RP:Of Actresses and Theives
Summary: Alvina gets mixed up with a crazy thief in the Cenril Market District and has to use her awesome actress skills to hide Ansel in the crowd. This is their first encounter.
Cenril Market
Alvina stood in the evening air of Cenril’s market district. Beads of light fed through the cloth at the stall she was examining, weaving back and forth with the slight wind that tussled her hair as she stared. “These necklaces are beautiful,” the bard remarked in awe to the shop keeper, who seemed a little bored and slightly annoyed that the youth had not yet reached for her coin purse to purchase any wares. “Yes, Yes,” the stall keep acknowledged her wearily, before turning back to the wine she was sipping in the shade of her canvas overhang. Alvina tucked a stray strand of crimson behind her pale ear and chewed on her bottom lip thoughtfully, handling a few of the emerald – embedded silver pieces. “How much for these?” The bard chirped, turning it over in her good hand, relishing the cool touch of metal to her palm. Her question sparked the keep’s interest and sudden the business woman was a purring kitten, happy to answer her. “For you, my lovely, we will call it 50 gold pieces.” Blinking, Alvina looked at the necklace thoughtfully, paying no attention to the clamor of strangers in the surrounding stalls or crowded streets.
Ansel had just came from a back alley, the man was in a blue coat that tied around the waist with a belt, a hood covered his visage – his distinguishing features were disguised. His arms were partially wrapped with fabric and his ankles as well, something he would not usually wear. The wolf scanned left to right rapidly – his thoughts were quick. He then went left, towards the crimson haired woman’s direction. Not that she was his target. Suddenly, there was a loud, “Hey!” A hunky looking man with a beard came around the corner of the alley as well as Ansel sunk through the crowd of people. He had to stay calm, he would keep moving forward before hearing the words, “Stop the man in the hood!” Ansel would then cast a glance back quickly before running into Alvina and the vendor, stumbling a little. He would rip off his hood quickly before staring at the vendor and Alvina. He was young, shaggy short hair, a claw mark on his left cheekbone, and an odd patch of white hair on his head – birthmark. The wolf would then mutter to the pale woman. “Play along,” he was now hidden in the swarm of people – like the other civilians. “Love, let me pay for that necklace – anything you want, is yours,” he would speak a little loudly so the man who was searching Ansel down would not be suspicious. After all, the alley was dark, how would the bulky man know it was Ansel in that alley? Hazel eyes would scan the side, making sure the bulky man would brush past them. Ansel knew this woman would probably be offended, but then again, his butt was on the line.
Alvina jumped when the man ran into her. She’d been deep in thought, pondering her purchase, the vender too had been staring intently at Alvina in hopes of making some gold this evening. Neither seemed to notice that he was in the throes of a hot pursuit from the voice down the alleyway. It was hard to keep track of the coming and goings of anyone in the crowded market. At first, she stuttered in surprise. Her eyes darted across his face; emerald optics filled with questions. “O-of course…dear. I was just speaking with the good vender about a price…” Coughing, she struggles for dialogue to fill the time between this heart pounding second of confusion and the following answers she was sure to demand. “..Do you think it too sharply contrasts my hair?” Blinking her eyes, the bard will do her best to look in the direction her new ‘love’ appeared from, only to spot the burly man with the purposeful scowl, scanning the crowds. Most likely for him. ‘Well,’ the bard thought, ‘if I’m playing the role, I might as well.’ In a rush of theatrical encouragement, the woman threw her arms around the man to embrace him in a lovey dove fashion, albeit a bit too close for two strangers, in hopes that it might further convince the brute to head on his way. “Thank you!” she cried, happily making a fuss while the vendor stared with a confused expression.
Ansel stared at the necklaces before them, he was cool and collected now. His senses were clear, he can focus on the man storming about the crowd easily. The man would then listen to the woman before him, now staring at the vendor, and squinting at the jewelry. “No worries about the price, now,” he would then reach within the blue jacket and pull out a small black cloth bag, and pull out a few gold pieces. Hazel eyes would scan the woman before him, actually taking in her appearance. A long pause, a flat expression before realizing what was happening again, a wolfish grin would spread upon his chapped lips. “Not too sharply at all – gorgeous, honestly,” he smirked before handing over the gold pieces to the vendor. “This’ll do, yeah?” As he began to drop the coins, suddenly arms were being thrown around him, and he took a couple steps back with her on him – wider eyes. His arms would retreat back and wrap around her. Very close for two strangers, but Ansel would do whatever to save his own, he was only surprised she played along, he was very lucky, but then again, he owed the stranger. “Anything for you,” he was very hesitant, but the bulky man was now gone throughout the crowd. He relaxed in her arms before releasing her slowly, looking over the crowd on his toes now.
