RP:Spiders in the Dust
Summary: After running into each other at the Whalers’ Bar in Cenril, Eleanor and Leoxander hang out under a bridge on the edge of town to partake of some Firefly Steve. Things go downhill quickly though when it’s revealed that Leo’s allergic to pixie dust - the blue narcotic’s main ingredient. Spiders. Spiders everywhere! Thanks to some quick thinking on El’s part, Leo is branded with a rune to temper the autoimmune response of the dust, and in the aftermath of the scare, El decides he’s not such a bad sort after all. As the two rogues part ways, El is given a new nickname: Mermaid.
Whalers’ Bar, Cenril
Eleanor was in the back of the main room of the Whaler's bar, nursing a small glass of whiskey. Her left leg was tucked up under her right, and her left hand was under the table, curled around her calf. The rogue's right hand was on the table, near the tumbler but not actually touching it. There was a fresh scrape along her left temple, but the blood had already clotted, smeared down her left cheek. Despite the shallow gash, she appeared otherwise unmarred. As always, she wore the cerulean and leather materials that seemed to be the only garments she owned, and on her brow was that iron diadem, its runes catching the light of a nearby candle, the gem dull and inert. With a sigh, she reached for the glass and tipped back its contents with a few hearty swigs, before waving two fingers at a passing barmaid to re-fill it. The woman left with the tumbler, no doubt to return soon with its contents replenished. In the meantime, the woman's weary celadon eyes shifted around the bar, finding nothing entertaining in the scattering of patrons.
Leoxander didn't often loiter within the walls of Cenril, in the past. But the streets were no longer littered with wanted posters and sketches of his covered face. Guards didn't patrol looking for any excuse to throw him in a cell, and bounty hunters seemed to have retired or moved on across the waters. So it was an easy coincidence that the pirate had decided to give into his exhaustion and put himself in a room nearby for the night, now that he had some pocket change to do so. He pushed open the bar door, finally showered, so his hair wasn't a grimy, spiky mess though it was forever unruly and uncombed. He hadn't bothered to shave but only had a few days worth the stubble on his jaw, so far. And now, in relatively fresh clothing in that favored black color with decent rest behind him, he had some appetite again, or at least a definite thirst for rum. Sleeves were rolled almost to mid-arm to reveal some of several tattoos that covered from shoulders to knuckles; a scarred scorpion on his right forearm the most faded but also the most prominent. The collar of his shirt fell open a bit as he didn't bother to thread laces, revealing a glint of the silver chain that draped over the top of his sternum. Leather pants still fit loose on his lower torso, but the purchase of a belt kept him decent, cuffs bunched where they fell over well gripped boots with thick treads. Just a few steps in and he recognized his employer immediately, also quick to spot that bit of obvious blood on the side of her face. Her well being wasn't really his business, and it wasn't necessarily smart to be seen in public with the one who had hired him, but considering how empty the tavern was, he lingered at the bar long enough to order a bottle and glass with a lingering look her way. If she wanted company she'd give him some sort of gesture, otherwise he was satisfied stationed in a stool.
Eleanor recognized Leoxander immediately upon his entrance, and she lifted her chin, looking across the room at him through a curiously narrowed gaze. "Weel, swatch whit we hae haur ..." she mumbled to herself, arcing her left brow as a ghost of a smirk took hold of her lips. As he seemed to glance in her direction in return, she gestured loosely toward the booth opposite her, inviting him over without much ceremony. The barmaid returned then, interrupting her view of the pirate as she placed the tumbler in front of El, who quickly snatched it up to take a swig, using the back of her right hand to wipe away anything that had escaped her mouth. Nodding to the barmaid in dismissal, the other woman retreated to tend to the few other patrons. Without the woman obstructing her view, El returned those guarded celadon twins to "Leo", waiting to see if he would join her after all.
Leoxander exchanged a bit of coin and took up the bottle and glass in hand with a nod to the bar keep before he turned to make his way to Eleanor's booth. He set the glass down and took a moment to open the bottle of dark rum before he placed it at the middle of the table to indicate he was willing to share. She was the reason he was able to make the purchase, after all. Now that he was looking a little less like a homeless bum and more like a dark dressed denizen, it wasn't so difficult to stomach the idea of being seen in a public place. Leo slid into the opposite bench of the booth and helped himself to a pour from that bottle if she hadn't already claimed it to fill her tumbler, first. "Looks like you had yourself a scrap." The comment was casual. He wasn't sticking his nose into her business but maybe she didn't even know there was a smudge of dried blood on her face.
