RP:Pre-Play Planning

Summary: In preparation for Mesdoram's play, Nariv starts making changes to Khitti's garden to accommodate for it, without actually getting Khitti's permission. Khitti finds out, and while things end up fine on the surface, there's something not quite savory going on behind the scenes.

The Goth Garden, Cenril

You enter your Gothic Garden… the one you own… to see many vendors and construction workers hammering and nailing away. Funny, you don’t remember signing off on any permits, talking to Nariv or Mesdoram greenlighting any modifications to your property, nor do you recall any discussion on how much the hostess will be profiting on this play directed by the drow… adding another reason to your list on why you would happily end his pathetic life. In the center of your garden, you see a well-dressed woman in a proper white dress, a head wrap securing her hair in a bun, and a clipboard with checklists for preparations and organizational reasons… you correctly assume this is Nariv, Mesdoram’s elven slave. She peers up to see you and kindly smiles and waves for you to come over as there is much to discuss: lighting, actors to hire, and the sheer nerve of her starting these plans without consulting you – the order of discussion points being in your court now.

Khitti, of course, had been woken up by the insanity that had been brewing in her garden all day. The fact that it woke up both of her children -and- her husband only made it worse. Why is it worse? Because Brand might as well be a werebear upon awakening. So, she got dressed, forewent coffee (also not a good idea) and went downstairs to be greeted by none other than Mesdoram’s slave. “Hi. Why are you here? Doing this? Now? I didn’t give approval for ANY of this. If there is a single flower--nay a single flower bed out of order after all of this is over with, I will personally boost myself up the list of people wanting to kill him and slit his throat myself and use his corpse to feed my plants.” She was clearly not kidding. The look in her exhausted eyes definitely said murder. “I don’t care how much money this play is supposedly going to make me. I had this garden built from scratch by someone who isn’t even here anymore and if it gets ruined, I won’t be pleased.”

Nariv’s sweet smile disappears into a confusing and mouth-agate demeanor with every enraged syllable escaping the angry Khitti’s mouth. She places two fingers in the corner of her mouth and whistles loudly while shouting “STOP!” for the workers to cease construction immediately – currently completed were 7 booths towards the entry way of the garden close to the bakery, markings and stakes in the ground to indicate where the stage will be erected, several rows of unfinished aisle seating facing the soon to be built stage, and promotional banners hanging around the Garden (messages ranging from the title of the play to sponsors and thank you messages for Khitti’s gracious nature to host the venue).

With everyone’s eyes locked in on both Nariv and Khitti, the elven slave attempts to explain the situation. “Mrs. Khitti, I cannot apologize profoundly enough… it would appear there has been a severe miscommunication between I and my master, Mesdoram.” She flips over several pages on her clipboard until she finds the ‘permit’ Mesdoram had given Nariv to start preparations. She removes the paper and offers to paper to the angry Khitti, trying to choose her words very carefully. “Is…. Is this not what you and Mesdoram agreed to?”

Were Khitti to read this fake permit, she would see words not in her hand writing that read: “I agree to these terms – build what you like. Make me money – you’re the best! – Khitti” Rereading the permit herself, Nariv now sees the problem… ‘You’re the best!’ seems a bit suspicious now.

Khitti winced at Nariv’s whistle and shouting, taking that small bit of time to compose herself enough to not seem like a raging Karen--whatever -that- is. The elf flipped through her paperwork, eventually finding the permit that Khitti had definitely not signed. “Nope, it’s not my signature. That looks like this.” She put a hand up in the air, gave a flick of her wrist, and her shadow-ink pen materialized out of nothingness. She hesitated a moment, but took the clipboard from Nariv briefly, scribbling her name out in the strange dark purple ink on a different paper so that the elf could compare. “I’m afraid you “master” is a liar, but…” She sighed and rubbed her eyes a bit. “Go over what’s what with me and maybe I’ll approve it. I’m serious about the flowers though. No harm comes to those or the furniture or the extremely expensive fountain. Give me a moment though. Do you drink coffee? Tea?” There’s a pause and yet another sigh. “And your workers’ lunch is on me.” Despite the fact that Mesdoram had tried to screw her over with this fake permit, she really didn’t need people spreading the word that she didn’t feed people that worked for her, whether directly or tangentially.

Nariv breathes a bit easier, matching Khitti’s calmer demeanor; the elven woman watches with great interest as Khitti begins writing her signature out of thin air and takes a mental ‘snapshot’ of the beautifully written ‘Khitti.’ Blinking several times at the magic, Nariv stores Khitti’s signature and on command could replicate the moniker to compare for future endeavors. “I am very sorry and you are most generous to pay for their lunches – they too were deceived by Mesdoram. I will personally promise none of your flower beds, the fountain , or anyone structure shall be tampered with.” ” Nariv’s heart rate begins to slow down from its frantic rhythm, and politely declines Khitti’s offer for tea. “I am currently trying to stay away from stimulates from drinks and smoke… someone has to balance out my master’s vices and properly supervise this operation… with your approval of course.” Trying not to overstep her boundaries again, Nariv explains to Khitti what has been completed (several promotional banners directing customers to Khitti’s baked goods to be stocked the booths constructed, several rows of seats set up in front of the half-finished stage) and hands her a brochure she has taken great care to make presentable to Khitti. “Basically, this outlines the acts, title of his play is ‘Two Sides to the Same Coin,’ and a pre-play survey on how the customer would like the play to end.” Flipping to the back of the brochure, she outlines the options of the survery: in a check-box format, customers will be able to choose one of four options; 1) ‘I wish to see Mesdoram die at the end; 2) I don’t care what happens to Mesdoram; 3) I want Mesdoram alive, but tortured for the rest of his life. Nariv anticipates some confusion to these options, and answers a possible preemptive question. “He wants the play to be dynamic and driven by the audience – sort of like a magician calling on a random audience member to help him with a trick. Now of course, this is only for what happens to him in the play – this survey would not carry out real-world repercussions… even if I want it so…” Realizing she said the quiet part out loud, Nariv immediately tries to back track. “I’m sorry! No… A slave shouldn’t say that about her master… please forgive me…” Nariv expresses shame for even suggesting this pipedream. “Is… did I explain the playwright's venues adequately? Or should I go further explain the preparations.”