Alvina fussed about Ansel, taking the necklace and thanking the vender before taking his arm and moving him out of ear shot of the stall they just left. Her hands dart into her satchel and pull out the amount the wolf just paid for necklace with a half smirk. "I'm not sure what prompted you to come along and pretend to be my sweetheart," she said with a coy smile, "But I hope it got you out of trouble." Emerald optics then settle on his features as the bard looks the stranger over carefully. "Was it successful?" She asks him flatly, glancing around and seeing no one who posed any sort of immediate or obvious threat, the previous man nowhere in her sights. Threads of crimson hair clung to the bard's cheeks but she dusted them off thoughtlessly, keeping her steady stare back on the man at her side. "Take these pieces," In her palm she held the correct amount of gold coins, pushing her fingers flat so he could take them without much trouble. It was difficult to tell if the bard was still examining him or writing his back-story in her own mind, sending sympathetic waves towards him for some imagined tragedy; it was not uncommon for the woman to let her imagination run away without warning.
Ansel would gently place his hand over her hand as she took his arm. He would then slide his hazel gaze to her satchel. He waved his hand. “Oh, it got me out of trouble, all right.” He then halted and stepped in front of her. He knew she was analyzing him, but he brushed this off, she had every right. He then leaned closely to her ear, “Not a lick successful, but I did escape. Keep the coin,” he would then lean back with a flat expression as well. “I owe you,” he shrugged this off before continuing onward. “You played a mean role back there,” as in she was very enthusiastic and well portrayed. He was gazing around, he was still on the watch lately in Cenril and he was meaning to get back to Frostmaw to the clinic where he would be safe, but this would have to wait. “Now, how can I make this up to you?” He found himself gazing at her slightly, trying not to make this obvious that he was curious about her as well.
Alvina gave the man a half defeated smile as he refused to take the coin she offered. "I just happen to be a very wonderful performer," she said, throwing her hand up elbow high in a grand gesture of theatrical skill. Once her hand dropped, her lips furled into a keen smile and she just stared at him earnest instead of trying to continue sizing him up. "I just want to make sure I helped someone worthy of assistance. You aren't a thief of some sort are you?" Her eyes narrowed in mock suspicion, her metallic finger waggling in false accusation. "If you really want to pay me back, let me give you the coin, and how about you agree to accompany me out of this town. Cenril has gotten worse and worse since the war with the drow and elves. Thugs sprout right out of the market dirt." The bard shivered. Though she was clearly strong and capable, she was still prone to the cons and illusions of those seeking to trick her. "You can see why I asked," Her pale lips parted in laughter, noting his height against her own, "I'm as gullible as they come really." Here she paused, as if making a very important decision. "I'm Alvina, the Silver Bard." At the conclusion of the introduction, she would jut forward her fleshed arm as if to shake his hand, as was the custom as far as new acquaintances go.
Ansel ran a hand through his messy ashy hair, the man now gazing down at the metallic arm. He did not question, he continued without hesitation. “Thief?” He then smirked, “Yes and no,” he shrugged slightly before rolling his eyes for thought. “It was really a hit or miss type of thing – nasty habit. I’ve decided to stop… Needed something to get me back to where I came from…” He trailed, this was the truth. The tired looking man then gazed at her face for a brief second before looking forward. “Aye, right. Well, I’m on my way back to Frostmaw, I’ve actually volunteered assisting at the clinic for the war, I quite understand,” he paused, “I can get you wherever you need to go,” a firm nod. As she introduced herself, pale lips twisted with hesitation before speaking of his own. “Ansel Anesko,” he would extend his own hand and give her own a shake. “Bard, aye? What do you play?”
