Private Tales The Night with the Moon in Her hand

[Gulliver Ingold]

"Thank you for staying open, Mister Ingold. I am so sorry for keeping you." The well-dressed man sounded grateful, abashed, and awash with relief as he clutched a lustrous, moonlit bouquet. The large lilies glimmered with a pearlescent sheen and rested in a bed of white yarrow so pale the flowers almost seemed translucent. "I'm a complete idiot, if you hadn't still been here my boss would h-"

"Shh, shh. Nonsense. I can be rather forgetful, myself. These things happen," Gulliver soothed with a hand on the man's upper arm, gently escorting him past rows of carefully cultivated, vigorous blooms towards the door. His lips were curled into one of those empathetic smiles that crinkled the corners of his pale eyes. "I am just glad you caught me before I locked up. Perhaps it was fate that I let time get away with me tonight." He allowed a soft laugh to escape his lips. "And please, call me Gulliver."

"Well, Mister-... Gulliver," the man corrected himself, the smile on his lips genuine but shaky, likely still running on the adrenaline from when he first realized his blunder. Working for some of the business moguls in town could be high stress work with powerful consequences awaiting mistakes. "I won't keep you any longer... and I will remember your gracious assistance. You enjoy the rest of your night." The man dawdled a moment longer outside the door, as if wondering if he should say anything more, before he finally turned and scurried off to the carriage waiting to take him back into the Inner City.

The fact that Gulliver's shop was even in the Outer City was entirely by choice. He could afford to set up in the Inner City, and likely would be quite welcomed as his arrangements were often in high demand for those large, ostentatious events, but he far preferred where he was. Close to the hardworking, who appreciated a free flower to take home to their spouse. Close to where the urchins crept in from the slums in hope of a bit of coin or sustenance. Away from the noisy bustle of the markets where people were in too much of a hurry to really stop and appreciate true beauty. The wealthy could afford to travel to him, and perhaps it was a bit of pettiness and pride on his part that he wanted to make them travel to him. He knew that they would.

Gulliver lingered outside his door, staring into the Allirian night long after the clop of hooves pulling the carriage had passed from hearing, letting vague thought flit around in his clever-but-nebulous little head. Letting time get away from him again, as it were. It was a crisp and clear night, and the silvery luminescence was particularly kind upon the pallor of the half-fae man. Like moonlight on undisturbed snow.

Kiros Rahnel

 

[Kiros Rahnel]

“Order of business?” Asked one of the guardsmen at the city’s gate, the light of the flickering torch in his hand bidding back the darkness in his immediate vincinity.

“We got grain for the market. From out east.” Remarked the caravan master, before she gestured with an arm towards the six carts in tow. The other guardsmen took a look to confirm the contents before giving the first guard a nod.

The caravan had arrived not long after night had fallen. They had but three guards with them, two young men and an older one around Kiros’ age, all armed with leaf spears and round shields. They did not bother with a curiass or helmet, as they hardly expected trouble. Kiros hadn’t either, considering the cargo consisted entirely of cart fulls of wheat. It was hardly worth the effort of robbery.

Far from a lucrative job to take, it was still a simple one. All Kiros had been hired on for was to ensure the health of those making the journey, acting as insurance against injury should such a misfortune strike them. Strange that such a caravan needed guards, but Kiros wouldn’t shirk the pay. As it turned out, the trip had been entirely uneventful. No one had gotten hurt, and as such Kiros could not collect a fee for healing he hadn’t needed to provide. This left him with only the base pay, which while modest, was adequate enough. Pay may have been a touch lacking, but it was not the only reason Kiros had signed on for.

The caravan was further convenient because it and he shared the same destination: Alliria. Their numbers may not have been intimidating, but it was enough to discourage animals and highwaymen from accosting them during the trip. The security provided by numbers eased worry, and that Kiros had managed to get where he needed to go without fret was blessing enough for the night. He’d earned enough recently that money ought not be on his list of worries for a while.

“Alright, you got the fees?” The first guard said.

“Yeah, I got it here.” The caravan master replied, reaching into the closest cart to withdraw a sack of gold. The guard didn’t dare take it, but gave a cursory inspection to ensure that the lady could pay. The contents in the bag looked to be enough, and the guard gave another nod of satisfaction.

“Alright then. Looks like you’re all good to go.” Replied the guard.

“Great.” The caravan master said, before turning to Kiros and the guardsmen.

“Alright. I got it from here. Your pay, five gold pieces each.” She said, tossing each of the men a pouch substantially smaller than the one she’d shown the guardsmen. Kiros caught it in a hand, and cradled his staff in the crook of his arm to undo the tie-string and inspect the contents. Once content that he’d been paid, he tied the bag up again and tucked it safely away.

“Thanks. Have a good evening.” Kiros replied cordially, before taking his leave into the town himself.

He had to find lodgings for the night, and began his search on the city’s outskirts where he hoped he’d find one that wasn’t too expensive. He also needed to find a discreet merchant from which he might purchase a resupply of shade, but at this hour Kiros doubted he would find one. Only his need for an inn motivated his travels along the roads.

