Tale As Old As Time... (scrimshaw and emybear)

Discussion in 'ONE ON ONES IN CHARACTER' started by EmyBear, Oct 9, 2016.

  1. It was your typical New York weather in May. Rain drizzled from the grey skies above, a gentle breeze blew somewhere. It was hard to tell when walking down the noisy busy streets surrounded by massive buildings and skyscrapers.

    Natasha stood in front of a large billboard, staring up at the beautiful young woman plastered to it. It was her, or had been just two weeks ago. An upcoming model, the new jewel of the city as some said. But no more. Rumors had been circulating her disappearance.

    Did she get murdered, run away with some rich boy to elope? Fall I'll with an incurable disease? The woman sighed lifting gloved hands and pulled the hood of her jacket closer to shield the cool air from her face and the world from seeing her.

    Two weeks. She didn't know why or how it had happened, but she woke up an day. And she was not the beautiful person the world loved. No, she was hideous, ugly. Her rage had turned into hate, and she hid away from everyone thanks to a secret loft her parenta owned in the city

    She was only glad they were still away on whatever vacation they were taking. She didn't need their sympathy at the horrible thing their daughter became.

    Natasha turned away from the sign, hugging her coat closer before walking across the street, carefully dodging taxi drivers that never stopped for anything. Once on the other side she ducked I to a small café she began to frequent the last few days to escape the chilly rain. Shaking the water from herself, still careful to keep herself hidden, she walked to the front counter and took up her usual seat at the end. Eventually she ordered some coffee and a slice of pie, some if the best they had in town as far as she was concerned.

  2. It was raining, yes, but Tristan had always rather liked spring showers, himself. With one hand he hefted his umbrella, and in the other was tucked his best friend. Her name was Ivy: his Italian Greyhound. They had been out for an early morning walk when the looming clouds finally burst with rain.

    Though it was true that he personally didn't mind it, he did want to get his dog out of the elements. She was frail, and so he was quick to duck inside of the nearest establishment once he could. Ivy was a service dog, or at least that was what he considered her. They wouldn't deny her entry, anyway. She wasn't any trouble.

    As Tristan stood at the door, holding it ajar to shake off his umbrella and preferably not track rain through the building, he set Ivy down and she shook her short fur of any stray droplets that had managed to catch her. Her owner set about walking to the counter to get a drink upon realizing the place was a café, and normally Ivy would have followed without question. It made sense then that he didn't even think to make sure she was. For once, she wasn't. No, something had piqued her canine curiosity.

    The small greyhound lifted her nose to the warm coffeshop air and then padded forward, making a beeline toward a cloaked figure seated alone. It was as if she could sense something, but what that was no one would ever know. Before long, she was seated at the person's feet, staring up with round eyes and a tilted head.

    It wasn't until then that Tristan noticed she wasn't with him, and he turned from the counter to search when he spotted her. Loosing a sigh of relief, he took his beverage gratefully from the worker and then headed toward Ivy. "I'm sorry," he said to the stranger as he knelt to scoop up his dog. "She normally sticks to me like glue. She didn't bother you at all, did she?"
    #2 Scrimshaw, Oct 9, 2016
    Last edited: Oct 9, 2016
  3. Natasha had just finished her coffee when she heard the faint steps of a small dog nearing. Curious, especially as to why one would be allowed, she looked down.

    Sure enough, there at her feet was a small but sweet looking thing. She smiled softly. "Well, hello there, what do you think you're doing?" She asked the dog in a soft voice. She bent over a little, holding out her hand for the dog to sniff.

    Then, when another figure joined, she sat upright, still keeping her face as coated in the shadows as possible. The tip of her nose was really the only thing noticeable. "Oh, no, not at all. It's quite alright. She's a cutie," she replied to the man, taking a quick glance over him. "What's her name?"
  4. Tristan smiled, ruffling the fur between the little dog's ears. He was glad it didn't bother this stranger for her to have gotten so close. He knew there were people in the world who just didn't like dogs or animals in general, or it could have been that she was in a bad mood and didn't want to be bothered by anyone or anything.

    Nodding at the woman's words, Tristan held the greyhound out toward her a bit. "Her name is Ivy. You want to pet her?" he spoke as he did so. "She's a total glutton for attention." He chuckled a bit and then quirked a brow when he really let what the stranger was wearing sink in. He cocked his head at her, and Ivy did the same. "... Are you cold? It's actually pretty warm in here compared to outside."