Eleanor let her gaze follow Leoxander as he made his way over to her, shifting away from him only to glance briefly toward the dark rum; she might partake of it, after her whiskey was finished, which she took a drink from as the male sat opposite her. Rather than make a remark about the state of her left temple, she shifted the topic to him instead. "Ye clean up nicely," she parted with, smirking.
Leoxander chuffed a breath like a silent, sarcastic laugh at her distracting comment, averting his eyes down to the glass as he poured rum to the brim. At least three shots worth, but once he set the bottle down he took up the tumbler and tossed it contents back like one oversized shot, adams apple rolling down the front of his stubble covered throat for a hard swallow. There was no wince in his eyes from the welcomed burn, but he had to take a moment to savor the taste that wasn't the bitter and cheap ale he could barely afford over the past few weeks. "Glad you approve." That was muttered in small talk as he set the glass down, glancing around the empty tavern before eyes veiled by overgrown hair settled back upon Eleanor. "I gotta question." She seemed to frequent that city, and probably heard her share of stories at the street faire and bars. "You know anythin' about the island out east?" Subtle. Incognito. He wasn't sure if she had recognized him as the pirate who had overrun Rynvale, once.
Eleanor had only been in these lands for about a year, and although she'd initially come to Rynvale before making camp in Cenril, she knew nothing of Leo or his past, nor of the island's colorful history. "Nae particularly," she replied, a smidge warily as she eyed her companion. "Wa dae ye ask?" While observing him, she took another swig of her own drink, finishing off the whiskey before moving to fill the glass with the dark rum Leoxander had provided. El took a small swig, testing its flavor before setting the tumbler down, curling both hands around it now. "Is thaur somethin' Ah shoods ken abit it?"
Leoxander gave a nonchalant shrug, his expression neutral. "You know better than most that I'm tryin' to get a few copper in pocket, an' I ain't lookin' for a handout. Figured there might be some trade to look into over the waters." Only when he had the chance to refill his own glass did he sit back into the booth in a more relaxed way, taking a little more time to enjoy his rum with a few swallows this time around. "Thought you might know more since you seem to appreciate collectin' information." And maybe she did. But it probably wouldn't come without a price, either way, so he dropped the topic as easily as she had moved on when he pointed out her injury.
Eleanor considered what Leoxander had said, and although she was hesitant, she drew in a deep breath and leaned forward. "Ah cannae teel ye anythin' abit Rynvale ... yit. But, Ah main be interested in openin' trade thaur ..." She looked around the bar, making sure no one was able to eavesdrop on their little conversation. Sending those glass-green eyes back to Leo, she went on to say with a lowered tone. "Ah main be interestin' in movin' product thaur. Ah dornt currently hae a connection, but ... if ye can fin' me a body, there's a lot ay gauld in it fur ye." The rogue leaned back, just as casual as her partner, and went on to add, "Unless yoo'd be interested in th' slave trade." It was a morally questionable idea to pose to him, but after Emelyan's recent admission that he'd already set up the market in Larket, well; a girl had to make it work for her.
Leoxander studied her with those sharp blue eyes, somewhat concealed by the fall of blonde in his gaze. He took the time to finish his second drink and held the glass on the table, empty, when she leaned forward to speak. Leo didn't bother to look too suspicious or get closer to speak, but he had a way of murmuring well enough that she could pick up on what he was saying. "Always good to have an investor to get things goin'." He didn't have a lot of gold to spend on making a market out of it. Nor did he know what had happened to his ship. But what he did have was an extensive knowledge of the island, corner to corner, or whatever was left of it since the departure of his pack. "I'd rather transport supplies than bodies, but it all depends on what's in demand." It wouldn't have been his first dealing with slaves, be them dead or alive, and he didn't seem entirely fazed by the idea of it. "If I can over there... I'll know whether or not there's a shot. Jus' heard it ain't always the most friendly port for new faces." His face wasn't exactly 'new', but that was the dilemma. If anyone did recognize him in Rynvale he likely wouldn't be greeted with a smile and a handshake.
