To Leave or Stay

Discussion in 'ROLEPLAY GRAVEYARD' started by Esthalia, Oct 29, 2013.

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  1. Mac wasn't really used to all the husstle and bussle of a town, considering she had been spending most her time out in the woods, hunting and living away from all the nastyness that was humanity. It'd been a long time since she needed to come into town for supplies, but today was the day and she wasn't going to waste her time. With an empty cannister in her one hand and another tied to her backpack, Mac kicked up the dust as she strode down the road.

    The folks surrounding the plaza would stop and stare, doing double takes at the lovely hermit. Most women would whisper to one another, wondering what a girl like that was doing out in the woods by herself, why in all that was right she didn't find herself fit enough to stand around the rest of them. But it wasn't the people that Mac didn't like, it was the way the town worked, the way the people treated eachother based off their roles within it. Living on her own left her to her own devices and no one elses.
    A callosed hand pushed on the worn wooden door of the trade shop, forcing it and fitting her strong shoulders inside. The rusted bell that dangled above the structer jingled, catching the attentions of the store owner and his clerk.

    "'Morning Mac! Nice to see you decided to grace us with your presence!" The dark haired woman behind the counter laughed, placing a gloved hand on her curvacious hip. The store manager shushed her quickly, stepping out in front of Mac to help her with the load.

    "I'm assumin' you've come for the usual?" The withered and graying man tightened his jaw as he picked up the cannister that Mac made look so light. He struggled with it for a moment before setting it on the floor. "You brought the usual today too?"

    Mac turned up her deep brown eyes, looking out behind the short curtain of even darker brown hair. "Naw sir, got some choice cuts of meat this time. I got lucky findin' a couple bucks out in the thick; easy catch when their so busy fightin' eachother." She smiled, showcasing a set of straight teeth; surprisingly all still there.
    The old man's eyes lit up as Mac removed her backpack, pulling back the zipper and withdrawing several bundles in thick brown paper all tied with twine. "Enough to get me what need for a couple months I'm sure?" Mac smiled, hinting at the necesities she had come for.

    "Well sure! Always a pleasure doin' business with you Mac! Of course; Of course! With that the little man was off gathering the usual: Paper, water and grain.
     
  2. Finally, Forver has arrived at the city he hoped would serve as his salvation, probably the only place that was safe from the insane followers of Ariom. Having been chased through countless villages, forests and towns in the little time that has gone by since he was murdered, the young, slightly short man hoped that this one was outside their area of influence. Besides, this city had many relics for him to explore, not to mention the ancient forest outside of the city grounds that has been vaguely charted by Nevil Airon. Of course, much had change since then, and from the way that the city looked, it has been hundreds of years since the advanturer had visited here, which provided Forver with a great opportunity to scout out the old stone buildings or to take a look at the mechanisms of the clockwork tower described by Nevil's journal, which was thought to be a magical contsruct at the time of the explorer. But first, Forver needed to find a place to stay as the sky was getting dark and he did not like the rain.

    Though Forver was probably the most conspicious person in the city, he did not even notice the eyes that looked at him. The best way to describe Forver was that he was a young man in his early twenties surrounded by a strange aura that felt simply unnatural, as if every one of his movements has been calculated to look nearly the same. He was slightly shorter than most people his age, but the crystal clear, red eyes made up for that with their thousand yard stares, framed by short, raven black hair. The fact that he was dressed in black trousers, a black shirt with a strange, red symbol on it did not help either, but the strangest piece of his attire was probably the coat he wore. Located somewhere between a tailcoat and a greatcoat, the black piece of clothing had a gold trim, as well as several complex patterns embroidered into its surface with blood-coloured threads. The coat was not buttoned up, leaving its silver buttons visibile that looked as works of art even from quite a distance away, they depicted various gods of knowledge.

    Under the arm of Forver was an immense book. Almost as large as the man himself, the book was black as if to match the clothes of the young man and it had a heavy-looking wooden covered covered in intertwining, vine-like patterns complimented by figures of deities and geometrical shapes. That was probably the object that drew most eyes, but one look at Forver, and several thiefs decided that it would be a bad idea to steal it. Because strange symbols usually meant mages. And mages usually meant fire. Which usually meant a world of hurt. But still, the attire of Forver was as such that even though this city was huge, he would no doubt be found by the men of Ariom soon.