    Silently, he took a sip of his coffee, glancing at the woman's shrouded figure from over the cup. She really had herself wrapped up good. He couldn't make her face out. But, perhaps she wanted it that way. "Hey, I'm Tristan, by the way," he eventually said. "Do you mind if we sit here? We're just waiting out the rain." He held out a hand for a shake if she was willing. She was really mysterious and part of him actually felt that she'd decline--the shake and the seating arrangement. But, he enjoyed having company so he was hoping she would oblige.
  5. Turning back to him, this Tristan fellow, she held out a gloved hand to the dog, before gently scratching her behind the ear. "Ivy, huh? It's a lovely name. And there's nothing wrong with a little attention, is there?"

    Natasha couldn't help but smile. She too had a dog in her younger years, and missed the companionship they gave. But the dog had been older when they rescued him, so she only had a few years before he passed.

    At his question if she were cold, she shifted a bit, turning away just enough. "Yeah, a little," she lied. She was sure telling someone she was actually hiding the ugly thing she now was would just get her laughed at. "Been a little under the weather lately, but Ive just got the chills now. "

    She raised her empty cup and got the workers attention, signaling she needed a refill. She was becoming uncomfortable with him, not that she really minded the company. She was just figuring out how to live like this, and was worried she'd slip up.

    So when he introduced himself, she took in a deep breath and smiled even if he couldn't see it. "Tristan? Nice name. You can call me Nat," she returned, placing her hand in his and giving a firm but quick shake before retracting her hand back to the pocket. "And, if you want to, you can. I warn you, I'm dull company, " she added with a small laugh.

    Daring another look at him, she couldn't help but notice he was attractive. Not in the usual way that caught her attentuon, either. Physically yes he was gorgeous,but there was something beneath all that. Brushing it off, she waited, wondering if he really would sit with her.
  6. Inwardly, Tristan breathed yet another relieved sigh. Rejection is never easy to deal with, even if only to sit together. Outwardly however, he took the woman--then known as 'Nat'--'s kind acceptance of his request with a smile. After releasing her hand, he claimed a seat and set Ivy in his lap. "I doubt that you're as dull as you think," he then uttered before taking a short drink of his beverage. "If it's any consolation, I'm usually not very good at coming up with topics of conversation. But, even with that being the case, having company is always preferable to the alternative. At least for me."

    Tristan had never been particularly social in the sense that he isn't much of a talker, but he always puts himself out there and has no trouble breaking the ice or making small talk with people he doesn't even know, just for the heck of it. He was a people person, but always more of a listener. Just having companionship was good enough for him.

    He let the silence stretch between them then, running a hand along Ivy's back rhythmically. This woman, though he couldn't see her face--or perhaps precisely due to that--he couldn't help being interested in knowing her. He wasn't sure how much stock to invest in her story of having been ill, but he knew better than to question it. After all, it was no business of his what she opted to wear or what she had to hide.

    "If it wouldn't be too forward of me to ask: do you live in the area, Nat?" he then suddenly spoke, letting his gaze rest on the shadow that veiled her visage. "It's just that I go on frequent walks around here, and I don't think we've ever met. I'm fairly certain I would have remembered passing a mysteriously cloaked woman in my meanderings." It was meant as a joke but he wasn't sure how she would take it. Truth was, he didn't speak to people very often on account of his manner of speech. It seemed to put many off, and even push some buttons as if he had an air of arrogance. He wasn't trying to act high and mighty, he had just always been very bookish and with a love of words came an inflated vocabulary.
  7. Nat watched him out of the corner of her eye as he took the seat next to her, placing Ivy in his lap. She couldn't help but reach out once more and give the little dog a gentle rub, before taking her freshly re-filled cup in hand and taking another sip.

    "Ah, well. Don't bet too much on me not being boring, but I suppose you're right. It's better than talking to a wall and people thinking you're insane," she joked lightly. "And there's plenty to talk about, really. Weather, news, politics, religion," she listed off, but shrugged her shoulders lightly. "But I guess those aren't too fun to talk about either, right?"