Some distance ahead, Kiros witnessed a man taking his leave from a shop into a carriage, with another remaining near the entrance. The establishment looked like a flower shop, and the white-haired man still outside it looked like he might be the store’s proprietor. If so he was doing business surprisingly late. Both the nature and hour of his business elicited hope that he might be able to procure the substance Kiros was in search of. Well, if he could buy it now, that would save him the search tomorrow.

With time to save and little else to lose, Kiros made his approach towards Gulliver with a cordial greeting.

“Good evening. Apologies for troubling you if not, but are you still open for business?” Kiros politely asked, clad in his white and red robes. It appeared priestly, but it wasn't the robes of any local Celestialist clergy, at least. By his garb and his accent, it was clear Kiros hailed from distant lands further out west in the desert.

He’d rather not speak more of his true intent, just yet. Best to gauge the shopkeeper, lest he brazenly request find himself requesting the illicit substance from some poor, innocent soul. Kiros may have had his suspicions, but he’d prefer to confirm them before putting his request forth. Hopes remained high though, and the opportunity couldn't go unchecked.

Gulliver Ingold

 

[Gulliver Ingold]

It became surprisingly easier to inadvertently spend hours merely standing around lost in thought once he had centuries weighing on his thin shoulders. Increments of time that once felt like eternity started to feel rushed. A year might as well have been a week, an hour a minute. Perhaps it was in Gulliver's best interests that he would be interrupted once more before the moon could creep its way across the sky and disappear behind the silhouette of Alliria's tallest structures.

A heavy, unhurried blink of his silvered eyes was the moment it took for him to even realize he was being addressed, which was then pursued by another blink and his pale brows raising up in query. Still, despite his obvious wonderment at having yet another late night customer, there was that smile on his lips. Easygoing, placid, welcoming. There was not a hint of annoyance or weariness in his gaze. He had all the time in the world, after all.

He turned to face the approaching man fully, hands clasped neatly in front of his light coat. The fabric was thin and mercurial and the way it draped loosely over his shoulders only accentuated how spindly and thin the man was. Gulliver took note of the other man's own garb, identifying it as priestly, but curious to find he couldn't immediately identify who this man might be priestly towards. Gulliver was not particularly religious, but he was traveled and respectful enough to have some awareness of the various practiced religions.

Of course, he didn't simply stand there gawking at the man. He responded with lighthearted mirth, "I could be, and I might as well be. I am here, after all, and rarely in much of a hurry." The door leading into the shop was still wide open, so Gulliver merely stepped aside and gestured inwards with the slow swooping motion of an arm.

"A bit late for flower shopping, don't you think?" He then added with an amused crinkle of his nose as he followed the robed man in. "A forgotten birthday? The Mrs. is upset? Or did you simply feel the whimsy for a spot of beauty? The last is my favorite, but admittedly rarely why anyone with purpose comes in." Oh, but he would have loved for someone to mysteriously visit on a late night whim only for the sake of taking the time to treasure something lovely.

The shop would have looked meticulously organized and spotless were it not for the plethora of flowers. The aisles between the benches and displays were clear and clean, pale stone floors installed because moisture and wood did not get along long-term. The buttressed ceiling was clear of webs and dust. Arched windows allowed streams of moonlight to peak in. The flowers, however, were everywhere. Absolutely taking over. An astounding variety of blooms taking up the benches, the walls, the archways, the counters. There was scantly a free surface to place anything upon and even walking up and down the aisles would have your knees and hips brushing the colorful, vibrant petals.

And the smell was delightful. Herbaceous, sweet, floral, with occasional whiffs of pepper or citrus depending on which plants you were passing by.

"Ah... Pardon the clutter, please," Gulliver offered an apology for the breathtaking, albeit overwhelming, display. "My projects tend to get away from me..."

Kiros Rahnel

 

[Kiros Rahnel]

"I could be, and I might as well be. I am here, after all, and rarely in much of a hurry." Gulliver replied, speaking with a rather chipper expression and tone. Having been gestured within, Kiros proceeded to do so and stepped through the doorway Gulliver was so politely keeping open for him

“That you are, as am I.” Kiros affably responded. Glad that the store was open and assured by his reserved yet open response, it seemed quite likely that he might be able to make his needed purchase here.

"A bit late for flower shopping, don't you think?" Gulliver commented, and Kiros found it rather fair. That someone was still doing business at this hour was beyond an oddity, it had motivated his approach. Surely there must be cause for someone to still be selling their wares at an hour so late, and Kiros hoped his suspicions were true. It would be rather convenient if he could resupply himself with illicit shade before setting down for the night, saving himself the time from having to do so tomorrow.

“A late hour for selling flowers too, isn’t it?” Kiros slyly quipped back, brow slightly raised and lips subtly curled in a grin. The shopkeeper was jovial about matters, and that was a fine start. Friendly banter was good, and would bode well for gauging his attitude and his likelihood of carrying the product Kiros currently desired. Within the shop his gaze turned to the various flowers available, but only briefly. It was doubtful that he would carry shade openly, either as substance or as the plant that was it's source. But the combined fragrances of the many flowers he did carry met his nostrils as he continued within the shop. After such a journey, it was a rather pleasant experience in a way.