Khitti just stared at Nariv as the elf went about explaining things to the redhead, the witch nodding away and trying to process everything properly. She looked over the brochure as the elf showed it to her, a single crimson brow raised at the questionnaire. When Nariv tried to predict the possibility of Khitti’s confusion, the witch only shrugged. “All of that seems pretty straightforward. Having crowd interaction is a huge part of a bard’s work, and as I myself am a bard, I get it.” After that matter is settled, Khitti can’t help but dwell on the bits about being Mesdoram’s slave, here and there, that Nariv has mentioned. “You may speak as freely about him as you wish around me. I don’t care, nor will I report it to him. But why is it that you have not left him yet? I see no chains on you. And clearly, he is not here to help keep an eye on you.” Unless he was, and Khitti just happened to miss the drunken drow staggering about. “Have you some bond with him now that will not allow you to leave?”

Nariv stares solemnly off to the side to the workers wrapping up their lunches as Khitti politely questions Nariv’s reasoning for staying (the foreman pointing up to the sun as if to say ‘we are losing daylight!’). She doesn’t quite trust Khitti, nor anyone, with the truthful answer, but does offer Khitti a somewhat surprising revelation. “Well, actually… I am technically freed from Mesdoram, but I do not know for how long… A woman named Meri and her husband Magik distracted Mesdoram and took me to safety in Kelay. I have not seen Mesdoram since that night…” There is a slight pause in her monologue as she stares back some workers standing up and thanking Khitti from a far – one of them saying “I’m coming back every day for this!” A slight smile breaches Nariv’s face as she returns her attention to Khitti.

“I don’t know if I can explain it properly…” Without meaning to, she rubs her forehead and reveals the bottom of her ‘SIN’ tattoo that was carved into her body so long ago. “… I am free, but I’ve been in servitude for 15 years… I despise him with every fiber of my being and want him dead…” A little vitriol seeps out in that last syllable before returning to a docile tone. “I’ve also put a lot of work into this play myself, so I want to see it play out to the bitter end… whatever that means for the rest of my life. Maybe seeing all the people there who equally hate him boo’ing him and wanting him dead will bring me some closure to move on.” With that said, many of the construction workers have resumed their labor. With a sudden “OH!” face, Nariv reaches into her backpack and pulls out a down payment for Khitti’s graciousness and patience – a sack filled with 50,000 gold coins. “Plus, giving away Mesdoram’s money is always a fun constellation prize for me.” With a large pack of coin now sitting at Khitti’s feet, Nariv smiles sweetly and waits for Khitti’s assessment.

Khitti tilted her head as she listened to Nariv. She smirked somewhat as Meri and Magik were mentioned, but kept quiet until the elf was finished. “I see. You’ve also met my sister then. But, I do understand what you’re saying. I only hope that one day you get to free yourself from him entirely. Until then…” The witch took the pouch from Nariv. If it was possible for there to be the alchemical symbol for gold shining in her olive-green eyes, it would be. “I am perfectly fine with taking his money, so long as you want to give it. Should I start charging him interest for it? It’s tempting, really.” A dismissive wave was given to the garden. “But, like I said, do what you must here. Just… try to be a little more quiet about it, don’t hurt the garden, and be careful about the customers. There’s already been enough construction going on to put a restaurant beneath it.” She shoved the pouch into a pocket in her dress and crossed her arms over her chest. “I’ll make sure to tell Victoria about the lunch and all that, so all they need to do is just go inside and order.” Khitti paused, squinting at the work being done amongst her precious plants. “If there’s nothing else, I’m going the hell back to bed.”

Nariv sweetly smiles and bows towards Khitti and offers some parting words before the redhead would start walking back to slumber land. “Thank you so much Mrs. Khitti. We will try to keep the noise down if we can.” Raising her head back normal, Nariv nods politely and starts walking back to the center of the Goth Garden. The elven woman begins going through her checklist and peering over to all the construction completed and the work yet to be done.

Crossing her ‘T’s’ and dotting her ‘I’s’, she then turns over to a mysterious paper with some interesting words and phrases… this piece of parchment seems different from the others in Nariv’s paperwork. It appears to be a contract of some sorts with a dark hex or curse embedded in the words as the paper dimly flickers red and green colors - periodically and randomly highlight important key phrases. The wording seems flimsy and vague and somewhat confusing… maybe by design from the creator of this cruel, vexing document. One of the highlighted phrases that catches Nariv’s attention over the others is ‘for one to suffer, 3 most go.’ A very cryptic and unclear clause with no futher explaination given… and below at the bottom of this contract is a blank line intended for the signature of the signee.

Waving her left hand over her clipboard, Nariv begins manifesting the name of whom will be bound to this sinister agreement… slowly but surely, the name ‘Khitti’ in her handwriting from earlier begins to fill in the blank. Having taken a perfect mental snapshot of the redhead’s unique way of writing her name, a flawless replication of Khitti’s signature appears upon the wicked parchment. Upon completion, a wry and small creepy smile adorns Nariv’s face and internally thinks to herself. “It really is a lovely signature.”