RP:Flank Hoags With a Side of Scheming, Please
Part of the Seven Dwarves All Around Me Arc
This is a Rogue's Guild RP.
Previous scene: Dressing the Part
Summary: Leoxander and his glamored partner-in-crime "Rona" refuel at a well-known dive on the dime, and discuss their plans to rob the nearby bank.
Broken Barrel Inn
The laws of the land do not apply to this establishment, yet somehow there is order among chaos. Aged, abused by the weather, the Broken Barren Inn stands defiantly against the stormy shores of Rynvale just off the dock, but it is a place far from welcoming. The split, oak carved sign hangs sideways on only one chain, irony not quite lost in the words tarnished by rain. Through that open door barely sitting on it’s hinges, the light of a blazing fire reflects across a dingy interior made to look more wealthy with trinkets. The walls are covered with artifacts and cheap glamour from other worldly locations and ports; rusted weapons and sea-monster fishing lure, ship wheels, a gold-braided rope, the mounted bones of an aquatic creature with seven limbs, tapestries and carvings of various culture, and instruments that no one could know how to play. Centering all of this is Redbeard’s Maiden, herself: a sultry, golden-haired mermaid bust with red painted lips and a beckoning smile, caught in a net draped to the rafters. Mounted to the wall not far behind, a fish-like tail adorned by flawlessly painted emerald scales stretches out behind her. For every first tankard bought in the Broken Barrel she is afforded a salute, a custom that Simon, the bar’s general, has not allowed to die over the years. Dominating the center of this room is an impressive four-sided bar, flanked by booths along all ways, each lit by a hanging candelabra of worked iron. Gatherings of shady sailors and outlaws collect in groups, keeping the atmosphere noisy with harmonica and bagpipe while others plot their next dastardly scheme. While invited to venture upstairs, wandering toward the cellar door might earn you a few dirty looks.
Leoxander walked the rest of the way mostly in silence, turning over thoughts in his head and doing what he could to steer his brain away from memories of celebration in the loft apartment. A nod afforded to her reassuring words as the dusty windowed building of the Broken Barrel came into view. If it ever occupied any kind of crowd, it wouldn’t be in the middle of the day, but nevertheless he approached the front door to check if it was unlocked. Somewhat caught off guard when it opened, the tables were, as expected, empty, but some pans clattered in the back and even more to his surprise, a grayed, familiar figure stood behind the bar in a slouch with a suspicious glare that shifted, as after all those years, Leo’s face was not a face easily forgotten in Rynvale. The man stood more upright from his lean and muttered something about the ‘Maiden’s drooping…’ well, that mermaid sculpture had a few obvious and eye-catching details carved into it, however layered with dust and worn with age the immortal siren may be. Leo chuffed a sound in his chest like the breath of an amused laugh, touching the index digit of his right hand to brow in a gesture of a half arsed salute, which caused some gruff chuckle in return from Simon. “Still afloat.” He exchanged the reassurance in reply to the barkeeps statement of disbelief, who was already retrieving a bottle he didn’t offer most of the scoundrels or ‘landlubbers’ that passed through. “Anything but the gruel.” The pirate requested, knowing better, resulting in a holler toward the kitchen for some ‘flank hoags and chips’, along with a curious demand for ‘the good meat’ while he poured two large tumblers of amber-gold. He placed the vessel between them at third seat from the end, one marked with old shotglass rim stains and an anarchy like A carved at the front edge of that wrap around surface. “Good t’see ye back, Cap’n. Figured your bones for fish fodder.” Simon drawled with a wink to his raven haired company, a few stained teeth revealing a jagged grin that a stern look from the rogue banished away. “Ain’t that lucky.” Leo’s low quirk caused the tender to slap the bar before he disappeared into the back, knowing that with the pirate it was always business or booze. He dropped his bag on the stool at one side and waited for Eleanor, or ‘Rona’ to find the other. Picking up that poured glass, he offered Redbeard’s wooden, finned mistress her owed salute, then waited to tap the double to his partner’s glass to tilt it back. It stung, but was smoother than the alcohol they’d consumed the night before. “Safe to speak here. I been payin’ that blaggard to keep his mouth shut more years’n I’ve known you. Where do we start?”