"A forgotten birthday? The Mrs. is upset? Or did you simply feel the whimsy for a spot of beauty? The last is my favourite, but admittedly rarely why anyone with purpose comes in." Gulliver asked him next, and that they were indoors was best for the request Kiros had for him. While, he had the sensibilities to not be quite so blunt about it, avoiding the topic would not get him what he wished for.

“Close, yet not quite.” Kiros began. “Some flowers are more difficult to acquire, not all can be openly sold.” He continued. He'd yet to request what he wanted, yet this explicitly stated notion might clue Gulliver to the nature of what he intended. Maybe. If not, Kiros would follow up and do so himself. It was his one purpose in being here, and careful as he may be he wasn't about to leave before determining whether Gulliver carried the shade or not.

“Might your selection be so wide?” Kiros asked, a brow raised as he turned to him.

Gulliver Ingold

 

[Gulliver Ingold]

The honest truth was that Gulliver's reason for being open so late had very little to do with what he did and did not sell at his shop, nor who he did and did not sell to. Moments merely seemed to blur and blend together after a certain passage of time (or so he liked to blame) and the half-fae's mind was easily set adrift in it. He would get lost in tasks or lost in trains of thought and suddenly the moons were telling him he had stayed out far too late. It didn't help that the man did not need much sleep, and so tiredness rarely alerted him that half a day or more had passed.

That didn't, however, mean that the florist couldn't have what this man was looking for.

"It is, isn't it?" He mused with good-natured mirth as the man turned his question about doing business at that time of night around on him. "It's unconventional, I admit, but if people are willing to buy I suppose I might as well be willing to sell, mm?"

He brushed carefully past the man, beneath drooping arches heavily laden with flowers and verdant foliage, and towards the back corner of his shop where sat a little round table. An oil lamp cast stark shadows on the plaster walls from the small stack of books and the kettle sharing the space with it. Gulliver placed a hand tentatively against the side of the kettle and hummed with approval, finding the enchanted kettle stones he had purchased had done their job in keeping the water hot while he had dallied about outside.

"A rarer flower, you say..?" The question was turned over without looking back at his guest, but even from the side of his profile Kiros would see his pale brow lift askance. Gulliver's mother had been quite the entrepreneur and most of her business had been clean and legitimate. She had instilled those ideals of pride and integrity into her son, and he worked hard to see that his shop could stand on its own two legs were it gutted to its most mundane components. His mother also knew when laws seemed pointless except to stand in her way and when the outlawed and unlicensed were merely seldom tread paths to success and survival. That unscrupulous mindset, too, was instilled in her son.

That meant knowing when not to jump too eagerly on board lest risk being lead into a trap.

"I am a botanist, sir." Water from the spout of the kettle steamed as it was poured into an olive green ceramic mug, the leaves at the bottom rolling about tumultuously while they were immersed. "I've traveled all over the world... well, ah, the known world... to collect new, interesting... rare plants to study and cultivate myself. It is my passion. Are you looking for something endangered? Unpopular? Medicinal?"

Gulliver turned at last back to his guest with that gently questioning smile, the slightest tilt of his head and slow blink of his argent eyes citing a soft and simple man. "Tea..?" He offered the mug forward.

Kiros Rahnel

 

[Kiros Rahnel]

"It is, isn't it? It's unconventional, I admit, but if people are willing to buy I suppose I might as well be willing to sell, mm?" Gulliver replied, turning the response upon Kiros again. His response was rather vague, making neither denial nor confirmation of what Kiros himself had implied in only the vaguest of terms. Gulliver wasn't about to openly hawk the illicit goods, just as Kiros was cautious to make the request. Despite his hopes, he couldn't blindly count on purchasing what he desired.

Gulliver moved past him, treading further into the plant laden shop, the ceiling occluded by a canopy of plants with bright flowers and green leaves spilling from it. Kiros followed, with Heirahit held at an angle so as not to get caught in the tangle of stems and foliage surrounding him as he passed through. As he passed through the shop, the enchanted staff picked up the aura of magic and returned a faint sensation to Kiros. Exactly what magic that might be remained a mystery, Kiros only knew it was present. The sense was subtle, but it was telling that there was more to the shop than met the eye. It was an unmistakble hint that this shop were somehow beyond the ordinary, and bid further hope that Gulliver might carry what he sought after all.

"A rarer flower, you say..?" Gulliver commented. now beside a wooden table with a kettle set upon it.

It wasn't exactly the rarity of shade that made it more complicated to procure, but the illegality of it. Which, naturally, made the item more complicated to request. For all Kiros knew, Gulliver could be a scrupulous shopkeeper and such a request could be unnerving. The possibility remained, but suspicions further fell as the conversation continued further.

"Are you looking for something endangered? Unpopular? Medicinal?" Gulliver further inquired, prompting Kiros to come up with an answer.

