RP:Networking
Part of the The Seven Sins of Sagittae Arc
Summary: Seteth gains a new contact whilst lamenting the ineffectiveness of his first.
The Hanging Corpse Tavern
Seteth liked alcohol and until recently alcohol liked Seteth in return. The toxins which now flowed through his arms, reducing his agility and causing him sharp chronic headaches, had turned what were once manageable hangovers into full-blown crises. The thing of it was, Seteth did not care. The black rose shake he nursed — so named for the dark, rose-like grapes infused into the wine which accompanied the heavy cream — was going to hurt him later. His skull would throb and the veins in his arms would burn. All told, it was a small price to pay to take the edge off of his circumstances. Seteth had been a master thief until the day he had been outfoxed and poisoned. Now he was a slave to his masters’ will. And the only path to regain his freedom could be found here, in this land called Hollow, this alien soil with its unusually diverse population of perfect strangers. A young man took a seat beside Seteth and started to open his mouth but was cut off. “Not interested,” the thief told the prostitute. “You’ll have better fortunes with anyone else here save for Mesthak himself.” The young man barked some sort of dismissive sound and sauntered over to another table. “The more things change,” Seteth mumbled, “the more there is no shame.”
Penelope walks into the tavern with her hands buried in her purse. The woman looked scrambled with her frizzy, loose hair falling over her sun-dusted cheeks. “Where—“ the woman does not look up one bit. Most people slide out of her way. There is only one bump to her shoulder with one patron and moss-colored eyes look up, but do not take in the face of the other. “Sorry,” she mutters before sticking her nose back down. She shuffles until she hits a barstool. Her bag lifts and rests on the table, “Hi, Mesthak. I had, uh,” she digs, “a flier.” Her doe eyes look at the bartender. “A new one for the board, but I seemed to misplace it,” she gives him a sheepish smile. “While I’m here… do you have a slice of that chocolate pie?” Penelope was now a local. Mesthak smiles at the girl, nods, and pushes away from the bar-top to grab her a slice. For the meantime, Penelope finally comes to life and looks around. Eyes gaze over the patrons before she rises. "I'll be right back, Mesthak," she wanders to the board to get the details of recent events.
Seteth kept his vigilant emerald eyes on the tavern’s door as he waited for his local contact. He preferred thinking of August as a “local” contact because it kept his mind off of the fact that he had no other contacts at all. Still, it seemed the Kelay province was centrally-located within Hollow, and when it came to the acquisition of useful regional information it was all about location, location, location. When the tavern door swung open Seteth gave the newcomer a glance. The woman did not remotely resemble August. Disappointed, Seteth took a sip of his black rose shake and wondered whether or not he ought to risk asking the bartender for a refill. That new arrival walked up to Mesthak before the thief could so much as rise from his seat, and the effort of doing so weakened his hands. His legs, however, were in fine order and he almost ran into the woman on his way to the bar. “Apologies,” he said. It was then that the tavern door opened again, and this time Seteth’s contact was the one who opened it. Contrasting Seteth’s light, almost milky skin, thin frame, and green eyes and hair, August was a beast of a man with a heavy tan and ashen blond hair which covered much of his face in the form of a thick beard. The beard gave the man an appearance of more considerable years than he, in truth, possessed. “Seteth,” August tumbled loudly. Seteth sighed; so much for the agreed-upon quietness. His contact stood with his arms crossed next to the board on which the woman intended to hang her flier, prompting the thief to approach her inadvertently once again. “August,” Seteth replied somewhat coldly.
Penelope only gave the apology a small reassuring smile, and the man also received a double-take. Green hair was striking. The girl was pleased. That was what the whole flier was going to be about. Not dye, but natural beauty products, and much more. Sad she had forgotten that flier. Either way, eyes skim the board—missing people, a masquerade; the ball coming soon. As she hears the burly man, she looks over her shoulder and then at the green-haired man again. “Uh,” they come too close for comfort. Instead of saying anything, she waits before she could awkwardly shimmy out of the way. Her eyes continue to pretend to lock on the board. One would probably think she was a slow reader or a daydreamer.
Seteth could empathize with the woman — August was too close for comfort for them both. The thief attempted to lead the way back over to his table but his contact was either oblivious or disinterested. Instead, August patted Seteth harshly on the shoulder, which nearly sent the smaller man crumpling down onto the floor. It certainly hurt his arms in any case. “I found a wounded squirrel on my way here.” Seteth blinked. This was not even remotely the information what he had tasked August with procuring. “Is that why you’re late?” August shrugged. “Nah. I just didn’t feel like leaving the house so early is all.” Seteth grumbled. “It is nearly three o’clock already. It isn’t early. It isn’t even kind of early. If anything, it’s late. Like you.” August scratched at his beard, still blocking the woman’s way unwittingly. “Anyway, the squirrel didn’t have a tail anymore. So I cuddled it for a little while but it still seems sad. So it’s probably still injured. Hey,” August said to the woman. “Can you help a squirrel? It doesn’t have a tail anymore. It’s probably hurt because it seems sad.” Evidently, August was unaware that he had said all of this a meter from the woman already. “We aren’t here to help squirrels,” Seteth demurred. “I need your information on the amethyst.” August laughed and slammed Seteth on the shoulder all over again. The pain was considerable. “Just one squirrel, old friend. Just the one.”