Eleanor remained leaning back, her gaze steady on the male as she kept both hands curled around the mostly-untouched rum. "Whit dae ye ken abit ... Firefly Steve?" The blue dust had sparked a crime spree in Cenril, and while Emelyan's desire to spread their criminal activity outward had changed the situation a bit, peddling the blue powder was still her money-making enterprise, for now.
Leoxander squinted his eyes a bit. He had enough notches in his weapon belt to know about the underground and underbelly of society. But he'd been out of the game for a long time, now. Only recently was he finding the strength and humility to rent himself out for work. "Can't say I know what the hell you're talkin' about but I could take a wild guess. Either way, whatever makes the coins clink, savy?" Leo had done a lot worse than smuggle some illegal product in his years. True, the world seemed calmer, less in need of a quick working assassin, but he was too clever to think it would ever be gone, entirely. Just hidden. "Specialty of yours?" He did what he could to get some more information out of her about the subject without being too obvious.
Eleanor lifted up her tumbler and took a swig of the dark rum, eying Leo over its rim before slowly lowering it to the table once more. Once it was there, her left hand moved away from the tumbler, and under the table to her belt; when she lifted her hand again, she had a small clear baggy filled with a pale blue powdery substance. "Nae mah specialty, nae," she confessed quietly as she held the small baggy close to the tumbler, using the glass and its contents to at least partially conceal it from wandering eyes. "I'll lit ye tak' it fur a test rin, if yoo're interested tae ken whit yoo'd be gettin' intae." Those celadon eyes sparkled with humor and challenge; she hoped he'd say yes, as she was already itching to leave this joint behind for a more interesting locale. "Nae haur, thocht, ay coorse."
Leoxander calmly divided his attention between pouring himself another glass and the substance in her hand. Tempting, for certain, particularly with that glint in her eyes. But something about 'Firefly Steve' looked terrifyingly familiar. His memories, as foggy as they were, couldn't quite place it, and he absently scratched his knuckles in a way that suggested he had his habits and addictions in the past. The contents of his glass were dropped back in that one-shot technique again before his jaw lifted to acknowledge her offer. It wouldn't have been worth her time if there wasn't something profitable involved, or so he deciphered from what he knew about the woman, and his greed heavily outweighed his conscience, screaming a distant warning in the back of his mind. "Lead the way." The bottle would be corked and taken with, when they finally exited that booth.
Eleanor attempted to temper the pleased smirk that took hold of her lips. She eyed him curiously, though, especially the way he scratched his knuckles, and that smirk only grew, however subtly. Scooting from the booth, she left her own tumbler behind, but as she was standing at the end of the table, she down its contents in a singular gulp, before turning that glass-green gaze (perhaps slightly glossy in the wake of her day-drinking) toward the pirate. With a cheeky wink, she passed him by, sashaying confidently toward the door that would lead them from the briney establishment.
Leoxander ... was perhaps not human but he was a man, and couldn't quite help but look appreciatively after backside curves for the way she walked toward the door. The finer gender could easily be labeled as another habit that he had been deprived of for a long time, but a lot deadlier and harder to quit than any dust in a bag, and he knew better than to indulge beyond a glance. He had no shame in taking from that bottle as they walked, not really one for unnecessary conversation along the way.
Eleanor didn't need to engage in small talk as they walked either, and through the city they moved silently; her like a cat, and him like ... a wolf perhaps. She moved fluidly through any crowds, passing by people and bumping into them with innocuous grins even as she palmed their valuables, stuffing them into concealed pockets in her leather belt. Should Leo catch her sleight-of-hand, she'd flash him an innocent grin. Soon, they were on the outskirts of the city, and she traipsed along the dirt trail that would lead them into the noxious proximity of the sewage-river. She ducked under the bridge itself, safe from view of anyone traveling along it as she let the shadows embrace her before turning her glass-green gaze toward her companion with a roguish half-smile. "Ye can still change yer min', ye ken," she goaded, "if yoo're tay scared."
Under the Bridge, Cenril
Leoxander had survived his youth with the skill he witnessed as she walked ahead, so her sleight of hand was difficult for -him- to miss. But he had graduated from pick pocket to another class of criminal some time ago, and as desperate as he was he didn't really have the energy to gain his wealth a few coins at a time. Off the beaten path, he followed her under the bridge, an automatic search given at the spider webs nestled beneath to make certain there weren't any spiders too close to the spot he settled to. Once again drinking from that bottle, the sidelong glance he gave her said 'really?' when she teased him for being afraid. "I figure you've found enough use for me that you ain't about to poison me." How ironic those words could become. A leg stretched out while the other boot propped against a rock set into the hard soil as his attention turned to the bag she would undoubtedly reveal again. "Beyond the obvious... what's it do?"