'Medicinal' seemed most appropriate, given what he needed it for. He didn't seek it for the pleasures of intoxication, it was the one thing that dulled the migraines She so often smote him with. Not that Kiros could possibly make mention of Her, but he didn't need to explain the true cause of the headaches that plagued him. Itra would probably smite him for that, anyhow.

“Medicinal. I suffer from routine migraines honestly, and there is but one medicine I've found that properly dulls the pain.” Kiros explained, laying the groundwork for his request, and conveniently implying he sought it as medicine, not a narcotic. Shade was by and large considered the former, and did not have the best of reputations. But it worked. The difficulty in obtaining it was easier than dealing with the migraines.

"Tea..?" Asked Gulliver, offering him a cup.

“Oh, please. Much appreciated.” Kiros replied, accepting the beverage and taking it to his lips for a sip.

“I have discovered shade is effective, but in Alliria that is contraband. Still, I seek a supply of something to dull the pain when it occurs.” Kiros added, finally stating what he sought clearly. At least he hadn't come seeking the substance like some junkie. On the chance that Gulliver rightfully disapproved, perhaps he might have enough empathy to not rat him out.

Best to throw it out there now, then. He surely looked more suspicious the longer he waited.

Gulliver Ingold

 

[Gulliver Ingold]

The shop certainly was far beyond the ordinary, from the manner of magic that the half-fae used to to make his cut flowers flourish, to the alternative purpose he frequently put his goods towards. It wasn't unusual for Gulliver to give out the occasional free flower or two, but his blood was half fae, after all, and nothing was ever really free. The enchantment on said blooms, however, was carefully crafted and primed to dispel itself at the slightest prodding. Were someone to try to examine and unravel the spell, it would come undone itself and be unrecognizable. It was his fail-safe. Any mage might know his flowers were enchanted, but very few would ever know what manner of enchantment was weaved through them.

When Kiros accepted the tea, Gulliver seemed to lighten. Brighten. His smile widened without losing its soft, supple edge, and his frame seemed to take in more of the good-will and grace of the world without its physicality becoming any less narrow and gaunt. This was a man who did mean well. Most of the time. If you were not directly, immediately counter-intuitive to his desires. And most of the time, most people were not.

He poured himself a cup of his own and cradled it between his hands, cherishing the bit of warmth it brought to his spindly fingers. Drawn to his lips, the sip he took was slow, giving himself a calculated allotment of time to listen to the man's request and process it without needing to say anything immediately. Over the rim of his mug, his brows lifted again and those mirror-moon eyes blinked languidly.

Shade. He grew it, of course. The deep, cerulean blooms were gorgeous and Gulliver was particularly fond of blue (as well as white and silver). Even beyond the purview of a florist, Gulliver was a botanist. He had an intense curiosity and adoration regarding plants and their various temperaments, tendencies, and uses.

He was very careful about selling it, however, and never sold it directly to a potential consumer. It was safer to go through third parties, other people who had a stake in the business and knew the ropes and webs of navigating outside of the legal system. Doing otherwise risked running into the disingenuous. Granted, Gulliver's reputation was nearly pristine and it was highly unlikely the Allirian enforcers would have any reason to be poking about his shop for criminality.

Gulliver gently cleared his throat as he lowered his cup from his lips and set it gently on the table at his side. He gestured neatly to the secondary chair on the other side of it before easing himself down into his own. He wasn't one to sprawl out, instead being a rather self-contained man who seemed to want to keep his limbs and his aura inwards to himself, even when within his own shop.

"I see." The words were slow, purposeful, thoughtful. Considering. They stood alone for several moments before he continued. "... Tell me a bit about yourself, Sir-..." And then as he trailed off, his eyes seemed to widen briefly as it occurred to him that introductions had never been made.

"Ah, right... Apologies, I'm usually on top of these things. Must be the hour. I'm Gulliver Ingold, the proprietor of this shop. If it weren't already obvious..." There was that good-natured little smile again, if a little sheepish now. "Now, please, I'd like to know a bit about you, if you wouldn't mind..."

Kiros Rahnel

 

[Kiros Rahnel]

Gulliver’s demeanour improved, and his smile seemed to be worn wider once tea had been mentioned. It had been a long travel and while a hot cup of tea would be a welcome refreshment on its own, Gulliver's hospitality couldn't be denied. Shade was what he was truly seeking. Though Kiros had already made his intent clear, but further discourse might help ease the notion of the purchase. If Gulliver was reluctant to make such a sale, Kiros couldn't fault him. Nor could he fault him if he chose not to carry it, being well aware of the risks involved in the trade of the illicit substance.

The notion tea itself was rather pleasant. It was served most anywhere, but a man of such botanical talents as Gulliver surely had a more exotic assortment of the beverage than one might commonly encounter. Kiros briefly wondered whether Gulliver might have some tea from a strange land far away, or perhaps from a rare plant that was rarely sampled. Holding the steaming hot cup by the handle, Kiros carefully and curiously took the cup to his lips with a sip.

Kiros made his request clear, and Gulliver's expression lit up again once he did, which was reassuring. Having arrived in the hopes of purchasing some, it was a relief that he didn't find the question off putting.