    Falling silent, she sipped her coffee some, letting the warmth spread through her body and the flavors dance on her palette. She didn't know what more to say, really. She was never one for conversation unless it revolved around the latest and most expensive designer clothes, shoes and makeup. Or boys, that was another popular subject with her and her friends. A dull ache formed in her chest as she thought about them. She wondered what they were going through, if they even really noticed her absence. It was unlikely, they probably found someone new to flock to and gossip with.

    It was Tristan's voice that brought her back to reality, and she turned some towards him as he spoke. She gave him a small laugh, shaking her head some. "Mysterious, huh? Haven't heard that one before." She paused, finishing the last of her coffee. "Actually, I just sort of moved to the city a little bit ago. I used to live out with parents about half an hour drive out of town. Finally getting out on my own and all," she answered. "How long have you lived here?"
  8. Tristan gave a short chuckle to match her laugh, content with the fact that she had found the humor in what he'd said. Her story which followed put things in perspective for him. It made sense then that he hadn't met her. Sure, he did a lot of walking but he didn't go out so far.

    "Ah, me?" he uttered in response to her question. "I've been here for much of my life. My father moved us here when I was just a child. His job required it, you see. But, I quite like it here. You've been here for a short while you said? What do you think of it so far?" He understood that the big city wasn't for everyone, but to him it had its charms.

    He drank the last of his coffee, and turned to take a quick glance out the window. The rain seemed to be letting up. He would have to leave soon, as after a rain the air gets colder and Ivy could still risk illness being out in it. They didn't live far from here though, so really he was in no rush. Ivy had actually taken quite a liking to Nat and kept licking her fingers when she reached to pet her and tried to step from Tristan's lap into hers. He snickered and commented, "I'm surprised. She doesn't usually take to people like this."
  9. Nat listened, content it felt like in his company. She didn't know why, it was rather unsettling in a sense. Maybe it was the fact he was an attractive male, one she normally wouldn't admit to finding so.

    Maybe it was cute little Ivy who seemed determined to make it to her lap, and locking at her whenever she went to give her a scratch.

    "It's not too bad here, I guess," she replied, lifting her chin up to take a closer look at him. It was hard to lie about a place she had lived in her entire life, but she couldn't let him, anyone for that matter, know who she was. "I mean, I've lived here my entire life, and spent a good portion of my time in the city. But, living here is different. Noisy. But I'll get used to it eventually. "

    With a quick glance out the window, she could see the sun fighting to be free from the clouds. The rain had lessened significantly since her arrival. She'd have to leave soon herself, though she didn't have a destination. Her days consisted of wandering mostly, spying on those in her old life, if anyone still cared to look for her.
  10. Soft tapping came from Tristan's cup as he took to drumming his fingers against it. Nat was right. The city did take getting used to.

    He nodded, petting little Ivy between the ears. "I hope that you'll come to like it. I agree that it's noisy. Sometimes it can be difficult to sleep at night." He probably wasn't helping the city's case at all, but it was true. But, with that said, he had little else to discuss with her. He enjoyed the talk, but what more was there to say?

    Shifting in his seat, he once again cast his blue gaze toward the door. The weather had broken. He supposed that was his cue to get out of this woman's hair.

    "Well," Tristan then spoke after a brief silence, "it was nice making your acquaintance, Nat." He rose and cradled Ivy in one arm, grabbing his umbrella from the floor next to his chair with the other. Eyeing her for a second longer, and the space around her, he realized she didn't seem to have an umbrella, herself. "Is your hood enough for the rain? It might start up again at any time. Would you like to borrow my umbrella?"
  11. "I hope so, too. It's quite nice here when it wants to be," Nat commented. She pushed her empty plate and cup on the counter, dug out a few dollars and left them as a tip.

    She feared their time together was ending and she honestly felt at a loss for words, at least at this time. Turning to see him rise, she did the same as well. Looking up at him would only reveal the ugly creature beneath. He'd surely run away and never be seen again.

    "Oh, I believe the pleasure has been mine," Nat returned, giving Ivy one last pat. "I did enjoy your company, so thank you. Perhaps our paths will cross again, it would be nice."

