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RP:Caméléon

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Summary: Brennia seeks out members of the Rogues Guild and doesn’t find who she was looking for, but still found them nonetheless.

The Office

The Office is on the classier end of seedy cabaret/exotic dancing establishments. Which is to say that it boasts an actual chef, as in a person who studied to make food, and has enough bouncer presence on the floor to offer at least some low alcohol content beverages. Similar to other establishments of this nature, it's got your well lit stage, poles, a diverse cast of dancing women, and surrounding them a population of tables, velvet wing-back chairs, couches, and people who've got nothing better to do (most of them men). Along one of the walls, by the stage, is an opening into a narrow corridor that leads to the dressing rooms for the girls, a lived-in manager's office, and a door with a stairwell that descends to what must be a basement.



Brennia leaves her steed, Nauxnayme, outside before quickly showing away inside. Something was off as the woman’s seemingly white hair starts to fade back into its natural black and that rich mocha skin tone resurfacing. Brennia’s disguise was wearing off and she needed to duck inside, but she knew she wouldn’t find Hudson within because that was a long shot. She does hope to get some aid from Leoxander who she met once within the office when she got Hudson to help with her ink… This all feels so chaotic now that her troubles have become much larger than that and she stood in the dim lights of the club alone while looking off into the distance a moment until she was pulling her hood over her head. Passing by the manager’s office and attempting to peer in to see a familiar face while she was on her way to the washrooms. She would attempt to use more tonics on her skin and hair, but this night she was fresh out and all she had left to put on was perfume to mask the scent all avians give off (anyone’s favorite). If she were to go unnoticed she’d slip back out and make her way to the bar in hopes to run into either gentlemen.


Eleanor | Being that it was only a Tuesday night, the Office, although ‘open for business’, wasn’t nearly as busy as it was toward the weekend. At first, Brennia was just another patron, given nothing more than a passing glance from Eleanor’s favored booth, half-hidden though the spell-rogue was behind the alcove’s semi-transparent curtains. But the very smell of her - much to El’s chagrin, Brennia smelled familiarly of wolf - came to the woman’s magic-heightened senses and distorted her previously-uninterested features into confusion and intrigue. Martin, the skittish half-elf co-manager at her side, was silenced with the lifting of one inked palm, and El pushed herself from the booth to move through the tables and chairs, coming to the bar just as Brennia herself approached it. The spell-rogue wasn’t stupid - she knew the figure wasn’t Leoxander, although her olfactory tried to tell her otherwise, but when Brennia had re-emerged from the bathrooms smelling entirely different, El just couldn’t help herself. She vaguely recalled meeting the avian once upon a time, at this very same bar, and although she couldn’t immediately place the other woman, something was niggling at the back of her mind. Letting her curiosity get the better of her - as it was wont to do - El spoke up with those thick, husky timbres as she rearranged the cerulean fabric of her skirts; only slightly out of modest though, because let’s be honest - Eleanor was wearing a midriff-baring vest and a split-panel skirt that did little to hide the collection of azure tattoos up all four limbs, and curling around either side. “Tois whiskys, please.” The barkeep nodded to her, but El didn’t see it, her celadons glinting as she fixed them on the mostly-unfamiliar woman and gestured with a hand toward the stool beside her.


Brennia doesn’t recognize the woman right away, but took a seat either way in the quiet of the tavern. If one of those whiskeys were for Brennia it would remain untouched because after her death and with the memories of both her own and Raven’s now carried with her - she refrains from getting loose anymore. There are just too many dangers these days! That could be her newfound paranoia thinking though even though she’s placed her trust in few. Joining up with the healer’s guild and now she seeks the rogues, but she’s gotta keep on the move now for the journey ahead. Brennia shrugged off her cloak then instantly regretted it because even with her wings magicked away via the repurpose of her old ink she was still wearing a specially created blouse that left holes where wings ought to be. Matter-o-fact, the dark skinned and normally tattooed woman seemed free of any ink pattern at all and the only area the pattern emerged was on her back where those wings are supposed to be… Odd. She tries to nonchalantly place the cloak back on her shoulders to cover up her mistake, but she’s new at being all ‘incognito’! “Do you happen to know who runs this place these days?” Velvety and calm alto timbre greets Eleanor while heavy lidded teal eyes take in the woman’s features.