"I see." Gulliver replied. He didn't deliver an answer then and there, but Kiros hardly expected it. He was a patient man, and necessarily had to be when he was attempting to buy contraband. Shade was a much trickier purchase than more mundane items, and surely required a fair amount of subtlety on both their parts to be sold.

"Now, please, I'd like to know a bit about you, if you wouldn't mind..." Gulliver inquired, and while Kiros couldn't deny the request to be fair, he did mind for reasons Gulliver could surely not fathom. He was a priest, and wouldn't dare make denial of it. It would look rather odd if he did, given how he was dressed. His deity however, did not need require mention. It was unlikely Gulliver had heard of Itra anyhow. Kiros sure hoped not, and wouldn't be so cruel as to enlighten him otherwise.

“I am Kiros Rahnel, a wandering priest of Amol-Kalit.” He replied. It wasn't exactly a lie, but it was far from the full truth. He was a priest, and while he did hail from Amol-Kalit he was long estranged from the priesthood of the religion and region. For sixteen years, he'd lived away from the desert land as an exile, lest he get caught and undoubtedly executed for the murders he'd committed those many years ago.

Despite being a priest, Kiros did hope Gulliver wasn't familiar with the religion of Amol-Kalit. He'd be less likely to ask unknowingly uncomfortable questions, were he ignorant to the customs. While Kiros held answers should Gulliver make further inquiry, it was unlikely he’d be able to give them with forthright honesty given the terms of estrangement with his religious order.

“I've travelled the east for some time. I roam on a mission of discovery, that I might better understand the gods and their divinity.” He added, and though laden with misdirection, the reply was about as truthful as he could get. He could not for the life of him understand Her, nor how one so abhorrent could be divine. And yet, She was. Hardly motivated to discover more of Her, Kiros truly sought to discover a means of redemption. He still remained without clue as to how it might be obtained.

Perhaps with more wisdom he might determine a means to gain what he's sought for so long. Itra wasn't any help.

Gulliver Ingold

 

[Gulliver Ingold]

The tea was not anything exotic or rare. There were no endangered flower buds, fruits that take ten years to mature, or tender shoots that only grow on the west side of one particular mountain. Though some who knew him might consider him eccentric, Gulliver's tea was a lot like many other aspects of how he lived his life: an immense appreciation for high quality while steering away from the ostentatious and garish. The tea was, in short, good. It was delicate, floral, sweet, and a touch pelagic... but it was still just tea.

They settled down to tea and chatter at this ungodly hour of the night, the conversation prompted by Gulliver as Kiros likely just wanted to get his fix and go. Gulliver was not interested in dealing narcotics, however. He was interested in growing all manner of plants and flowers, and then perhaps arranging them aesthetically for those who didn't know how to appreciate them on their own. That he ended up selling his botany for other purposes was simply the opportunist in him, taking advantage of his own curiosity and experimentation.

So why was he entertaining selling to this man? Because he liked to help, and because it was late and boredom became increasingly harder to stave off the older you got.

The answers Kiros provided to his prompting were largely non-answers, and Gulliver knew it. Short, simple, vague. They answered his query, sort of, without really saying much of anything. The man gave little away. And, honestly, Gulliver saw the ambiguous generalization as an indication that this man was, after all, just here to get something for his migraines. Many people when trying to convince you of a charade made the mistake of rehearsing their stories a little too well. Ask them a question and they tumble into an elaborate retelling of the character they wanted you to believe, giving far more details and insights into their made-up lives than any real person would be interested in sharing with minimal prompting.

"Amol-Kalit, of course," he hummed pensively as he regardfully looked the other man over. "I would ask you which of the Annunaki you serve, but..." An earnest little smile shrugged at his face. "... most devout would proudly announce that, in my experience. I imagine there is a reason you did not, so I won't pry." What that reason was, Gulliver could only guess. It very well could be that the man that sat across from him worshipped one of the Three. It didn't really concern the half-fae.

After another soothing sip of the delicate tea, Gulliver sought to warm his hands around the steaming cup, slender fingers lacing between one another and thumbs resting idly on the lip. He was good at looking thoughtful and unperturbed, even in the middle of very illicit dealings. Illicit dealings with potentially malevolent cultists.

"And you say shade is the only thing to help with your migraines." His lips rolled in to a purse for a moment before he ran his tongue quickly over them, a freely given indication that he was giving the situation serious thought. "I do grow it," he then finally admitted. "Though not here, within town. I've property in the countryside... Have you ever seen the shade blooms, themselves, Ser Rahnel? They are striking. A captivating depth of blue. A shame they are illegal here..."

He let his lament hang in the air for a spell, looking primed with thought, before he continued: "I am not, I think, opposed to providing for your need, but I do have to ask... would you be opposed to trying alternatives?"

Of course, Gulliver was well aware the man had likely already tried every known remedy, and if he had gotten desperate perhaps even had his own disappointing fair share of snake oil. There were many fascinating things about plants, however, and the things they could do when prepared properly (or not at all) was by far the most. From hallucinations to comas, from itch relief to foaming at the mouth, from blissful highs to abrupt death.