Eleanor had been playing it out in her head as they walked the distantly-familiar streets. It had been bouncing around her head for days, the only thing that took her thoughts away from the impending heist were, of course, the rogue at her side, at whom she regularly regarded askance under the silky dark bangs. She tried to conceal her unease, focusing on what she could do rather than what she couldn't; but there was little solace she found in the knowledge that the hag refused to step on the cursed island. El certainly had some ideas as to why that was, but she also lacked physical proof the hag was even a bonafide witch and not just another imposter vying for the thorned throne of the underworld. Truth be told, if anyone understood the masks one wears, it was the green-eyed minx, her lips curling impishly when they approached the Barrel. Her steps were surefooted the deeper into the role she drifted, her confidence or returning, or was it merely another facade? With Eleanor, who really knew; well, one might. He usually did. Just before crossing the threshold into the Inn, she glanced back, toward the shadows that narrowed under the high sun. The woman released a measured exhale and prepared for the change in security. She followed Leo in silence at first, her head listing to the side, clearly finding amusement in the exchange Leo shared with the barkeep. Her own experiences with Simon were certainly less informal, but it was a young, hotheaded blonde the other was likely to remember, not the beguiling but tight-lipped brunette who sashayed toward the bar in the pirate's wake. 'Rona' slid easily onto a barstool alongside Leo, crossing one thigh over the other. Peeking out from the hem of the skirt was one of her blades, which she gracefully concealed with a smooth spread of her palm, giving the fabric a subtle adjustment. She remained silent all through the order and even after they chinked their glasses and she took a generous swallow, setting the glass down but not releasing it from her gloved grasp just yet. She was staring at Leo now and struggling to subdue the chuffed grin pulling at her full lips. "Is that so?" At last, her careful speech came forth, carrying with it a tone that was maybe more than a little teasing underneath the deliberate syllables. "Well, in /that/ case …" Eleanor pulled her steady seafoam gaze away from Leo just enough to stumble around the empty bar and back again. "To start with—" The tiniest roll of the R and she drew in a deep breath. They had time to perfect the patterns, or so she told herself. "We will go into the bank here with the intent of opening an account — a security box." The corner of her mouth twitched. "I have in my possession a very valuable ring, you see." Her eyes flashed at their little joke, and she withdrew from the glass to markedly fidget with the royal engagement ring through her glove. At that point, she angled her chin down, observing Leoxander through lashes that were darker than their usual hue to match the tamed waves that framed her face. "And Ah ... need to ensure it is kept somewhere safe."
Leoxander lowered his gaze a moment to catch the flash of skin and steel before it was draped in fabric between pouring a refill into twin glassware. No use making life changing criminal plans while sober. “Here?” He asked, emphasizing the word. “Figured you had a mark for Cenril or something. Not much worth to the vaults since the high ends shipped out. Doubt this place has more ‘en a guard gone rogue left on the map.” The patrol that had taken over since his untimely death and departure - he hadn’t caught a whiff of them since his return. Even before the accident in the office that put him out of business for a near three seasons of a full turn. As if to make some slight irk known, his still quick hands attempted to snatch the ring from her fidgeting fingers in a tease and inspection of it. Now he understood, once she finished up with her reasons. No one would seek to rob or rile a broke bank. “An’ why exactly is this damned thing so important?” He asked, handing it back to her if he’d managed to steal it in the first place. A motion halted her response for a few seconds as the door on swivel hinges moved, more out of instinct than distrust, and Simon’s cook with ‘drooping’ assets of her own to rival Redbeard’s maiden dropped two plates in front of them, without any interest or regard for the captain or his ‘broad’. She clasped up a bottle of her own as the older, squat woman lacking a corset or likely any uplifting garments disappeared back to her station with some distant clatter and bantering of voices between herself and the barkeep. Maybe a pot of wasted gruel had been thrown. Leo glanced in that direction, but ignored it as he looked to their meals, thin strips of steak in peppered gravy with grilled toast and as the pirate enjoyed, some melted cheese, along with some thin crisped potatoes and some grilled onions piled between. A meal of champions, when it came to that repressed place.