Eleanor moved nearer to Leoxander -- not too close, but close enough to be within arm's reach -- and leaned against the bridge wall as well, her boots digging into the soft earth. Regarding his comment about her poisoning him, she was inclined to reply with, "Nae yit, at leest." Those eyes remained filled with mirth; the woman was mostly a jovial sort, always flirting, always teasing, when she wasn't all business. Since this encounter was a mixture of both, she had tempered the jests down a smidge, but you can't change a tiger's stripes. "Weel, fur starters, Ah loch tae hink it opens yer min'. Makes ye see th' warld a wee differently." She considered him in the half-light afforded by the evening glow, then went on to say, "Gits ye high as th' lift ay coorse." The spell blade palmed that little baggy with one hand, dumping its contents into the other, before using the first hand to draw a symbol in the dust. Once activated, it began to gleam and scintillate, catching whatever light it could and bouncing it back in an ethereal glow. Before letting Leo try it, she sprinkled some of it over her own head, the blue dust settling in her braids as if it belonged there. Then, she eyed her companion with a wolfish smirk, her right hand still filled with half the blue dust as she reached it out toward him. "Ye ready fur thes?"
Leoxander watched at that near proximity, feeling his chest and throat tighten a bit as soon as that symbol was drawn and 'Steve' came to life. Observing the strange manner in which she administered the dust, his brow was furrowed to match the uneasy frown that appeared naturally on his expression. Squinted eyes watered a bit before his head turned, and into the rolled up sleeve at the bend of his arm, he sneezed and sniffed and eventually focused back on the dust that seemed to fade into her golden hair. "I guess..." He didn't sound too enthusiastic. In fact, his voice sounded a bit withered, but he took another drink of rum to try to cure the tingle at the back of his throat with the burn of liquor.
Eleanor’s fingers curled around the activated dust as she eyed him with veiled concern. "Ye dornt hae tae, Leo," she said, using the name he'd given her before she added, "Nae a body is twistin' yer arm haur." She was giving him another chance to be free of the circumstance, and if he decided to decline, hell, she'd just take the whole dose herself. It wasn't new to her, after all, having been dusting-up for months now and having developed a bit of a tolerance. "Ah willnae hink onie less ay ye if ye dornt hink ye can handle it." While she was, more or less, a bad influence to those whom she surrounded herself with, she wasn't about to make anyone do anything they had serious reservations about.
Leoxander was growing more and more hesitant the longer she delayed. Intuition was warning him, telling him not to go through with it. And not so much because he had any sort of dislike or caution about numbing substances; he'd had his share of all kinds. But that glittering dust... the slight sting to his eyes, his tongue... it was all too familiar somehow. The dilemma was that he was sitting with a potential business partner and he needed the wealth. That sense of security, the weight in pocket, the weapons that he wanted made from the smithy-priestess. And so against all better judgement, he reached over with his fingers and said. "Jus' gimme it..." Rather than let her pour the whole dose, he took a good sized pinch of the blue powder in three fingers, feeling it burn right into the prints of his bandaged left hand. His other hand tightened in it's grip of the bottle and he started to mimic the way she had sprinkled it, but only a small bit actually dusted into his hair before the rest slipped out of his grip and fell in waste onto the front of his shirt and the dirt. The shaking started in a hand that fisted and he suddenly opened his mouth for air that he couldn't get hardly enough of, gasping as he felt his throat starting to close. At the same time, his senses tried to expel any and every speck that felt in his eyes, his nose, and just that small amount did in fact feel like it was 'opening his mind'. Or more so, tearing into his scalp like tiny pins being pushed into the nerves between his skull and skin. The bottle clattered as it fell - it didn't break but rum splashed and spilled over soil and stone as that hand clutched over his brow, eyes squeezing shut for the sudden ache and spin of vision. A hoarse groan of agony was pulled from his chest as the bad reaction was fairly instant. Clearly... he could not handle it.