Alvina smiled, drawing in his honesty like a refreshing rain. Crimson locks tumble to and fro as she nods, listening intently. "It's a noble cause, to work in a clinic during the war. It's not ever soul that can tend to the wounded." She turns her thin frame away from him, smirking but looking towards their now know common direction. "It just so happens I'm bound for Frostmaw as well. I've been summoned to assist in the war as well, though not at the clinic. At the Eyrie instead. Of the healing variety." She laughed as she thought this whole affair over. "And I play the lute, the flute, and this rather odd thing here." With that, she points to her throat; joking that her voice is an instrument to be added to her list of skills. "Besides working at clinics and the occasional petty theft, what do you do with your time? Ansel?" She eyed him carefully, to make sure she pronounced his name correctly.
Ansel nodded slightly and shrugged. “Noble? I suppose,” he then added, “I’m not really doing it for any titles, I’m really doing this for my own skill. Hoping to get good enough to maybe run my own practice one day, but for now, I’m under Eleenin’s order,” he smiled crookedly before it faded into a flat line, he was taking in what she was saying to him. “You heal…?” He was intrigued, healing was no joke to him. This was his passion. He then smirked while she pointed towards her throat. “Right, well, I’m sure it’s rather entertaining. Music is good, I like music, I’m trying to get my boys into it,” he then flushed a little pale when he spoke of his sons, he then continued, “And that is what I do with my time. I’m also a father of a six and eight year old,” he was rather sheepish, but this faded, his face becoming stern. He was rather protective over his kin, the wolf in him kicking in. However, his boys were not lycans, he had been the only one of the three to possess this curse.
Alvina was all blush and girlie excitement as he mentions children. "I -adore- children!" She nearly screamed, stepping forward to clutch his rigid hands in her own warmly. The bard did not seem to understand the definition of personal space. "Please let me watch them if you ever need a sitter! Promise me!" Her joyful cries dissolved most of the other topics they had been discussing, except the issue of healing. "Yes, I've never been a fighter. But my bardic abilities have given me the blessing of healing those who can fight, and do, for the rescue of captives or to end wicked wars." The bard prompted her chin up with the palm of her metallic limb and sighed deeply. "Sometimes I think if my engagement had lasted I would be a mother by now." Her serious expression dissolved in an instant, and she was all the livelier for the second of seriousness. "Children are the most imaginative appreciators of music, I think." The smile she held on her face was wistful, reflective. "I would love to play for them some day. Come, my new friend! Let us find a ride out of here!" From her satchel, she pulls a goggled snow cap and a woolen scarf. "I know just the wyvern for the job." She winked, touching her necklace that she wore when they met, the other necklace that came into her possession because of their escapades was tucked safely in the confines of the satchel.
Ansel widened his dull hazel gaze at her reaction. He was not use to such excitement from almost a complete stranger. He was shocked that she was so relaxed with his behavior. As she clutched his hands, his shoulders began to tense a little. “I—I promise,” he let out a nervous chuckle before easing again. “Do you only use music for healing, or do you have other techniques as well?” As she began to speak of her engagement, his throat began to tighten as she analyzed her features. He would understand heartbreak clearly – he was a widower. “Ah, engaged…?” He then left it at that when her bubbliness came back to life. “Ah, I’m sure they would be pleased to meet you, they love music – as do I. I want to get my oldest to learn the mandolin. Something to keep him entertained,” he shrugged. ~Friend.~ That was new. He found himself hearing that a lot lately, and the word was foreign to him. “Ride…?” He would then grin at the word ‘wyvern’.
Ansel widened his dull hazel gaze at her reaction. He was not use to such excitement from almost a complete stranger. He was shocked that she was so relaxed with his behavior. As she clutched his hands, his shoulders began to tense a little. “I—I promise,” he let out a nervous chuckle before easing again. “Do you only use music for healing, or do you have other techniques as well?” As she began to speak of her engagement, his throat began to tighten as she analyzed her features. He would understand heartbreak clearly – he was a widower. “Ah, engaged…?” He then left it at that when her bubbliness came back to life. “Ah, I’m sure they would be pleased to meet you, they love music – as do I. I want to get my oldest to learn the mandolin. Something to keep him entertained,” he shrugged. ~Friend.~ That was new. He found himself hearing that a lot lately, and the word was foreign to him. “Ride…?” He would then grin at the word ‘wyvern’.