Eleanor relinquished the ring without issue, but she clucked her tongue against the roof of her mouth. "Well … besides being worth at least my weight in gold —" And she was no skinny twig, meat, and muscle molded into curves that were struggling against the bounds of Lita's corset with each pass of her breath. "It will hopefully get us inside the vault without … arousing suspicion. There are no' many rich folks here, perhaps, bu' I know another box is kept there. Within it, we will find what we need." The woman rolled her shoulders in an overly casual shrug, allowing the arrival of food to distract them from the plan, for now. The spellrogue's gaze shifted sidelong toward the barmaid with quiet, reserved distrust. It was nothing personal, but she waited until she and the wolf were left to their own devices once more before continuing. The food was definitely drawing a few glances from El, and her stomach rumbled in response. Still, she left her plate untouched a moment longer. "An' if their pathetic excuse for a guard … decides they can handle us, wee criminals ... " El lowered her hand, pulling a playing card out of the belt-of-many-things, and slid it across the bar toward the pirate, using the plates to shield it from prying eyes. One side was etched in a dark, moody blue with wispy, circular designs across its surface in silver and gold ink. The reverse side of the card displayed the queen of hearts. What separated it from a normal playing card was the addition of a third eye painted on her forehead. "We shall make sure they think /she/ is responsible." It was only then that she made a fuss over the food, even if she kept herself aware of Leo, his proximity, his reaction, and any words he had to share.
Leoxander couldn’t display the same reservation, as he hadn’t had more than a bite of bird over spit in a good week, save that poor desert lizard, and he collected his uncut sandwich in two handfuls as she collected the ring back into her possession. The toast crunched between his canine enhanced teeth as he took a large bite, drips of gravy and bits of meat toppling onto his plate while he followed it with a fingerful of grilled onion and watched the card slide close to getting splattered with some of those toppings. He washed the chewed bite down and wiped his chin with the back of his hand to study the design. “What good’s that gonna do if she ain’t known around here? Nobody on this bloody island gonna take interest in something that don’t carry reward with it.” It wasn’t that he didn’t trust the Fox’s plans, but he was ever the one to challenge any and all detail, with so many bounties under his belt. “Tell me this is jus’ a distraction to the main course.” He added, before another hungry bite had his sandwich half finished, a snap of hard cooked skin on potato added in before he poured himself a third round. The fact his appetite was there and that he walk talking was a good sign. Leo clearly wasn’t dreading the task ahead. “An’ what’s this gonna do?” He motioned to the card but didn’t touch it. He’d had his dose of her magic and still didn’t know what his newfound tattoo was capable of.
Eleanor was eating slower than Leo, not for lack of hunger, but as she chewed on thoughts more than food. "She'll be known," she assured him, although the woman would be lying if she said she didn't have misgivings on the plan. A fragile scheme that had been set in action weeks, maybe even months before. "Maybe … no' righ' away," the rogue added, a sly gleam returning to her pale-eyed stare. She held her gaze steady for a few beats as he devoured the meal. "Ah … didna' know what you may have heard, or— saw this year." El struggled to keep her words clear even as she continued to be reticent over the details, clearly working through her trust issues as best she could. Laying her palm flat over the card, she added with guarded care, "Bu' this is no' the first card Ah will ha' left, no' will it be th' last." The accent was coming back, despite her best efforts. She skirted her gaze away, swiping the card back in the process and returning it to her belt for safekeeping. After a few bites of her own food, she finished off her drink, relishing in the relative warmth that joined the still-present feeling in her chest, before adding on a tense sigh. "If Ah canno' fin' her, Ah'll lure her out if Ah ha' to."