Eleanor stepped away from the stone wall under the bridge to stand in front of Leo, perplexed at his reaction. "Well buck--" she cursed, feeling rather bad about it now that she could see how sensitive the lycan was to the powder. The powder clearly hit him a lot quicker and stronger than it hit her; but then again, her physiology and various tattoos were probably to blame for her high tolerance of any and all substances. Against her better judgment, she pocketed the pouch and reached out with both hands against Leo's shoulders to steady him, concern flickering across that otherwise devil-may-care face of hers. "Breathe ... jist breathe ..." the woman murmured to him, lips twisting in a partial grimace at his state. The bottle of rum was all but forgotten in the wake of Leo's condition, her focus now on the lycan. Unfortunately, there was no "undo" button on Firefly Steve, and the damage, however slight, was already done.
Leoxander did not seem to be having a bad 'trip', as it were. There was a redness spreading down his face from his brow and it was even darker on his fingertips where he had touched that pinch of pixie dust. Pixie dust. His memory clicked. And as he clutched a hand almost painfully into her arm while the other clutched his head, digging fingers into his temples, he coughed out some painful words. "...Pix-... pixie.... damnit." Perhaps an extra explicit word or two with it. He had his watering eyes closed too hard to see any lovely colors, and the numbness was meshed with the sting that felt like bees in his hair. The swelling would take time but if she had any knowledge on what it looked like, she may come to realize he was having an allergic reaction. If she touched him on his arms where clothing did not cover, the marks would show up rapidly over ink and skin. He tried to lean more into his arm than her, but between the coughing, the attempts to breathe, the trembling, he had to hold onto her for some stability. At least he hadn't consumed it internally, but still, his nose was running and his tongue and lungs tingled for what had been in the air that he had inhaled. And under the bridge, there was really nothing and no one to help.
Eleanor watched the growing reaction with that same concern twisting her features, and then as he spat out those words, she realized what in the nine hells was going on. Cursing a slew of words that rivaled his own, she gripped his shoulders, lending him the support he needed. She didn't exactly have the Hollow equivalent of an Epi Pen, but she did have something else -- a whole arsenal of arcane magic built up inside her. "Looks loch ye coods use a new tattoo," she grunted at him, withdrawing her right hand in order to grab the crystal-tipped wand at her hip. Her plan wasn't anything that would help him against his allergy in the long run, but with his permission, she would inscribe a rune that would at least lessen the effects for now. "Ah can either mark ye, ur Ah can tak' ye tae a healer." She'd leave it up to him, but her right hand still curled around the wand, the crystals slowly beginning to glow as she readied herself, just in case.
Leoxander was barely able to hear her over the 'bees' buzzing in his ears, and several welts were forming on his forehead under his bangs. Even if her hands were covered in dust, he realized enough to know that she had some magic capability, and even if he didn't know or necessarily trust it, his reaction was worse by the second. Desperately, he made certain his sleeve was up out of the way before offering his closer left arm, a nautical star on the back but he turned it over to expose the less tanned, vein showing part underneath his forearm. She might notice the scarred (perhaps self inflicted) remains of a thorny black design on his wrist, but there was plenty of room and conveniently, that side of the appendage there was hairless. A nod offered pleadingly as he pretty much hung off her shoulder, now, stooped and coughing into his other sleeve and perhaps a little on her, tears trickling down her bicep and stubble scratching her skin, since it appeared she did not have sleeves at all. She would either have to help him with that, or figure out how to haul a six foot, three inches tall man out from under a bridge and to some place that could help him, because he was having a fit trying to breathe, an allergic reaction and a slight high mixed together into a very unpleasant moment. Hours to go. Bloody hell.
Eleanor nodded. Tattoo it was. She looked down at his exposed flesh, and stepped closer to him, letting him put as much weight on her five-five frame as he needed to while she charged up the wand. It began to glow even brighter, humming with magic as she aimed it at his arm. "Thes micht hurt," she jested lightly, figuring it would be nothing compared to the current hell he had found himself in. She blamed herself for it, of course, and it was her duty to make it right. Criminal or not, she wasn't an altogether bad person. El paid little attention to the tears or stubble, instead focusing her might and magic into the conduit of her wand; with a crackle, a beam of blue-white light like a laser shot out of the tip of the wand, burning an azure sigil into the lycan's arm. It was small, no larger than a coin, and shaped like a celtic cross, lines twisting into each other and as soon as she had started, it was over. The mark was there, still glowing, and would likely remain glowing for the duration of the spell -- which would last a couple of days, depending on Leo's ability to process the magic. After which time, it would fade into nothingness, leaving the skin as bare as it was beforehand.