Eleanor watched Brennia remove and then return the cloak with veiled humor, a knowing smirk settling into the corner of her full lips. “Och aye,” the spell-rogue replied loftily. Reaching out to take one of the tumblers the barkeep left before them to take a swig of whisky, El relished in its burn; but truth be told, its fire was only just-barely potent enough to keep her demons at bay. Her hand remained curled around the glass, lowering it to her lap as she considered the woman’s question, lips twitching with tempered amusement. When she spoke again, El’s tone was coy, “Some blonde hen, thocht ye can fin' th' assistant manager ower thaur.” She lifted the glass to gesture toward the alcove she’d just left, where Martin sat fumbling over the reports El had abandoned. “He handles hirin' th' dancers.”


Brennia glances up at Eleanor’s hair, “a blonde you say?” Then she’s thinking Eleanor is suggesting she talk to the gentlemen in the alcove about hiring, but this elicits a rather plain, “I won’t be much use for that.” Odd, some might have been offended by such a suggestion - especially an avian, but Brennia doesn’t judge so the suggestion was met plainly. She takes a slow and deep breath, “hm… So, I guess Hudson and his friend, Leoxander, will be hard to find?” She kindly asks for some water from the bartender and he gives the woman a curious glance. “I guess if someone makes it their business to stay hidden then they would be,” she was mentioning Leoxander and his mention of rogues without openly talking of it in the middle of the club. Some burly guy slides on up next to Brennia to distastefully hit on her and Eleanor can probably sense it made the woman tense, but Brennia half smirked at the man while making eye contact. Whatever she spoke to him did not matter because her bardic notes worked in tandem with her words and it calmed the gentleman - so much so that he crossed his arms upon the countertop and proceeded to nap…. Someone could easily lift his coin pouch now if they wished, “I’m sorry…” she looked back to Eleanor.


Eleanor ‘s smirk faded at the mention of Hudson -and- Leoxander. Hudson was always ‘around’, but Leo on the other hand … The spell-rogue was studying Brennia quietly now, celadon twins narrowed subtly. “Noo wa woods a respectable lass loch yerself be lookin' fur them?” the spell-rogue replied, her tone lowered as a brow rose. She paid no attention to the man opposite Brennia - nor did she care about his coin purse; stealing from her customers didn’t bode well for business. Instead, she kept her guarded gaze on the avian. Discreetly, however, a bouncer was signaled, moving forward quietly to dispose of the drunk, napping patron.


Brennia glances around before answering, “let’s just say,” her tone hushes, “I could use their assistance in disappearing… Underground.” She shifts atop her seat a bit and remains sitting up right like she was making room for wings that are not there, “I’m sure you’ve heard of this new threat, Kahran?” Surely the woman would seeing as The Office is in the epicenter where the first of his attacks her, “let’s just say I may have royally angered one of his new lackeys…” Teal hues were glancing around again and she was certain she’d get a kink her in neck from how many times she’d done that already.


Eleanor ‘s head listed to a side, her gaze still shrewdly on the avian as she replied, “Och aye, Ah've heard ay th' bugger.” She was there at the Cenril election, and for reasons known only to her, she had allied herself with those opposing Kahran rather than taking advantage of the destruction his forces brought down upon Lithrydel. Brennia’s restiveness was not missed by the perceptive spell-rogue, and eventually she stood from the stool, taking both glasses of whisky now in her hands, before gesturing toward the corridor that would lead them to the manager’s office. As she passed by Brennia’s stool, the sonsie-bodied rogue leaned in to murmur slyly, “Ah main be able tae help ye.” An inconspicuous wink was delivered before she sashayed out of the main room and into the well-used manager’s office, leaving the door ajar as she took a seat on the edge of the desk - leaving a couple chairs and a disreputable couch vacant.


Brennia went with her gut on this one and followed the woman to the manager’s office. At a queue Brennia would have shut the door for privacy and opted to not sit on the couch, but rather a chair. “My name is Brennia Smyth and until February Fourth I was running for Senator of Schezerade after curing Lithrydel of all those curses merely days before that.” Her tongue gently felt at the small cut that still remained on her lip when a thug had head butted her in attempts to free her grasp of the jar… “But I lost the election and I have been banned, but this not-so-secret-anymore group, the Flewminati, are still after me to ensure I will never return to Schezerade and fight for my people… I’ve reduced to using potions, tonics and perfumes to disguise myself, and I’ve even reworked the enchanted ink that used to decorate my skin to hide my wings,” at this large black as night feathered wings sprout from the tattoo markings on her back. Eleanor might spot an area on her left wing that is vacant from feathers, but exposing a new and nasty scar. “I am afraid I need help,” she repeats an incantation and the wings shrink away once more. “And in return I can offer my services,” she surely hopes she’s talking to the right person.