Leoxander was most of the way through his sandwich and licking his fingers of gravy before he spoke again. “We’re gonna need a trail to draw some attention. She came for the cat, and you were close with her before. You got anything we can plant? It’ll move things along quicker than the time we got if we’re gonna save that ruddy beast. She’s gonna use her for bait.” Truth be known, he’d actually grown somewhat fond of the tiger, and although the oracle’s downfall was key, he secretly wanted to see her home to his previous lover, safe. “She gets pressure on her she’s more likely to slip up tryin’ to cover her trail.” He was falling back into rogue status more easily than he’d expected, so fresh out of fur. “You might be the best bait, but she’ll be expectin’ that. She might come for me if she knows you still…” Leo’s words faltered, there. Was he so willing to risk his own hide for that outcome? He didn’t even need to second guess. “You get what I mean. Moment she knows we’re working together, I might as well be another beast in a runed cage.” As if the notion didn’t affect him, he took another bite of chips and onions and finished his third drink before pouring his fourth, as well as hers, a shot behind.
Eleanor's eyes subtly flared, and she sucked in a deep breath. "No, Ah— no' anythin' we wan' to risk gettin' back into 'er hands, that is." The cursed pain stick almost called out to her at the nudge her thoughts took in that direction. "To tell ye th' truth," she continued, tearing her conflicted eyes away from the pirate to focus on her drink. She took the glass in her hand, swirling the contents almost speculatively, the amber swirling around in familiar patterns. "I didn' intend to leave any witnesses, only th' card." /She/ wouldn't. Her nostrils flared, and she blinked a few times, downing her drink and riding out the burning wince that followed. Returning the glass to the bar, her hand lingered around it, as did her attention. "Yer already puttin' yerself at risk, she's gonna find out abou' us eventually." As the words came tumbling out into the open, she risked trying to meet Leo's gaze, her head tilted to the side and luring a few of Rona's dark waves to shadow her cheek. There were so many types of 'us' layered beneath the phrase, and something about it coaxed a curl to her lips, although the look she gave the other rogue was chilly. "An' she'll no' get you," she told him, her voice dropping in tone but adopting an edge akin to her dagger's. "Ah will kill Tuna myself afore tha' happens."
Leoxander read her gaze with a dark look of his own, any joy from a full stomach surpassed. He nudged his nearly cleared plate aside with inked knuckles and met her eyes. “Don’t underestimate me, Fox. I’ve dealt with worse than her kind, before.” Death, itself, but in person and in fated outcome. Here he was, the resurrected nuisance of the world, in league with kings, queens, mercenaries and the darkest of corrupt. But once again, he’d chose her side as his station. “We call the birds to nest if we gotta. This can’t carry on. An’ I don’t believe for a moment she’s the one to take us down.” He tinked his full tumbler to her empty one significantly. “You say we got days, let’s make the most of this one. First we find her, then maybe we find my ship.” Making their dire goal seem like just a checkmark on the list, he nudged his jaw toward her barely touched meal. “You’re gonna need your strength. Unless you want me to tell that crone her cookin’ ain’t ripe enough for you. You’re fightin’ her. Guessin’ poor Simon’s already wearin’ her gruel.’
Eleanor emphatically shook her head, and for a heartbeat, her expression was shadowed, her mind a flash of misplaced images. Focusing on Leo again, she murmured, "I dornt." Swallowing, she flung a wary glance toward the kitchens, then back to the pirate. "I jus' do no' want you to underestimate her, either." Her features softened, and she spared the other rogue a wry half-smile. "Aye, lotsa birds in th' shadows …" the rogue leader confessed, finally sharing a sliver of details about her operation with the man at her side, in more ways than one. "A few ye may remember, a few new to take underwing." At that point, she canted her head, regarding Hound with an acute stare, searching the fathomless blue pair as she considered her next words with an ever-present guardedness joined by a hopeful glint in her green eyes. "You called me … Crow earlier, bu' instead, I think it is you who should take up such a mantle — or Shrike if that is your fancy." The dark-haired thief lowered her chin in a meaningful nod. She turned away to fuss over her food, albeit relying more on drink refills than the sandwich to fill her unsettled stomach. By the time either was finished, the buzzing in her head had finally ebbed to nothing more than a faint rumble, a tolerable offense. Even the edgy twist in her chest had been slowly replaced with giddiness when she inclined an expectant look toward Leo once more.