Leoxander didn't have much magic in his blood. Someone had found a trace, once, but it ended up being a destructive thing that he tempered with a brand and a bandage on that adjoined left palm. So he might glow a while, then. As for the swelling in his throat, it was quickly decreasing, allowing him to take deep breaths, shoulder blades heaving in his slouch against her. Welts would become red spots, but his eyes were still pretty swollen and he kept them closed as he felt whatever energy he had drained. What didn't wear off was the temporary high that lingered in his system, still in competition with an allergy. So while he was unable to see or breathe well, itching, red and a bit crippled, he was also a little drugged. That might be why it took him some extra time to pick himself up off her, sniffing as his nose continued to run, shivering as he sneezed into his sleeve now and again. "Jack...?" He said woozily, out of sorts, and looked half ready to fall asleep on her shoulder in time.
Eleanor had not expected this encounter to turn out quite so ... messily. Sure, she didn't mind getting dirty every once in awhile, but she wasn't used to someone practically leaning into her, snot smeared across her arm. Not that she necessarily minded; it's not like Leo was some random hobo grabbing onto her, and he was soft on the eyes -- as soft as a hardened pirate could be, she supposed. "Jack?" she repeated in confusion, although her expression softened as she saw the effects of her spell doing their job. El cursed, put away her wand now that its job was done, and she held onto the lycan with both hands now. She moved to ease him down onto the ground, intending to settle down beside him as her spell continued to work its magic, lessening the harsh effects of the pixie dust. "Ah didne ken," she confessed quietly. Didn't know that he'd react this way, and she felt wholly responsible for his current sad state. "Anythin' else Ah can dae fur ye?" Maybe they oughta move away from the sewer-river and somewhere more private while he dealt with himself.
Leoxander couldn't really fight as she rested him down in the dirt, smelling the wasted rum only partly on the dirt. But that meant he had some sense of smell. His chest still lurched with a few coughs here and there, and although she felt responsible, his mind berated himself with a 'you should have known better speech'. How did he not recognize that sparkling dust? Or remember the times when he had come in contact in the past? Images flooded his mind now when he had some miniature menace in his face and the big bad wolf was weak to a three inch tall threat. Bad pirate of the northeast, immobilized by fae folk. Traumatized by spiders. Sad, but true. But he was breathing, now, that rune glowing on his arm. He still looked pretty 'f-ed' up, to say the least. His eyes were swollen to the point they barely opened but her magic had him alive, at least. Still, he didn't look like he would be walking on his own anywhere anytime soon, which left him laying in the rum soaked soil beneath a bridge.
Eleanor sank onto the ground beside her drugged-up companion, a chuckle falling from those lips as she sought to find amusement in their situation. What a night this was turning into. She lifted a hand to scratch at her left temple, wincing subtly before she sent a sidelong glance toward the lycan. "Ye gonnae be alrecht thaur?" Looking past him, she saw the discarded bottle, and without his permission, she reached over him to salvage what she could of its contents; tipping it back, she got a mouthful of rum mixed with a little ... something else. El grimaced, but extended the bottle toward Leoxander anyway.
Leoxander perhaps displayed the one time, ever, in history, that he denied alcohol. He just didn't have much to do but lay there. He was no longer coughing or wheezing thanks to her rune, but he was now starting to feel a little euphoric as though he had been given some sort of pain medication, thanks to the rune and alchemy of 'Firefly Steve'. His eyes closed and he appeared to be trying to sleep in the soil under the bridge, his new clothing now dusted with bits of blue and dirt. Another, last sneeze went into his damp sleeve, where he wiped his nose of a bit of blood and snot. He still had not eaten all that day, and the shirt was showing his ribs, if that mattered at all.