Eleanor was comfortable on the desk, leaning back on one arm as she crossed a leg over the other, a pose she clearly took frequently when occupying the Office’s office. As Brennia revealed herself and her intentions, the guarded expression on her sunbrushed features broke into a smug grin, those seagreen eyes sparkling with amused self-satisfaction. “Ah can hide ye, Miss Smyth, nae problem,” her husky timbre rolled out confidently, before canting her head to a side again, her eyes on the avian like a predator sizing up its prey. The implied ‘but’ ensued in silence as El considered what she had already inferred as those ‘services’ - potions, tonics, and some kind of bardic ability. Her grin widened wickedly as the spell-rogued continued, “Whit sort ay ... services dae -ye- hink ye can offer -us-?” ‘Us.’ But there really wasn’t an ‘Us’ unless you counted the fact that Hudson and Leoxander still, technically, worked with her, although the chasms that divided her and the latter wolf were vast and complicated. Nevertheless, El didn’t believe in sharing her cards with the group too early in the game, as one might have noticed.


Brennia fell quiet, “Leoxander spoke of… Rogues and back then we planned to sort of work together. As a bard I can make most sleepy and the weaker fall asleep,” as before demonstrated, “this way you can slip by guards, make away with a valuable or plant evidence on a foe.” She thought a moment, “most times I can vibrate the frequency through sound waves in order to manipulate the tumblers within locks… I am planning on being on the road, always disguised and always listening. I need to be out there, gathering information, allies, strength via experience and one day I will get my home back. If I am aided in this quest, be sure to always count on me in the shadows for future endeavors.” She perked up and slipped a small bottle with a dropper within from a pocket of her cloak, it was the delechantment drug that Hudson made and this was the last of it, “I am not sure of what use this can be now, but it was all the bards college had left. I had commissioned this from Hudson after providing the rare ingredients… I plan to make more ‘beauty’ potions and things alike so my cover as a merchant is legitimised, but… I think if the rogues are into selling other things - I can do that for a time.”


Eleanor‘s grin flickered at the mention of Leoxander, but it remained put in the end; her gaze on the other hand hardened imperceptibly. Straightened where she sat on the desk, she folded her arms and regarded the bard quietly. At length, the spell-rogue offered up, “Ah can help ye, but Ah need tae sit puckle grin rules, ye kin?” A beat. “First aff, it willnae be Hudson ur Leoxander helpin' ye, it'll be me, sae quit throwin' their names aroond.” It was a good rule of thumb to have when going incognito; they had code names for a reason, but that would come in a moment. In the meantime, El soon added, “Ah can accept ye intae mah crew, an' by daein' sae, grant ye th' protection ye need.” Lifting one of her hands from their crossed position, she toyed almost idly with the disc-like medallion hanging from her neck. Its surface was unimportant to outsiders, whereby it was used to identify rogues-in-the-know; and with it came a disguise that would be much easier to tend to on the regular, versus the collection of aesthetic spells and the like Brennia currently employed. Whenever they were concluded, El would go and fetch a medallion for the avian, but for now, the guild leader was continuing with that same brogue tongue, “An' jist as Ah will be discreit abit yer needs, Ah expect yoo'll haud yer sheesht abit mine.” In other words, Eleanor needed to know that her task at keeping Brennia protected from Kahran’s men and the Flewminati wasn’t a vain attempt that would compromise all the work she’d put into the guild. She needed to know that she could trust Brennia not to spill guild secrets, and that Brennia would trust her in return. “Ye kin?”


Eleanor listened and watched Eleanor, “got it.” To the first part and she almost felt better putting her life in the hands of a fellow strong woman anyway. The second ground rule was easy enough to follow as well, “if I get caught, I am solely responsible and no one will be the wiser.” She greed with a fist over her own heart and a bow of her head - it was a noble sort of custom from where she is from. “I agree to these terms, Miss…” Brennia awaited for a name so she may properly ally herself to the rogue and her crew.