Ansel frowned. “Six years is a long time to be engaged,” he was blunt – that was Ansel, he could not help himself. He then moved onward with the woman, strolling through the sea breeze with the new acquaintance. “You seem rather young to be so experienced,” and he would hold his conversation until he approached the wyvern. It was strange to see the creature on a beach, his brows were quirked with confusion. This woman seemed rather laid back, he appreciated that. “Zi, aye? Ahoy!” He would give the creature a confident wave and a half smile. Show no fear. He would then flip his hood over his head. “Ready when you are, Al,” he seemed enthused, but when he realized what he had just said, he shook his head like a sheepish idiot. He would continue anyway even though he had shortened her name. This was almost better for him. He had always been terrible with names. Why not just butcher another one?
Alvina laughed, "You're telling me." A heavy sigh momentarily darkens the atmosphere around her. "I loved him, I really thought he would come back. I don't regret it." She said simply, "If I had left any sooner, I would have felt like I didn't deserve a finance in the first place but...that's another story for another time." Smiling, she watch Zi nudge against Ansel like a rather large puppy dog. The bard shakes her head, "Men," she adds, laughing all the while until the Wolf calls her Al. An immediately visible panic crosses her face and she looks down at her clothes and her arms. Had she transitioned?! She hadn't used that illusion in so long she'd nearly forgotten!! When it was apparent to her that she was indeed herself, and not her male bard persona, she smiled nervously with a light blush on her cheeks and hoped up on the back of the wyvern-like creature she so affectionately called Zi. "Let's go!" She'd lean over to offer Ansel a hand up, even though Zi was nearly flat against the stand for her own mounting. "I'm afraid that my age is also a rather long story but the short and long of it is I don't age, and no, I'm no kin to vampires." Realizing the explanation was very more on the short side when it probably needed a longer explanation made her shrug absentmindedly. Alvina didn't have secrets. She loved, she reached out, she touched people and made them uncomfortable, she healed, she worked metal and she sang. While she waited for Ansel to mount she looked at him carefully, "How old are you?" She so rudely felt the need to ask.
Ansel felt her pain, then again, he did not show it; he felt there was no need to. His love was dead. Finding her bloody corpse torn to shreds was enough for him, and to add to it all, he was cursed. “Ah, everyone deserves love,” he shrugged. This was true. Even if you were an evil beast, well, there was always someone else compatible, Ansel always thought. He then inhaled and exhaled, letting a small smile form to his lips as she spoke of the simple word “men”. He would shake his head before noticing the panic that was across her visage. Realizing that he had said the wrong nickname, he flushed a little. “Aye, lass, I’m sorry if I offended you. I’m horrible with names, and it just kinda slipped,” he laughed nervously with a shrug before grasping her hand to fling a leg over the creature. “You… don’t age?” That was confusing, and she was not a vampire. “You are very overly honest,” though, so was Ansel, to a point. He never wanted to inflict his agony on someone, so he never shared the worst of his life. That was trapped inside, probably needing to come out sooner or later to some sort of therapist, but for now, if he was sad, he would drink the pain away. Pain would come and go depending on the day. Today was a good day. Holding on steady to the wyvern, the man would pat Zi’s side gently before tilting his head to the side at her question. He would shift hazel dull eyes to the side, eyes would squint. “Ah, it’s been… two? Three? No two,” he paused in that thinking position before finally answering casually. “I’m twenty-six, soon to be twenty-seven here soon enough,” he would nod firmly. “If you don’t age… what is your… I guess, appearance age? When did you stop aging?” he was curious with his now quirked eyebrow.
Alvina didn’t see pain in his features, but she saw recollection. He was thinking very seriously about something he wasn’t saying. They would be leaving soon, so now didn’t seem to be the best time to strike up a serious conversation about either of their pasts. Everyone had some haunting story that’s ripped them apart. That they’ve had to rebuild themselves because of. She focused on his question of her age and grinned shamelessly. “I look to be a little younger than you, around....20ish? I think? I never get into trouble for being a teenager or anything.” The idea was ridiculous. “In actually, I’m closer to your age. 27 or 28 now I’d wager? There doesn’t seem much point in keeping track when it doesn’t show. Maybe I’ll have to explain it to my future boyfriend or husband.” Keep it light, she thought, and laughed. Not allowing the thought of outliving all the people she loved to enter her mind. “All right then! Enough chit chat! Back to Frostmaw with you stranger!” And with that, Zi fluttered his wings in recognition of her intentions and off they went.