    Of course, the young man was too taken by the architecture and too lost in his search for lodgings to notice any of that. He had already noted several practical methods of buildings structures high, mentally taking them apart by the components as formulae ran through his head, the equations of Lenae Invas once again proving their reliability and genius. It was really unfortunate that she was not recognised by her own time, but for Forver, her formulas meant the world when it came to buildings. For who-knows how long, Forver spent his time by mentally going over every single building in the city to see the practical applications of the equations, often surprised by the additional supports that formulae failed to include or a building style which should not have worked at all.

    It was then he noticed the trade shop. From his short time in the world, Forver knew that people frequented shops like this often, so it may have some information about where he could find a cheap inn. Putting the architecture aside for now, Forver made his way to the trade shop of the plaza.
    "Good day," he said, his massive book under one arm as he waited for the owners and the young woman inside to finish their business.
     
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  3. A small amount of time had passed as Mac leaned against the wooden windowsil and observed the older man work. His assistant, who Mac knew to be his raven haired daughter, was doing her part in tallying up the items that he was trading with the woodswoman; scribbling down on parchment the quantities that went back into Mac's pack.

    It didn't take long for the young woman's pointed nose to turn upward at the traveller that greeted the room on his arrival. Painted lips parting to pinch up into a feline smirk. Playful as it was, Mac recognized the woman's cheating expression. Of course she would try and get as much coin out of the man as possible, considering she had never seen him before.

    "Welcome sir, what can we do for ya?" A tilt of her head to expose her milky neck was a very flirtatious move for the shopkeep's daughter, making Mac want to roll her eyes and give a most audible sigh. "Lookin' for something in particular?"

    There was a creek from the floorboards as she moved around the counter, sashaying her wide hips and swaying her skirt over the dusted ground. "I assure you we've got everything you could -ever- need."

    How pathetic.

    Mac stood there with her booted ankles crossed, picking at her teeth in a surprisingly uncaring fashion. One would suppose, growing up in the woods would leave a person with little to no reservation. The hermit crossed her muscular arms across her chest, fitted to her body and pressing inward against what little breast she had.

    Looking out under a curtain of brown handcut bangs, Mac studied the short statured man. Surely if she had ever seen him before, she would remember. Especially someone with such a unique and aclectic style. Someone with eyes like that...Mac thought, would never be forgotten.

    It took a moment for the tanned and freckled woman to look away, tossling her dark brown hair with a dirty, calloused hand before moving her gaze back to the man who was preparing her purchase. Best to keep quiet now while she waited. Right?
     
    #3 Esthalia, Oct 29, 2013
    Last edited: Nov 7, 2013
  4. The flirtatious moves were discarded without a second glance, but to say that they were ignored would be an understatement, or more accurately, a lie, because Forver just looked through them as if they were not even there. Not even a faint look of recognition passed across his red eyes that always seemed to possess a thousand-yard stare and he stole absolutely no glances at any part of the shopkeeper's body. It was as if he was a statue of stone, not a living human being, such deep was the lack of reaction from him. It was, to put it simply, unnatural. Forver, though, for his part, was as polite as ever, taking in the room, but not the flirtatious woman with his eyes as if he regarded the wares that he wanted to buy, then his eyes landed firmly on the shopkeeper's daughter. They have passed over Mac, but for all that was worth; it might have been an illusion.

    "I am seeking a place to sleep for the night," said Forver simply to the daughter of the shopkeeper, whom he assumed to be the shopkeeper herself. "I was informed that I could acquire information about that here," he continued, then he closed his mouth. And that was it. The lack of even subtle motions or body language was, to say the least, unnerving. When that was coupled with the fact that he wore clothes that reminded one of a mage, it worked as a very good deterrent against people who would have attacked him, not that he really noticed it in the first place. At least his voice seemed to be relatively normal, but if one paid close attention to it, it was just a bit too even, too precise, as if the rules of pronouncation were followed to the letter for each word.

    Of course, even though it seemed that he ignored everything that was happening in this place, that was not true. He could see Mac picking her teeth and the woman behind the counter move, but he simply had no reaction to what they did. He could not help it that to the outside world, it appeared that he was not even trying to consider them, because that was his nature.
     
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