now.

"I took the drought you made... Feels better..." Gavin sat up and looked to his knee which to his delight, the swelling had gone down.

"Good... So you will have a fighting chance when I stab you." Jaenessa regained her steam. "One week! That is all I asked for... What was it this time... Another tavern brawl with your friend the Komodo? You two sure like causing a scene."

"What? No.. First you know that was not my fault they were being disrespectful... And we left that situation unscathed if I recall. This was Armeti's doing... Still sour I'm afraid." Gavin informed her as he moved to sit up on the couch.

"Armeti?" Her head rocked back in surprise. "It's been... Two... Three years since his last attempt?"

"Two assassins this time... Must have spent the extra time on training them up... Skilled... Very skilled... Left them where they jumped me, won't be surprised if you hear about it soon enough." Gavin said in a nonchalant tone.

"No... No Gavin, you do not get any praise from me from dispatching two assassins, in fact...." Jaenessa reached over and wrapped her knuckled over the top of his head.

"Ah!" Gavin yelped in pain.

"And this note! Leaving, arrange passage for two, supplies... What the hell!" Jaenessa went on, reading the note portion in a deeper voice in a attempt to mimic his own tone.

Rubbing the spot she had hit, Gavin sighed then explained his meeting with Kes, sparing no detail. Clearly, she was someone he trusted .

"... I can have the crew assembled in a hour... Ready to sail by noon." The woman had calmed down by the time he finished explaining. It was clear she held his feelings for Trivinia and his need to help those she had once helped in high regard.

"No... No I couldn't ask any of you to get involved... This is for me to shoulder... Besides.. Drendor is involved... Which means the Council is to a certain degree... Best to be as quiet... And besides, with all that is happening in Belgrath, I would rather you stay here... Alliria... Will be headed for difficult times I believe." Gavin summed his thoughts up.

"Which... I am not sure you leaving now is the best idea..." Jaenessa added her own thoughts. "Alliria is going to need your help.. And the ship needs her captain."

"Ha... You have just as much claim to the Roci as I do and you are just as capable... We both had a good teacher." Gavin offered a grin, knowing he was right.

"I swear.. You are just like him.... He was always to quick to jump into trouble with out thinking..." Jaenessa grumbled as she sat the small basket she entered in with upon the table.

"You're right... One of the better qualities I picked up from him... Now... Can I assume you have everything prepared?" Gavin pushed his luck as he reached for the basket. He was rewarded with a slap to his hand.

"Of course everything has been arranged... And you do not get to eat first...I swear any lessons I taught you in manners have been loss... Your guest comes first... I can only assume with all this racket you caused she's awoken... Now go bring up the water basin I left outside so you two can wash up..." Jaenessa busied herself emptying the contents of the basket. Fresh biscuits, thick cuts of bacon, fruits and fruit juice.

When Kes chose to join them, she'd find Jaenessa seated at Gavin's desk scribbling away furiously upon a piece of parchment while Gavin was doing as instructed. The catty woman was a beaut, fair skin with fine chocolate colored hair which cascaded down past her shoulders in a wavy fashion. Several sections were braided and adorned with colorful beads giving her a some what exotic look. Her face was stern however, strewn with the confidence of a woman who was sure of her station. If clothing was anything to gauge one's position, she looked the part of a pirate with her fine red coat and leather bodice complete with a frilly white shirt. Upon closer inspection one could see the fine gold deigns weaved into the red jacket, feeding into the richness of her appearance. Normally one to wear a brightly colored head wrap, it was currently used as a sash ad was tied around her waist, it's gold and turquoise design painting a sharp contrast against her coat. Who ever she was, she seemed right at home where she was, talking to Gavin to such a manner and bossing him around.

 

[Kestrel]

Throughout the exchange, there hadn’t been so much as a peep from the bedroom where the dark-haired visitor from last night had absconded to. There was almost no doubt she was awake, certainly by the end of it at least, but she didn’t seem intent to interfere in their… ‘conversation. Bickering. Normal interactions, what the hell did she know.

What Kes did know was when she opened the door, she wasn’t surprised to see the woman belonging to the new voice still there, sitting at the desk with pen in hand. Amethyst eyes flicked over the woman, noting her garb, her bearing, her weaponry -- or lack thereof -- before sliding back up to her face. Folding her arms over chest, Kes leaned against the doorway, looking amused. She herself was back in her full armor, no sign that she had relaxed at all, complete with her daggers on her back, though she’d at least left her cloak resting on the bed.

“Why Gavin, how beautiful a night’s rest has made you.”

She wasn’t exactly onboard Gavin having loop in the woman in front of her -- Jaenessa, from what Kes’s keen ears had picked up -- but what was done was done. If Gavin trusted this woman enough to involve her knowing it probably put a giant target on her back as well, Kes just had to hope that the scruffy pirate/expirate/whatever knew what he was doing. And that this woman knew what Gavin was getting her into. It’d never been Kes’s job to keep other people alive, not unless they were Family.