He would do his best to avoid subjecting the man to the latter.

Kiros Rahnel

 

[Kiros Rahnel]

Kiros had kept his answers brief. What he had hide was for the best, really. Itra wanted Herself proclaimed, which largely motivated him to avoid doing so. By now, it had become an ingrained habit, given She'd been insistent on maintaining Her secrecy for a decade and a half prior.

"Amol-Kalit, of course, I would ask you which of the Annunaki you serve, but... most devout would proudly announce that, in my experience. I imagine there is a reason you did not, so I won't pry." Replied Gulliver.

By the content of his response, Gulliver appeared to have some awareness of Annunaki theology. By the tone of it, he was hardly convinced. The reaction was subtle, but there was something odd about it, as if he found the introduction insufficient. Or rather, knew that it was. Kiros would've introduced himself as a follower of Naspar, were he not already known as Itra’s emissary. Having been recognized twice already, it seemed quite likely that he might be again. As awkward as it was to present himself as a priest without making mention of his goddess, it would be more awkward to speak falsities that Gulliver might identify. Offering a false account could do no him no good, and offering no account seemed to be taken as an implication. By Gulliver’s tone, whatever interpretation he’d made wasn’t good.

“Most care not little for unprompted preaching. I know I am not in Amol-Kalit, after all.” To imply the absence of information was out of consideration for local sutom seemed the best explanation available. Kiros surely could not deliver honest truth – That She was so utterly abhorrent that he, Her own priest, detested her was not a reason he could reveal. Not only would it be regarded as far stranger than omitting Her mention, to do so would rebuke Her. More than he despised Her, he required Her. He knew not how to redeem himself from the misdeeds that left him exiled from his former home. It was doubtful that She’d help, but his position as Her emissary might. Were it not him, She’d surely deceive some other poor soul into servitude. Such a thing couldn’t be allowed. Kiros had unwittingly announced Her to Arethil – or at least what few souls may have been listening. That She was known was his fault, and the resulting mess his responsibility.

Not that Itra was unholy. She was just terrible. Kiros’ recent encounter and interview with Bubkiss Widewallow left him with some prepared answers, at least. It was a comfort to have them, should curiosity prompt Gulliver to inquire further despite his stated aversion to prying. Concealment had become more inconvenient than revealing Her. To allow Gulliver to dwell upon whatever he inferred had potentially damning ramifications, too. Though reluctant, Kiros was required to act as Her priest and spread Her word. Allowing rumour to spread among Alliria that he was worshipper to a dark god would do no good towards that end. He did not need to be known for crimes against religion in two kingdoms.

“I carry not the blessing of any of the Six, but that of Itra. goddess of Pneria, and Savior of The Crook.” Announced Kiros, making a gesture to the brass holy symbol that capped his quarterstaff in the hopes that its open display might dissuade Gulliver from his hinted notions. Despite Kiros’ own derision at describing Her positively, he announced Her with the same stoic oratory tone he’d practised in priestly lessons, albeit for better gods.

"And you say shade is the only thing to help with your migraines." Gulliver remarked, hinting at further disbelief. That part of Kiros’ story had been truth, though he couldn’t be honest about the source of his migraines. Enough shade dulled the senses enough for pain to barely register, and served an effective solution for what he could not remedy through his own magic. Naturally, She disallowed Her own bestowed powers of healing from undoing Her signature punishment.

"I do grow it. Though not here, within town. I've property in the countryside... Have you ever seen the shade blooms, themselves, Ser Rahnel? They are striking. A captivating depth of blue. A shame they are illegal here..."

Gulliver’s last sentence was disappointing. Kiros was well aware that it was illegal, and well aware that explicitly declaring it as such was a signal that it would not be sold. A defeating turn of events were it true, and Kiros strongly suspected it was.

"I am not, I think, opposed to providing for your need, but I do have to ask... would you be opposed to trying alternatives?" Gulliver continued. While he didn’t exactly deny the request, the notion of alternatives wasn’t quite palatable. Shade had hardly been his first choice. Kiros had gone through a wide variety of treatments in his search for some relief from the headaches She so commonly smote him with, and of them all he found only shade had provided him with true relief.

All the same, Gulliver was clearly well versed in botany, and likely understood the nature of medicine and what a proper alternative might be. Experience left Kiros remaining doubtful of it. Curiosity prompted him to give it a try, though that Gulliver implied he might still sell him shade was a greater motivation to his agreement.

“Shade was far from my first choice. I’d much prefer a treatment less illicit, but worse than illegal is ineffective.” Kiros confessed, recounting his former experiences.

“You certainly have quite an assortment available to you, and well versed in botany I can see. I’m not opposed to alternatives, simply doubtful of their efficacy of any other remedy.” Kiros paused, before continuing.

“I am curious about what alternatives you’d suggest.” Kiros added, taking another sip of his tea as he awaited Gulliver’s response.