    Making sure she hadn't magically dropped something, which she has been good at lately, she took in a deep breath and froze at his offer. He didn't even know her except as this strange mysterious woman. He didn't even know her face. Gulping, she raised her hands, shaking her head. "Oh, no please don't trouble yourself with that. I'll be fine, I'm just a few minutes away if it does start up again. Really," Nat declined, stammering out her words neevously.
  12. Tristan paused, furrowing his brows at the woman's reaction. He sighed slightly, tugging at his collar n and glancing away. "I apologize. It wasn't my intention to make you uncomfortable," he said before turning back toward her with a slight smile. "I enjoyed your company as well, however. I do hope we meet again."

    He have her a dip of his head, paid for his drink, and then turned on his heels to make his exit. He would have offered to walk her home, or at the very least stuck around to hold the door for her, but she seemed so nervous with a simple offer of sharing hos umbrella and he didn't want to make it worse.

    He made his way home with Ivy in his arms, Nat still on his mind. She was shrouded, but was it more than her physical appearance she was trying to keep hidden? Or was he thinking too much? He just couldn't help sensing a sort of melancholy from her when she spoke. If--no: when--they met again, he would try to understand her better.

    Opening the door to his apartment, Tristan set Ivy in her bed and ruffled her fur before setting about filling her food and water bowls. He disappeared into his room for a short while before exiting in formal attite. "Well, I must be off," he told the greyhound, petting her one more time before he headed back out the door. His father wouldn't stand for him being late to this important event.
    #12 Scrimshaw, Oct 11, 2016
    Last edited: Oct 11, 2016
  13. "No apology needed," Nat reassured, not wanting him to feel in such a way. She couldn't come out and really say she felt she didn't deserve the help when she was such a horrible person. "But yes. I do hope we meet again," she added.

    She gave him a small wave as he turned to leave, and with him the smile that had taken place of her usual scowl. She waved goodbye to the waiter at the counter, then turned to leave as well. Once outside she took in a deep breath of the cool air. After the rain, it was about the only time the air smelled clean. Any other day it was filled with fumes and people who wear too much cologne and perfume.

    She should've gone home, should've stayed inside and hid away. But talking with Tristano made her feel energized. Hapoy. Her heart felt lifted. Why he had suchanged an effect on her she didn't know, but it was a nice change. Maybe she could come to call him a friend....

    Almost skipping down the street, she whistled a tune. It had been so long since she felt anything other hate and anger, she just wanted to be out. She soon found herself at a street market, vendors lined the city block selling various goods from food to handmade crafts.

    Poking around, she over heard a lady speaking about her. "I'm surprised she hasn't been found, the poor girl. But, I know no one is in a real hurry to do so except her mother at least. Natasha may have been a beatiful woman, but she wasn't that pretty on the inside. Should've heard some if the names she called her workers," the lady said, going on and on for a few moments.

    Nat stood there shaking. She remembered how cruel she had been to others all because she was better than everyone. Her family was wealthy and she was starting to make a name for herself. She thought nothing could go wrong.

    A sob escaped past her lips, and before anger could make her say anything in defense she turned and ran from the place, finding her way home. She locked the doors behind her and sat on the floor. Slowly she pulled the hood from her face the gloves from her hands and stared at the intricate scars that now covers most of them. "You're fooling yourself if you think he'd want to be your friend," she laughed, leaning against the wall. "You can't hide forever."
  14. Tristan stepped out of the complex and onto the sidewalk, merging with the flow of people on their way to--and perhaps for the graveyard shift: from--work. He adjusted his tie and took a look around himself. This was an important day, indeed.

    A small beep came from his pocket, and he plunged his hand after it to pull out his phone. A text message from his father:

    llYou haven't forgotten, have you?

    He chuckled at it before sending his reply:

    lllOf course I haven't. I'm on my

    The 'business' Tristan had told Nat about was actually a museum; one that his father was the curator of. The opportunity had displaced his family but it had proved to be a boon to them over time. Tristan worked there as well, and the reason this day was so important was because they were meeting with someone who was interested in selling them an artifact they'd been looking for for quite some time. They had been budgeting, and they were hopeful that they could buy it. If--that is--the seller would be reasonable about his asking price.