She didn’t miss the irony of her current situation being running for her literal life from Family. Shit, again.

She’d heard something about food, so she wandered towards the basket that she didn’t remember being there the previous evening. It’d been nearly a full day since she’d had anything beyond rum and pie in her stomach, and now that adrenaline had ebbed in the cold light of the day, she was all too aware of that fact.

“I’m Kes by the way. Thanks for the food,” she said as she picked through the offering, sorting herself a small but nutritious selection. She could have eaten the whole thing herself -- Petra liked to tease her about having a bottomless pit for a stomach -- but she was cognizant of the fact that at the very least Gavin would need some, too. “I’ll be sure to steal you something nice from Elbion. What d’you like? Jewelry? Knives? The head of a particularly uppity mage?”

She grinned, sliding into a seat at the table with her food in front of her.

 

[Gavin Blackfyre]

"Ha! He wishes he was this beautiful!" Was Jaenessa's response.

"I'm right here you know." Gavin grumbled as he carried the large water basin from outside into his apartment and into the bathroom.

Upon hearing Kes' declaration, Jaenessa smiled widely. "Gavin I like this one.. But no deary, no maiming or stealing of any kind... Try to stay out of trouble... I do like jewelry though so maybe some stealing. I'm Jaenessa, First Mate to the Rocinante..." She introduced herself, turning her gaze from Kes to look to Gavin in a quick manner that may have gone unnoticed. Gavin gave a faint shake of his head, a silent conversation going on apparently. "And formerly betrothed to this fool."

"Still here." Gavin sighed as he walked to over and claimed a cut of bacon.

"How fortunate are we..." Jaenessa responded. "Gavin told me of your dilemma... despite his knack of getting into trouble, he's almost as good as staying out of it. Arrangements have been made and once you two eat and wash up, you'll be on your way."

The First Mate was busy writing once more as she spoke.

"Never asked you Kes... Is it just you... or should Jaenessa look to help any kin of yours as well.. I know we have to get you out soon but my invitation to help extends to any family of yours as well." Gavin offered as he chewed on his bacon.

 

[Kestrel]

Kes looked up at Jaenessa with an appalled look, then back at her food. ‘No stealing?’ she mouthed, as if it was the most horrendous thing she’d ever been told, but by then Gavin had brought the basin in and was giving Jaenessa a look -- a look that was full of meaning, though the half-elf wasn’t privy to exactly what they were saying. She didn’t press. Especially because then she had the interesting tidbit of formerly betrothed to sort of mull over. Well, that explained the fussing and the chiding, then.

“Maybe it wouldn’t be ‘formerly’ if you gave her more jewelry and less sass,” Kes offered Gavin helpfully, over a half-chewed piece of bread slathered with butter. She didn’t know much about romance (okay, she didn’t really know anything) but it was rare to meet the being -- female or male, rich or poor -- who didn’t like shiny, expensive things.

Universal truth, there.

Her amusement, however, was rather soured by the question about kin and family. Her lips pressed in a tight line for a second as she considered the irony in his question. It was, after all, the very people she considered her family that were hunting her right now. She rather doubted she’d be greeted with hugs and smiles if -- when -- they ever caught up to her. She shook her head once, not looking up at either of them as she busied herself with fishing through the basket for another helping.

“Just me. What’s your plan for getting us out, anyway? Please tell me it’s something really interesting, like hiding us in barrels and floating us out in the canals. Or burying us in crates of oranges. Or dressing us up as ugly concubines on our way to meet a handsome but mostly blind widower who wants to make an honest woman out of one of us.”

She found an apple, idly rolling it down her arm to her elbow and popping it up into the air -- sending it right over to Gavin as she grabbed the other one from the basket. Sitting back, she took a big bite, looking between the two of them.

 

[Gavin Blackfyre]

"I really like her Gavin..." Jaenessa said after listening to Kes' wisdom on how to keep a woman and then her ideas on how they could get out of the city. She held an amused look as she stopped her writing and set her gaze upon the half elf her, nose scrunched in the cutest way possible as she scrutinized Kes with a long stare.. "You have my blessing to pursue this one." The First Mate suddenly announced.

The sudden declaration caught Gavin off guard and he nearly missed the apple that Kes sent his way. He managed to catch it but not before instinctively ducking his head out of the way. "Jae, please." His voice though sharp, was pleading for her to stop.

"He may seem grumpy and old but I promise he is young at heart and he can be clever and caring when need be... You just have to tell him to shave ever once and a while a-" Jaenessa would have continued to tease Gavin if he had not walked up to her and put the apple to her mouth.

A laugh came from her and she sat back while biting into the fruit as Gavin claimed another.

"There are a few small passage ways that few know of in the sewers we will be able to use and travel with ease.... Jae has also arranged for a woman to make a scene in the market place soon. She doesn't look much like you but she is a half elf with dark hair... Hopefully that will draw their attention.... We sneak out onto a small ship and sail up river in the mean time." A very simple plan but then, he found the simple plans carried less risk of running a foul.