Gulliver Ingold

 

[Gulliver Ingold]

Gulliver had done plenty of traveling in his many years and seen much of the world, in fact, though some parts of the world had last been visited so long ago that his knowledge of them was no longer relevant. He was always respectful of a place's culture, making sure to know the bare minimum, at least, necessary to prevent causing offense. Religion and custom were fascinating, and they were constantly evolving in the places he revisited. The man was, himself, not particularly religious... but he was always open to the idea. Perhaps someday an idea might sweep him off his feet.

"I actually rather enjoy preaching..." Gulliver said pensively, and he looked earnest. That wide, consuming depth in the eyes of someone willing to devour whatever information you might provide. Like a child you were about to tell the secrets to successfully skipping a rock across a pond. "There are some very interesting ideas out there, and some people get so... passionate." The statement was followed by a good-natured chuckle.

Itra, however, was not a name he was familiar with. She was not any of the Annunaki, as far as he was aware. A moon goddess, supposedly. Gulliver could not help but feel a little doubtful, but he was keenly aware that he didn't actually know everything. There were certainly lesser deities out there that had gone without his notice. He was, however, honest about not wanting to pry.

"You don't have to explain yourself, Ser Rahnel," he assured, lifting a hand in a placating gesture. "Only tell me what you wish to, or what you think is necessary."

"I do understand your doubt," he then carried on, as it was clear that the man was dubious of the offered alternatives. "I'm certain you've tried plenty of alternatives, already, and would not be resorting to shade if any more... lawful ones were available. There are always unexplored avenues, however. Legal plants but with... unfortunate side effects. Or ones that aren't popular enough in use for the law to have a verdict on."

Leaning forward in his seat, he leveled a look on the priest that suggested he was quite enthusiastic about this line of conversation. Enthralled, even. "I think I recall a particular root in the bayou... I am, of course, happy to provide your shade in the mean time. I would not leave you without relief... but tell me, what prompts your migraines? Or there noticeable triggers? Something you eat, an activity, a time of day..?"

Kiros Rahnel

 

[Kiros Rahnel]

"I actually rather enjoy preaching..." Gulliver replied, and Kiros was both surprised and unprepared for the response. He neither expected nor hoped that such curiosity would come from the someone he was attempting to purchase illicit goods from. It was usually only those devout worshippers of The Six who ever showed interest, and they were usually content with a holy gesture and a blessing mumbled badly enough to be unintelligible. Gulliver's inquiry could not be handled in such a way. Further, he likely found Kiros odd already. He couldn't fault him for it. The problems plaguing him were rather strange, indeed.

"You don't have to explain yourself, Ser Rahnel. Only tell me what you wish to, or what you think is necessary." Gulliver assured him and it was a relief that he did. Speaking Her name was necessary now, but having guarded it as a secret for years made the shift rather jarring. Kiros wasn't sure how long it would take to get used to it, nor did he care to entertain the notion of getting used to Her. Getting away from Her was what he truly desired.

“She is guide and guardian, a hidden hand whom protects the nature of Heka, and punishes those whom would disturb it.” There. That should be sufficient Her, should She be listening. Normally, Kiros would have referred to it as the arcane weave, but Gulliver had displayed awareness of his religion and surely recognized the term. To speak of Her in such positive light remained disturbing, but such accolades had become mandated lies he was now required to utter. The alternative was his own punishment, an eternity in The Pit of The Three. He dared not risk suffering it.

Gulliver continued on about alternatives, and he was correct on his assumption; Kiros had tried a great number, and none of them carried the same effectiveness he'd found in shade. Only it managed to numb the pain, other painkillers simply rendered him indifferent to it. There remained the issue of dosing and tolerance as well. New treatments were unknown, and the unknown carried risk. Gulliver was all too aware of this as well, making casual mention of 'unfortunate side effects'. Hearing of that made Kiros all the more reluctant, and he had been far from willing to begin with.

“I am regrettably all too aware of them.” Kiros remarked, quite deadpan and plain in his response.

"I think I recall a particular root in the bayou... I am, of course, happy to provide your shade in the mean time. I would not leave you without relief... but tell me, what prompts your migraines? Or there noticeable triggers? Something you eat, an activity, a time of day..?" Gulliver continued.

The mention of shade provided some relief, though the inquiry that followed was cause for anxiety. He had been honest in report of his migraines, for they were the true cause he sought the medicine. Gulliver appeared too wise to believe his usual cover that the substance was taken for the purpose of divine communication. He likely was, given his awareness of actual Kaliti custom.

But Itra was the true cause of the migraines, and that was not something he could reveal. Honestly had seemingly caught up with him, and Gulliver's curiosity clearly to great to allow the question to be dismissed. An explanation needed to be put together, and it had to be convincing. Gulliver had some prodding questions, suggesting food, actions and time as possible triggers. The last some seemed most sound, time truly had the most to do with it. When it was time to set up the altar and pray to Her, it was time to prepare against a potential smiting.

“I find that they tend to strike most in the evening, when the sun has set. I can go days without a symptom before it strikes, but they are difficult to predict aside from that.” Kiros answered. Much had been a fabrication, of Her unpredictability was undeniable. Kiros had long given up on avoiding them, unmotivated to avoid the punishment She seemingly inflicted with neither rhyme nor reason. There was no appeasing Her. The best he could do was put up with Her, which he did with continued reluctance.

