RP:An Enigma in Ink

Synopsis: Trent stumbles upon Meri and Leone in the Grogshop.

Characters: Trent, Meri, Leone

Location: Gualon Grogshop

Date: Jan. 14th, 2014

Gualon Grogshop

Meri looked at Trent.

Leone gives a slow nod, head tilting to the side while spring green sights studied the fiesty blonde. "I'm always willing to let people study it. The most important thing is that they have to be kept clean, brands and scars. Branding can be far more difficult, unless you have a blacksmith to make custom irons on-hand. And the smell is gut-wrenching," the woman with raven hair whispers in a nearly conspiratorial tone to Meri, an oddly cheshire grin crossing her face like a cloud passing over the sun. "But I'll let you, and the owner of the shop, have a look if you're interested. I realize they're not usual form."

Trent enters into the Grogshop with caution, his cool gaze peering out from the deep black shadow of his hood in search of anything familiar. With thirst leading his actions, he tucks both hands into the pockets of his trench coat, and makes his way toward the western bar for a drink. "Ale."

Meri wasn't as confident about the idea of learning this form of body modification. A chuckle escapes the woman, trailed with a nod, "Well, I'm sure Lita'd be curious to see the art ya got goin' on, but as for studyin'...that somethin' that takes time and it ain't somethin' I take lightly either. I mess up and it's on ya for life." Meri shrugs hopelessly. Trent's entrance causes the woman to lift a brow in surprise, motioning for Mr. Solitude to join the two ladies where they are at the bar. "Hey there. Trent weren't it?" Meri and that lovely grammar of hers.

Leone runs a hand over the carved shoulder again, fingers trailing up the curve of her own neck to toy with the bloody divot there. "Perhaps I'll drop in some time, then. You said the shop is in Rynvale? Can you tell me where in relation to the Wharf?" There's a hopeful lift to the blacksmith's gravelly voice, though she quickly falls mute when the newly entered male is invited over.

Trent lifted his head as a familiar voice penetrated his ear drum. "Meri?" he asked, lifting to lower his hood. A light smile filtered through that stern expression with a nod in tow. "We meet again." To the additional party, Trent offers a polite wave and a "Hello", slowly making his way down to where they were situated. As his drink was laid upon the counter, the male tossed a few loose coin down and reached for the tankard with his armored hand. Without provocation, the metal fingers wrapped around the drink and immediately flung it at the farthest wall. The blonde man was stunned, slightly embarrassed, soon to comment, "I..uh. Don't know my own strength sometimes." A lie.

Meri wasn't entirely sure which wharf she was giving directions from but directions are put on pause when Trent just sort of throws his drink toward the wall, brow lofted. "Easy there, boy." The woman still wasn't entirely sure what to think. Back to Leone, "Well once ya get into Rynvale off the ship that comes in from Cenril, I mean it's just right there on that main street. Ya just go west once yer off the docks and the shop ain't too far down the road. Ya hit the gardens and ya have gone to far." Those baby blues drift between Leone, to Trent, then back again, "Anyway, this is Trent." She gestures to him, "I am Meri....And ya are?"

Leone leans backward at the display of accidental prowess from Trent, the farrier nearly falling off her stool. Able to regain her center of gravity and wipe the shocked look from her face, the woman turns lichen green sights toward Meri, the gem-like orbs nervously flickering back to Trent often, and nods at the tattoo artist's direction. "Right. Go west, gardens are too far. Are there normal shop hours? I'd really...." The sentence is suddenly truncated, calloused fingers flying up to the blacksmith's lips, as if to hold them closed, while Meri makes introductions. "Ah. I'm Leone," she finally answers in a tone far more reserved than her previously, animated conversational chatter.

Trent utters a small apology as he slips his left hand into his pocket. "One more please, I'll be careful this time." he offers the barkeep. "Pleasure." he replies next, when introductions are made. "May I get either of you anything?" It was an attempt in trying to be polite. A few more coin were put down as he leaned onto the counter, observation now upon the two as they communicated.

Meri picked up on the way Leone seemed less reserved and chatty. This was not one of those things you just blatantly questioned though, it made all parties uncomfortable. A reassuring grin is flashed toward Leone, "Not regular hours, no. But if ya send word, either of us will make time. We both got keys to the shop." Trent is regarded with a more skeptical look, shaking her head at his offer. "Nope, but thanks, Leone here shared her whiskey and I reckon I done hardly touched it. Have a seat though, have a drink. How have things bein' goin' since I seen ya last?"

Leone nods genially toward Trent's greeting, Meri having taken care of answering the question posed to the women, the blacksmith simply replies in as pleasant a tone as possible, "Pleasure to meet you. Both." The final word sends the raven haired woman's attention shifting between the duo of humans, finally coming to rest on Meri. Nods of understanding are shaken free as the blonde speaks, Leone herself piping up quickly, "Good. I'll do that." Again, the smith falls into a suspended silence, waiting while Meri and Trent catch up.

Trent made an attempt to be seated, it was a little awkward given one hand was still in his pocket. Still, with a little effort he was finally seated upon the stool. "Things have been ..the same. More or less. I have yet to find any answers of significance. I did find the library and have been pouring through tomes in hope of familiar history. Luck did find my way somewhat. It turns out that I have access to a ..bank vault..." The man felt a little odd as he glanced between the two women, noting Leone's short speech. "Also, I am sorry if I have intruded. I do not mean to interrupt your conversation. I can always come back another time." he offered, a nod then to the barkeep as he receives his drink.