Eleanor arced her brows, but pulled the bottle away, digging it upright in the dirt between them in case he changed his mind. In the meantime, she nudged him with an elbow and a playful, “Dornt ye daur faa asleep oan me. Ah am nae carryin' ye back up th' brae.” Of course, she would carry him up the hill if it really came down to it; she wasn't about to leave him in the sludge to be molested by the vagrants. She didn't know of his hunger, but she was getting the munchies herself, compliments of the leafy cigarette she'd had before entering the bar earlier. From a hidden pocket in her belt, she produced an apple and a paring knife, and with another elbow to his bony side, she offered the former to him. “Ye guttin'? Micht taste a wee spicy tae ye reit noo.” Eleanor balanced the blade on her left knee, and reached into her belt again, this time to pull out one of those leafy cigs; she liked a little drugs with her drugs. The rogue would of course share, if he felt up to it, but until then, she pinched it between her lips, and snapped a blue flame into existence, lighting its end before the magical flame flickered out again.
Leoxander was staring at the underside of the bridge. For the first time ever, those cobwebs and spider webs seemed like woven fabric, showing all sorts of designs in their creation. But the paranoia caused his eyes to remain wide on them once he managed to open them, laying on his back. Hungry? He was... starving, and thoughts of warm, fresh meat from a recent kill made him think maybe a stag or bear was near as his runny nose twitched. "Hell..." He murmured, and smacked his dry mouth, his throat finally open. "That's dust, I mean... pixie... ain't it?" He figured it out a moment before his spasm, and was regretting it now. Maybe it was euphoric to others, but for Leo, he was immobilized and aching, even as he was seeing spiders in such a different context.
Eleanor watched Leo quietly a long moment, taking a drag of her herbal cigarette and blowing out a few smoke rings before she commented. "Aye, 'at it is. Alchemically-altered pixie doost." They may have to make arrangements in the future if he is to be a dust smuggler for her operation; something to keep the dust secured in its packaging so it doesn't affect the lycan. A lop-sided smirk took hold of her lips, and she passed the cigarette to Leo. "Haur, thes will help." After all, it often had a calming effect on its users; she hoped it would soothe the lycan. She could see the way his eyes danced across the underside of the bridge.
Leoxander was all too glad to take a hit from her herbal cigarette. That was familiar, and not a bad remedy for allergy and other affects. He inhaled two lung fulls of smoke and sighed it in relief as he felt the colors fade, and he was just starting to feel relaxed, even as his face was still welted, bits of his hair even falling out if they were ever touched or combed through. Finally, the lycan was starting to relax, but he wasn't sitting up immediately. One last cough, but his throat opened up as the rune and the smoke seemed to assist well enough. He looked up through watering eyes at the woman who always garbed herself in greens and blues. "Leoxander..." He offered his full name.
Eleanor was sitting up beside the supine lycan, and after he had taken his fill of the cigarette, she reached out to take it back, pulling it to her lips. She tasted him on the cigarette, but she didn't mind sharing it. When he mentioned his full name, she arced a brow and looked down at him curiously. "Och, ur we oan a full-nam basis noo? Ah shoods hae knoon, woods hae jist tauld ye 'El' insteid." Her words were laced with her usual humor, full lips pulled into a broad, if not cheeky, grin. "Ah will respond tae either, ay coorse." Although she didn't add it, she was often called "bitch" and other less-savory titles; the woman didn't really care what anyone called her, as the name hardly mattered. She knew her reputation preceded such nom de plumes, so what should she care what the lycan wanted to call her? Shifting around so that she was more or less on her left hip facing Leo, propped up on her left elbow as her right hand held the cigarette toward him again, she asked, "Ye alrecht noo?" The paring knife and apple were laid between them, more or less forgotten for the time being.
Leoxander took another drag from her cigarette before he offered a nod, her words a bit of a blur more than usual. He would fall asleep right there under the bridge if she allowed it, whether she stayed or not in the rum and dirt smelling environment. Perhaps not a good perception of a prospective partner, but this was the reality of the moment. "I'm... okay..." He spoke hoarsely though he did have a request. "Some water wouldn't hurt..." He didn't perceive her as anything she was often called. This was a new friend as far as he was concerned. She hadn't left him under a bridge to rot.
Eleanor wasn't about to leave Leo, not in his current condition. She was comfortable-enough, drowning out the stench of the area with the cigarette and the Firefly Steve that was settling comfortable into her limbs, warmth suffusing her muscles and letting her relax beside the lycan. "Ah can probably dae somethin' abit 'at," the woman said with a bit of a giggle. The dust was starting to affect her, moreso as she drew herself slowly into a stand. She wobbled, briefly, then moved toward the river's edge, producing a canteen from some hidden compartment in her belt -- how many hidden compartments does this woman have?! -- before filling it. She mumbled something under her breath, and the runes on the canteen glowed a moment, then faded; perhaps she was cleansing the otherwise-rotten water. Can't have them getting dysentery now, could she? What on earth would that say about a budding friendship. With a half-grin, she crawled back up the bank, and slumped down on the dirt beside her companion. "Haur," El murmured, offering the drink up to Leo.