Eleanor angled her chin down in a nod, and upon lifting her gaze back to the avian, she replied with a simple, “Eleanur.” And then, a bit cheekily, she added, “Althoogh ... frae noo oan, ye shoods probably only caa me Fox.” The spell-rogue parted with a wink, before sliding off the desk edge, planting her feet firmly on the floor before wending her way around Brennia to the door. She pulled it open, motioning for the avian to follow her as she turned down the corridor before stopping at the basement door. It wasn’t locked, per se, but those without a key would still find it difficult to open it. For the sake of the scene, El’s medallion would have to do, and, ICly, Brennia would get her own once in the guild hall. Assuming Brennia was hot on her heels, El descended the stairs into the basement, and there, she was joined by Tuna, before she moved beyond the basement through the hidden door and into the den itself.


Brennia half smirked at the name in the cold seeming way she does, but after you’ve been in the afterlife it’s hard to express emotions well. “Beautiful name,” then the codename is offered, “fitting, Fox.” She nodded once and stood when instructed, yes she was hot on El’s heels and when she descended to the guild hall she glanced around at anything. Eventually heavy lidded eyes fall on Tuna and she felt Raven’s love of animals bubble up inside her, but she refrained for she doesn’t know her place here… She sure missed Queenie though. “Impressive,” was all she offered to the space and convenience of the hall under The Office. “Should I be coming up with one of those names, or are they given?” She ponders on what she would call herself or how she would fit in exactly.


Eleanor | Tuna was, by nature, a very curious cat, and she came right up to Brennia as they moved into the den, sniffing at her and eventually chuffing, half in guardedness and half in acceptance. Once they were in the den itself, Eun, El's blue crow, cawed from its perch on one of the practice dummies. Meanwhile, Eleanor moved further into the room, retrieving the hall's key: the shadow-laced disguise, which she handed to Brennia without ceremony. "Och aye - Yoo'll be wantin' tae come up wi' a body fur yerself." Then, she shrugged her shoulders casually, a lazy, wry grin pulling at her lips. "Some ay us chose animals, but it's nae mandatory." In the comfort of the subterranean hall - which would lead, rather conveniently, deep into Vailkrin if one went north - El pulled out a cigarette, sparking it alight with a summoned blue flame from one cupped palm. She had, before descending, taking up the curious vial Brennia had produced, and now lifted it to actually look at it. "Ye ken, if ye want tae pursue 'at lie ay merchant, Ah can sit up a meetin' wi' 'Borat' -" Hudson, naturally, as leader of their Stork division; so perhaps Huds could help her after all.


Brennia thought a long moment, held out her palm to Tuna as a measure of friendliness, but ‘no petting Brennia - no’ she has to tell herself. “Well… I’ll be drifting from town to town, changing my face almost on a daily basis while never taking the same routes and keeping off main roads. I think the only thing I could think of that fits is… Caméléon,” she finessed out in a Veretian (French) accent. Her suggestion of meeting with this Borat person is met with a nod, “as you command.” She had taken the Shadow-Laced Disguise.


Eleanor considered the name, but it was the way Brennia said it that seemed to perturb her. After a beat or three, she offered up a thoughtful, "Say it loch 'at, Miss Smyth, an' ye micht be foond it." Her lips twisted wryly, and she added, "But Ah dae hink Chameleon fits." Tuna had sniffed tentatively at the proffered hand before slinking closer to the practice dummies with the intention of antagonizing the blue crow found there still, its feathers ruffling at the tiger's approach. Eleanor took a drag of the cigarette before offering it up toward the newly-made member of the guild, a tempered smirk on her full lips. "Ye can bide haur when ye need tae, fur as lang as ye need tae. In th' meantime, Ah'll lit Borat ken tae reach it tae ye." Beat. "Until 'en, is thaur anythin' else ye need frae me?"


Brennia thought for only a few moments, “no, Fox.. I think I’ve occupied enough of your time, but do call on me if there is anything a Caméléon can do you for.” That half smirk given once more as she declines the smoke politely… Any shift in her etched expression was subtle and those that study the avain’s face longer than a glance would eventually pick up on her slight changes. “I’ll accept a bed here when I am in the area, but I must be off in the morning if that’s alright.” Brennia’s teal hues catch Eleanor’s gaze as she sincerely offers a, “thank you.”


Eleanor lowered her chin for a nod and a bit of a shrug as she lifted the smoke back up to her own lips. "Suit yerself. Ah'll be in tooch." That being said, the guild leader excused herself to head back upstairs to the club; she'd already left Martin alone with the reports for far too long.