Gulliver Ingold

 

[Gulliver Ingold]

Maybe Gulliver wasn't the typical face of someone you would purchase narcotics from. He was clean, gentle, well-mannered. And by nature of being willing to engage in such dealings, perhaps he also wasn't the face of someone you would expect to enjoy sitting down to a nice sermon or stopping to listen to a preacher rambling on the street. Regardless of expectations, he was who he was. He will sell you drugs, and he wants to hear about your gods. Please and thank you.

It was both curious and striking to Gulliver, likely both things Kiros wanted to avoid being, that he seemed so averse to oversharing and yet, despite Gulliver insisting that he did not want to pry any more information from him, he still felt the need to share more. It was like the man could not help spilling bits of information as if he was trying desperately to plug some greater dam with it.

He smiled, pleasant and enigmatic, as he rolled his chin against the back of the hand acting as the smooth, porcelain prop for his head. It was his 'I am listening and I am interested' face. Which, in truth, he was. It just had a tendency to look humoring and placating to anyone who wasn't expecting his genuine interest.

A priest of an unknown moon goddess, who did not seem to like to preach much about his unknown moon goddess, who solicited illicit narcotics from strangers in the dead of night to treat his mysterious migraines that occurred under strange, unknown conditions. It truly was unfortunate that he could not think of any obvious triggers.

"Mmm... Unfortunate," he repeated his thoughts on the matter, out loud this time. "I do recommend at least being more mindful of what you are eating and drinking, then. It's often easy to overlook a dietary choice as a source of illness..."

The degree of Kiros's reluctance to explore alternative treatments didn't go unnoticed by the half-fae. At best, he might agree to it merely to humor the florist out of fear he wouldn't help him otherwise. The disappointment on Gulliver's face was obvious, the way his lips pursed into what was only just short of being what one might describe as a pout. Gulliver didn't pout, but he could certainly sulk.

"Testing out new solutions does not have to be part of the deal," he then assured with a slow, perhaps slightly overly dramatic sigh. "I won't leave you in pain just so I can entertain myself with miracle cures. I do not grow them in the city, however. I've a home out in the countryside... I will make the trip out that way. You are welcome to accompany me, or wait here for my return..."

Would he pack up and make the trip to his home, two days away, entirely for the purpose of fetching some flowers for the man seated across from him? Yes, he would. It seemed incredibly out of the way, and likely was to most people, but a couple days felt like nothing to Gulliver anymore. It was hard to feel like you were wasting time when you had so much time to spend.

Kiros Rahnel

 

[Kiros Rahnel]

He'd been Her priest for years, but acting as Her emissary continued to be a difficult adjustment. He didn't want to mention Her in the first place, and in the past he never had to. He'd have simply lied and claimed to be a priest of some other god before, and had he done so here he'd have avoided intriguing Gulliver. Kiros didn't care to spread knowledge of Her at all, and such a way of doing things suited him well. It had suited Her well too, until his venture to Ravaryn. Her desires had changed, and ever since his return he'd been mandated to make himself visible as Her priest. Which didn't mean he had to bring her up at every possible opportunity, but he could not deny his position as Her priest without effectively rebuking Her. He wished he could, but in his position he could not. Gulliver might think him odd, but better to do so than to know Her.

"I do recommend at least being more mindful of what you are eating and drinking, then. It's often easy to overlook a dietary choice as a source of illness..." Gulliver responded

“True, but a change in diet hasn't carried any noted effect upon the migraines.” Kiros spoke the lie with confidence. He hadn't done anything of the sort, but he didn't need to in order to know that it could not help. The only permanent cure was to abandon Her, but he had none else to turn to. His crimes and sins had estranged from The Six, and they would not receive his worship. They would leave his soul to The Pit and The Three. Itra wouldn't save his soul either, She'd simply destroy it. Hardly helpful, it was better than to an eternity of torture. That much was clear.

"I won't leave you in pain just so I can entertain myself with miracle cures. I do not grow them in the city, however. I've a home out in the countryside... I will make the trip out that way. You are welcome to accompany me, or wait here for my return..." Gulliver explained. Kiros didn't care to depart elsewhere for days to attempt treatment, especially when he didn't particularly want the treatment. Gulliver appeared disappointed, but there simply wasn't the time. Even if there was, Gulliver had a dangerous sense of curiosity to him and was likely to inquire about Itra further. Ignorance was truly bliss, and Kiros would rather leave him with it.

“I am appreciative of that, I must admit,” He began, with an apologetic expression on noting Gulliver's disappointment. “But I've little time for it. I simply seek treatment, and shade is the only one I know to work.” Kiros concluded, hoping to to simply make his purchase and be on his way. He'd have to pray to Her in a couple days time, and remedy for the pain his migraines brought by then was best for him to have. To spare the Gulliver further awareness of Her was best for him too.

All the more reason to simply make his purchase and depart, lest he inflict Her upon the man who'd been so helpful.

Gulliver Ingold