Meri 's gaze drifted between Trent and Leone once more, letting these two decide how they would be getting along tonight. Leone seemed silent, uncomfortable with the male's presence, Meri was not entirely sure why. "I was just chatterin' 'bout Soulskin out in Rynvale," Meri says, not wanting to rattle on too much, hoping the tension might break between Trent and Leone. The word 'bank vault' definitely caught Meri's attention but she managed to contain her curiosity.

Leone shakes her head, a frown knitting her brow before viridian sights are directed to Trent. "No, you're not interrupting. I've only been here a short time, and am cautious until I figure out the dynamic between people. You two already seem familiar," the blacksmith says in an even tone, hoping this would suffice for explanation. "Actually, I'd appreciate it if either of you could suggest a place to stay for the night? I've never been in this city before," Leone inquires of the two, her attention bouncing between the pair.

Trent lifted a brow, the first of his reply for Meri. "Soulskin? What is this?" he asked, curiosity written clearly upon his face. A sip of the ale purchased would soon change his expression into one of utter disgust. It was easy to tell that he had suddenly found out that dark ale was not something he liked. To Leone he would then say, "I could not say, really. This too is my first time here. I knew not that this city existed until I met Meri." He looks to the blonde woman, his mind replaying the events of the night they crossed paths. "She will guide you to the right spot. She is very helpful." An affirmative nod followed.

Meri cracks a lopsided grin at Trent's reaction to the taste of ale, she chuckles and slides those baby blues back to Leone. Trent's boasting of her helpfulness is met with a roll of her eyes. "Shoot, there ain't really no Inn or nothin' 'round here to be honest with ya. Ya could make the trip to Cenril if ya want, but it's kinda a trek...and there are drow 'bout. Got attacked by a pair the other day...." She wasn't too helpful in that respect tonight. Cenril was not far off the night she met Trent. Back to Trent, Meri grins,"It's a tattoo parlor. Ya got yerself any ink?"

Leone begins to chew on the inside of her lip at this rather disappointing news. Trent is given a smile as he glows over Meri, the smile widening to a grin with Meri's renunciation of said review. Then, suddenly, an idea occurs to the farrier, and she sits bolt upright, spine straightening. "Oh! Is there a smithy in town? I'm sure I saw a forge earlier. I bet they'd let another blacksmith stay, for a day's work in return," the question is posed to Meri, considering Trent's previous statement of not knowing the city.

Trent reluctantly removed his left hand from the pocket that, in his paranoid mind, he felt was protecting everyone around from some sort of mishap. It was most likely all in his head, but he did not want to take too many chances. A pause, the metal laden hand was free. After a moment of no activity, Trent finally shifted so that the leather jacket slid down his shoulders, revealing the sleeveless charcoal undershirt that was his only protection. Upon unprotected arms lay two pieces of black ink; The left, a row of lines, each varying in thickness. Above those lines were a series of tiny symbols, their origin of an unknown scripture. Upon his right arm lay a runic symbol, with the Human letter of F and K on either side. "This is what I have found thus far." he offers. To Leone, a question, "Blacksmith? Have you done much work in these lands?"

Meri gestures to the building directly west of them, "Oh yeah. Just on the other side of the Grogshop, really. Connects with the stables. I reckon if they got an extra bed and yer willin' to work, they'd let ya stay. Kinda how it works 'round here. Hell, bet if ya talked to Tristram ya could get some steady work 'round here maybe. Just....stay on his good side. He's a dragon." And in Meri's opinion, dragons were very intimidating. When Trent reveals his tattoo, a brow is lifted and the inking is studied with curiosity but his words soon bring a mischievous gleam to her blues eyes, "Thus far, eh?" Bite your tongue, Meri!

Leone stands up from her stool, her first course of action to lean slightly forward, arms held side by side, unfurled so that the wrists were skyward, and in full view of both other humans in the tavern. Of course, Meri had already seen the blacksmith's runic tattoos, but now had come the time to share them with Trent, and the farrier points to each one of the sharp, angular forms in turn. "I can read these, they're in my language," Leone begins saying, the individual characters from her wrists matched against any similar ones on Trent's. "I've had some menial work, to earn coinage. Mostly shoeing horses, though," the ferrous female says, hoping that answered his question before she continued, "but before I arrived here, I was a weapon and armor smith, which is better known as a whitesmith. Higher quality materials and all that." A glance is given in the direction of the Forge, indicated by Meri, and the previous priestess looks toward the female first, "Dinner, tomorrow night, as a thanks for your help?" Sweeping to the side, the blond male is then addressed, "come and see me, you know where I'll be? I'll try to help." Not waiting for a response from either, the smitty gives one last, grandiose smile to the pair and makes her way out of the tavern.

Trent lowers his head slightly, bobbing in response. "Well, I can't really see my back. I tried, but it was very much pointless." Humor found, he chuckles. "Still it is maddening that I have yet to figure out what this means. Hopefully answers will turn up soon." With Leone's revelation, his expression turned to hope- That is, until she got up to leave. A simple thank you was offered to the parting party, his next words offered to Meri. "Nice woman. Perhaps she could tell me something about the crafted items I carry."

Meri doesn't think Trent is helping the situation. A brow is lofted as a grin pulls at those red lips, "Can't see yer back...." The woman mulls over this, waggling her brows playfully, "Well you know...Ain't really that hard to figure out if ya got ink work there...." Those baby blues slide toward the exit, apparently not really that intent on trying to find out if Trent has any back tattoos, Meri rising from the bar stool moments later. "I reckon she did seem like a nice woman. It was nice seein' ya, Trent. Come by again sometime, yeah?"

Trent lifts his hood to conceal his features, taking his turn to rise from his stool. "Indeed, I am sure we will meet again. Until then, fare well, Meri." Hands falling into his pockets, Trent exits the way he entered.