Leoxander was aware the concern in her tone, and it didn’t agitate him like it might have coming from anyone else, but it didn’t stop him from slightly rolling his eyes with a subtle shake of his head. He kept her glass full so long as she complied to a few bites, though he paused mid pour when she brought up the titles of crow and shirk. Filling his own glass beside hers, he set the half drained bottle between them and turned the tumbler thoughtfully with his fingers, his gaze fixed on the glass. Of course he knew exactly what she was offering, having been there in the beginning when murders of crows and meetings in the belfry inspired the theme that kept their business concealed. “You know I ain’t good with crowds…” Those words were muttered as his eyes lifted to chance a lock on her cerulean stare, the lines in his jaw tense. He recalled the gathering in the basement of his warehouse and felt the impact of intimidation from those not as well broken or familiar with the pirate as were the antecedents of the Eternity crew. Unable to hold that look for long, his attention lowered almost as though some sting of guilt rose up from his chest and tightened his throat, but he took another pull of rum to swallow it back down and cleared it with a gruff cough behind his compressed lips, until he bothered to add, “Think it might be better for your flock if I keep my distance.”
Eleanor's brows fell into a furrow, and she delivered a measured exhale, doing her best to conceal her disappointment. It was fruitless, however, as her words soon outbid the effort. "Daingead, Leo." Tearing her shadowed stare away to concentrate on drink, and plenty of it, she digested his denial of the position being offered to him, her mind exploring the words both spoken and hiding beyond the layers of their complicated history. Drawing in a breath she hoped didn't betray just what she was feeling, she returned her gaze to the wolf. "Ye cannae suggest we 'call th' birds' when ye refuse to be one." It was El speaking to him now, no longer bothering to mask her words for the struggle it would take. "Ah'm tryin' t'gie ye a place, nae jus' as a... " Sighing, she turned away from him again, seeking out the bottle to pour herself another, which she uncrossed her legs and rose from the stool to finish off. Giving the corset a quick adjustment, she muttered, "Ah need a smoke." Let's be honest, El needed a lot of things, but at least this one luxury she could afford right now. Her hand settled on Leo's thigh, and she lifted her eyes toward his. "It coods be /our/ flock." Having said all she was going to on the matter, she started to leave, but not before giving his leg a slight squeeze and gathering a few gold pieces from gods-knew-where to deposit on the weathered bar top out of gratitude. "Ah'll meet ye outside." The pensive woman still kept her voice low when she tacked on, "We hae one more stop afore …" Though subtle, a dimple had been coaxed out at the edge of her nebulous smirk when she, at last, started weaving through the tables toward the exit, her hands fishing around in her belt for the hand-rolled cigarettes.
Leoxander’s once again pure blue eyes lifted through the hair that had unraveled enough from knots to hang over his eyes in a few dark blond stands as she clasped the muscle in his thigh, accepting her words in silence. A deep breath was inhaled and sighed back out through his nose, while he lingered in his seat just a moment more to finish what was in his glass. Finally, he stood, respecting the establishment and it’s keepers enough to collect the wooden plates and what scraps were left for the alley strays, along with the payment she unnecessarily afforded, clattering dishes into a bin and handing over the gold to Simon personally. A nod answered the tender’s reminder to keep an eye behind him as he shouldered his pack and helped himself to the bottle, fingers wrapped around the neck and the cork left behind. As he pushed open the door with an arm he took another drink of the sweetened and spiced liquor, a trickle escaping down his stubbled chin as he demanded of the dark haired beauty. “Gimme one o’ those, eh?” Or share, as she was often coaxed or inclined to do. Her words were echoing in his head… ‘Ours’... she’d said. And the blatant truth that he had no right to expect help or trust from a posse he was not part of had merit. It wasn’t until he had that smoke, his own and hers, between his lips and lacing it with the taste of rum that he spoke around it, taking a draw and pinching it from his mouth after, “Where to?” He exhaled the smoke with a check on the sun’s position and the color of the sky to determine how many hours of the day they had left. As quiet and abandoned as that territory might seem, and as sure as the rogue was of the streets, Rynvale was no safe haven in the night.