Penelope was way too pressed against the reader’s board. As the big man talks about a squirrel, moss eyes squint with a cant of her head. He was so huge and rough, but he had such a heart for a little animal? Prejudice Penelope. The woman gazes over her shoulder, but then as to tilt her head up to look at the huge man. “I mean, I can’t grow a new tail…” The woman trails. “He probably just seems, uh,” pause, “dehumanized—uh… for a squirrel.” The freckled girl then clears her throat. “Can you move?” The girl then takes the initiative and shimmies out for space. “Maybe the squirrel is just sore and needs something to soothe the pain. I’m the owner of the local branch that is starting up Halifax Roots.” She looks at the man with a more confident gaze, but then looks hesitantly at Seteth. “Right, uh,” she shuffles through her big purse again while strands fall in her face. “I don’t know much about animals. Some oils can be poisonous depending, but I haven’t heard anything about juniper,” she then pulls out a small vial. “This is juniper berry oil. It’s for wound healing. It won’t help with muscles, but it will help the wound heal faster. I also have some lavender that will relax the little one, if you want it.”
Seteth could scarcely believe any of this was transpiring. He made a deliberate effort not to engage with people outside of his clients and contacts except when vitally necessary and he had not been prepared for such a necessity to arise when he was deep into his cup of ill-advisory. “We’ll gladly accept the juniper berry oil as well as lavender,” he said cordially. His emerald eyes remained fixed on August, however. The man owed him information, damn it. Even so, August wasn’t the brightest bulb of tulip in the garden, which meant the big man was probably ignorant to the fact that some form of recompense needed to be offered here. “Halifax Roots,” Seteth repeated the woman’s words. “If you wouldn’t mind, might you tell me what other sorts of materials you sell at this establishment of yours?” He tried to hand her several silvers for her supplies (and a few coppers for her patience). August took the oil and lavender gladly and rushed out the door to tend to the ‘dehumanized’ squirrel. Seteth remained. “I am Seteth, by the way.”
Penelope automatically hands the oils over as requested. “It’s an herbalist branch. Instead of magical mending, we focus on herbal medicine. Not just herbal medicine, but we also deal with any type of distress you have: stress, hair loss, muscle pain, and more. We are also trying to incorporate beauty products for the ladies.” She then holds up a finger and then points the digit towards Seteth realizing she was going off into a spiral. “Though, you said materials, apologies. We have roots, herbs, oils, salves. We have a pretty stocked variety of different things. We operate out of Yerrel’s Hut and we are slowly trying to branch off. I don’t know if you are going to the Mage’s Ball, but we will have a booth.” The woman digs in her bag again and pulls out a business card that has the information of Halifax Roots on it. “Nice to meet you, Seteth.” She extends the card to him, “I’m Penelope. Penelope Halifax, founder,” she says with a forming smile on her unpainted lips. The girl simply rejects the silvers headed her way. “No need,” she eyes August and then looks back at Seteth in an empathetic manner. “Consider it, samples,” she gives him a grin and a small wink before stuffing her hand into her long-coat pocket.
Seteth shook Penelope’s hand in return. He hadn’t looked into any mage’s balls, or entertainment events of any sort, since his arrival in Hollow. But where there were people, there were opportunities. Not for thieving (not until his arms were safely restored) but for networking. Seteth had asked this woman for the details of her shop so that he could deduce whether or not her services would be valuable to him. This mission to steal seven crystals from the land was going to be his most challenging one yet; he could feel it. Somehow he knew it wasn’t only because magical cuffs kept a portion of his body pumped with poisons. “I’m in the area for a lengthy excursion,” he told Penelope. “Tell me, when and where is this… ball? I can think of several reasons to attend.” In better spirits Seteth night have found a way to turn that sentence’s tone into something flirtatious, because flirtatiousness had its communicative advantages. The black rose shake was already working overtime to forge a fresh headache, however, and he just didn’t have it in him.
Penelope looked down at her chunky-soled boots and did a small click with her heels. “This weekend in Xalious. Information is on the board,” she lifts her chin to indicate the board behind her. “Plenty will be there,” she looks him up and down. “Free food, free drinks. What can possibly be worse?” She smiles crookedly before it quickly fades away at the shout of her name. The petite, frizzy haired girl turns to see a woman yelling at her for attention. As the woman walks over, Penelope tilts her head. “Vampires and illness?” She rocks back and forth on her heels in thought now. “Not a lot, though, I guess you’re too vague for me to really comprehend. Vampires are only tainted by other vampires, correct? Some blood disorder, I suppose,” she pauses. “Why so curious?”
Seteth nodded briskly. “Appreciated,” he said. “I intend to be there.” All thievery networks had their humble beginnings. His would be no different. He would seek the skilled and promise them rewards. Seteth may have lost his own pristine dexterity but he still had eyes to find the specialists in the world around him. “Thanks for the samples.” Formal speech didn’t come naturally to the green-haired man but he had long since learned to be verbally adaptive in life and Penelope Halifax struck him as a softer speaker than some. Now the woman was courting another conversation; Seteth saw no need to draw things out. “I’ll leave you to it.” He took notice of the board posting for the upcoming event and plotted how to fit the festivities into his plans. But first he finished off his beverage, allowing his burgeoning headache to take a fuller hold on his brain for the sake of the flavor and the numbness which followed. August reunited with Seteth just outside the tavern. “Turns out, the squirrel was tailless all along,” the big man said with a laugh. “Tailless squirrels… I guess there are all sorts of strange beasts in life, eh?” Seteth sighed and forced a tiny smile. “I have another task for you,” the thief said. “I am going to need better clothing.”