    When he arrived, his father met him at the door, nervously and painstaking cleaning his glasses as he always did before a deal. "He's already here," he told Tristan, who nodded in response. "Excellent. Have you spoken to him yet?" All he did was shake his head and the duo approached the man, hopeful that they'd come out one artifact richer.
    #14 Scrimshaw, Oct 11, 2016
    Last edited: Oct 11, 2016
  15. The man, Deryck as he preferred being called, stood patiently for Tristan and his father. He was an imposing figure with broad shoulders and standing over six foot. His dark hair kept neatly on his head showed signs of aging with streaks of silver ad white. The scruff upon his face salt and peppered with unshaven strands of white.

    His green eyes, unnaturally bright even in the dim lighting of the museum sparkled with slight amusement as he saw the two approach.

    He gave a slight bend at his waist, smiling before offering his hand to them. "It's a pleasure to meet the both of you finally. I've hears a great deal of what you do here, and I'm sure this beauty will be a wonderful addition," the man said in a rough voice. "Shall we find a place to sit and talk business?"
  16. Tristan turned to his father, who rightly should shake the man's hand first. The gaze was enough to remind him as much and so the man took the imposing client's hand and gave it as firm a shake as he could manage. Tristan then did the same. "Thank you, sir," he replied at the praise. Gesturing then toward the steps behind Deryck, he added, "We can speak privately in the upstairs loft." He gave the seller an amicable smile and proceeded behind him once he started for the steps.

    His father then spoke. "Mr. Deryck, we thank you coming to negotiate with us," was what he decided to say, and it was true they had been trying to get their hands on this artifact for what felt like their whole careers. Tristan had been hearing about it from his father for weeks, how he might finally be able to add it to his collection after so long, and how he wouldn't let it slip away again. Again indeed, as he had sold it away himself, before realizing its worth. Now, to him it was priceless.

    Once they were upstairs, Tristan waved his hand toward a chair. "Please. Have a seat," he requested, he and his father both standing beside their own chairs, only sitting after their client did. A short silence ensued before the curator cleared his throat. "Right then," he began, adjusting his glasses. "Have you considered our offer?"
  17. Deryck nodded, turning on heel to the stairs. With a steady pace, he ascended the stairs and into the loft.

    "It's more of my pleasure to be here Mr..... ?" He replied with a small pause having forgotten the man's name. "I'd rather see this in the good hands of one such as yourself, considering youve had it once before I know it will be well taken care of."

    Deryck stood at the offered chair for a moment, sliding a briefcase on the desk between them. Sitting now, he adjusted his tie and suit before clearing his throat.

    "A man straight to the point, I do like that. No need to cut chat, is there?" Deryck shrugged, leaning back comfortably in the chair. "Well, taking into consideration the time and money spent to procure such a rare item will be put into my asking price. I need to make some profit as well, you know," he commented with a grin x his arms folded in front of him.

    He sighed, leaned forward and opened the briefcase before turning it towards them. Nestled in a bed of velvet and bubble wrap sat jewel, oval in shape and roughly tend inchea in length. One half was a brilliant white, smooth and perfect with silver lines. The other half was black, rough, and slightly cracked. Within the cracks a deep red color sparkled.

    "There's been extensive research done on this stone, as well. It's a strange mixture of Howlite and Opal on the white side. And the black they found was black Opal and onyx, wirh justhe a hint of ruby. A lot of people say it's cursed too, but whos to say right?"

    He let them look it over a moment, before speaking once more. "My offer to you is 1.4 million. It's worth quite more, obviously. What did you have in mind?" He asked them, looking between them both.
  18. Tristan glanced at his dad, waiting for him to finish the man's sentence and remind him of his name. He did so, uttering a low, "Felix," in response. It wasn't good etiquette to forget a business partner's name, let alone make it evident to that person in such a manner. To be honest, the curator was rather offended, but he needed this artifact, so he kept it hidden.

    Upon seeing the briefcase, Felix's heartrate skyrocketed. He eyeballed it, but shifted to keep his gaze on the Deryck fellow as he spoke. Once the case was opened, however, Felix was reminded of the reason he had fought so hard to try and get the relic back. It was beautiful, but it was also more than that. It was shrouded in mystery and Felix wanted to be the one to solve it.

    Tristan was the one who spoke then, concerning the curse the man mentioned almost as an aside. "I've heard about that. It really is fascinating," he commented, scrutinizing the jem more closely. "Difficult to imagine something so beautiful being cursed, isn't it?" Not only that, but he didn't exactly believe in the like himself, though he always found superstitions and similar beliefs to be incredibly interesting.

    Then came the asking price, and even Tristan's heart stopped for a moment. Felix would agree to any price. That wasn't in question. This had become an obsession for him; almost unhealthily so. That was what scared Tristan. He didn't want his father to let this one artifact ruin all that he's built up.

    "You're right," Felix eventually muttered. "This jewel is highly valuable and you're offering it for a generous price." Tristan sighed softly, but tried not to get in his father's way. If this was what he wanted then he would let him make the decision. But then, to his surprise, the curator spoke again. "Would you mind if I talked to my son for a moment?"

    He blinked for a second, but promptly stood, following his father a short ways away where they were just out of earshot. "This is a catastrophe," Felix began, in what could only be described as a forced whisper: a voice barely contained and which wanted to be far louder than it was. Tristan raised his hands in assurance, glancing over his father's shoulder at Deryck's back.

    "How much do we have in our coffers?" he asked him, attempting to recall the number himself as he spoke.

    "One million. That's four-hundred thousand short, Tristan. And he won't haggle. It's the only one of its kind and he knows it. I know his type."

    It had been a long time since Tristan had seen his father so worked up. He felt terrible about it, but there was something he could do.

    "Use my savings," he resolved, nodding. "There's enough in there to supplement what we have for the museum. And... I can buy my own place anytime. The apartment is fine. I'm in no rush, and this might be your last chance."

    Felix knew he was right, but to take money from his own son...

    "Thank you, Tristan," he eventually replied. "I'm sorry."

    They exchanged half-smiles and then made their way back to the table, where after seating themselves they replied in unison, "It's a deal."
  19. Deryck looked to Tristan ad he spoke, a smirk forming on his lips. "Even beauty can hide dangers, you know," Deryck commented, a look of remembrance showing in his eyes. "But I hardly believe in such things so I never bothered finding out if any of it were true."

    He watched as Felix struggled over the decision. He nodded, waving his hands as they excused themselves to discuss the matter at hand. Glancing down at his watch he tapped it a few times.

    Barely over hearing their conversation, he leaned over, running a finger along the gem. He smirked again, knowing deep down the true secrets held within, but he needed to be rid of it. As beatific and rare as it was, the energy required to keep up the spells drained him immensely.

    Deryck looked back up as the two approached again. Hearin their acceptance of his offer, he stood and walked over shaking Tristan's hand first, then Felix's followed by a gentle pat on the back. "Brilliant! There will be headlines of this, I am sure! 'Local curator aquires Stone of Evasoul' sounds like a nice title, I think? The crowds will be crawling all over the place just to get a peek at it."
  20. Felix showed a shaky smile. This had been his goal for the longest time. He should feel great about finally accomplishing it, but the means made it very difficult to. There was no way he could ever repay Tristan; not for how much this was really worth to him. Part of him wanted to tell the man he changed his mind, and that he couldn't stand for nor pay such a ridiculous price. But, the other part of him knew that he would never do it. He just sighed and took the handshake Deryck offered, nodding at him as both he and his son rose to their feet. "It will definitely be a boon to activity," he agreed, trying to look on the bright side.

    "Well," Tristan then spoke, clasping his hands together. "I suppose that's that." The gem wasn't truly theirs until they made the exchange of funds for it, but Tristan took the liberty of closing the case, and gesturing with his head toward his father to then say to Deryck, "Felix will give you the money, if you'll just follow him. Thanks again." And with that, he took the handle and made his way toward the museum's basement storage for processing. They couldn't just throw it up on display right away. There was a lot more to it than that. But more than anything, Tristan might not have been so assertive about the item had the seller not given him a so utterly... dubious... feeling. He had to make certain the man wouldn't go back on the deal and snatch the artifact away again.

    When his son made off with the stone, he gave a reassuring smile to Deryck. "Right then, come this way," he told him, placing a hand on his shoulder. They went on the deal with the little matter of payment, and by the time they reached the first floor behind Tristan, he had already begun his descent to the floor below. Once he was there, he popped the case back open as he laid it on a table. Flicking on a nearby desk lamp, he gave the jewel a quick inspection. The white side reflected the light almost blindingly, whereas all but the bits of ruby that laced the onyx end seemingly swallowed it. It really was a mesmerizing sight to behold.