Leoxander lifted his hands to the cleansed canteen. Damn. He couldn't have had a better partner in this situation, and he recognized that even in his half-high state. Trying to sit up as not to choke, he drowned himself still, swallowing some of that cleansed water but pouring a good bit over his shoulders. He still wasn't quite up to par. But blue eyes were open, now, sweat touched hair fallen to the side to reveal his red forehead, and he stared toward her. "No more of that..." He said weakly, still trying to drink water as though it were a rare commodity.
Eleanor grinned at Leo in a way that revealed both dimples, before pursing her lips in a faux-serious expression. “Dornt fash yerse, Ah willnae be sellin' ye onie onytime in th' future.” The woman chuckled in light of their situation, before leaning back against the bridge underside and sighing deeply. “Thes mince is strang thocht ... an' sae much fin.” With a joking expression, she shifted her gaze back to him. “Ye an' Ah will jist hae tae stick tae rum an' these--” She gestured with the cigarette, before choking out a short laugh. “Ah will kin if yoo're nae up fur movin' thes in th' future. “ El walked a fine line between good person and bad, but she wasn't about to risk the man's life over a package of blue powder.
Leoxander thought about the prospect. Rum sounded good. He didn't know why he ever tried to indulge in this fancy of more. But that was a concept that came with the pain on his face, which still had some red and welts from the pixie dust. He tried to move when she mentioned the idea, but Leo would probably just be as well, under the bridge, whether she left him or not. "I'm... I'm sorry..." It was the first and few apologies he would ever give, because he had bold enough to be stupid. And now, he was definitely paying the price. In the dirt. In the care of a woman who had better things to do. His employer, who would probably be terminating him by morning.
Eleanor snorted, giving her head a shake. "Sae yer apologies fur when yoo've actually dain somethin' wrang," she chided playfully. She took another drag of her cigarette then passed it toward her companion. Her cheeks tingled from the dust, and as the day waned into night, the shadows in the edge of her vision swayed. She eyed the apple, but it just wasn't enough for her anymore. "Aam guttin'," the spell blade announced. "Hoo abit we gie ye somewhaur dry an' fill 'at belly ay yoors."
Instead, Leoxander drifted off to sleep.
Some time later, still under the bridge
Leoxander hadn't taken too long to succumb to sleep. Once he was able to breathe again, the aftermath of that euphoric feeling and the relaxing herb of the smoke had his eyes growing heavier as he listened to the sound of her voice. He never slept long, or peacefully. There was still a knot etched into his brow, subtle flinches coming from the visions behind closed eyes, arms moving to fold over his chest tightly as though cold, even though he radiated a feverish body heat. It wasn't the smell of the river that bothered him - he'd crashed in worse places. A short wolf nap later, Leo took a deep breath that was clear, turning his head and brushing an arm over his face, which was still a little red but more like a sunburn than a welted mess. It took him a moment in his groggy state to remember where he was, if he was in fact in the same spot, bloodshot blue eyes squinting a glance across his surroundings.
Eleanor had not bothered to move the much-taller man, nor had she even considered leaving him in such a sorry state. Instead, she remained half-propped up on her left elbow, and had allowed herself to doze off briefly, drifting into a fitful sleep at the behest of the herbs and dust in her system. As she sensed the other coming-to, she lifted her head, and a half-grin tugged at the right corner of her mouth. "Ye wag yer fit when ye sleep," the spell blade teased innocuously, ignorant of his canine nature.
Leoxander remembered the details of his unpleasant reaction the moment he saw her lift her head and recognized who was still there at his side. Looking a little grouchier than before, his arms unfolded to push at the ground so that he could work on sitting up, scratching at his face and rubbing his nose with the back of his arm and a sniff. The glow on the other side caught his eyes and he took a moment to study the arcane rune etched into his skin. Whatever it was doing was working, as he only had a dull ache in his head and a little blur to his vision. "Damn..." He murmured groggily, looking around the spot before his eyes glared back toward her. She wasn't what he was angry about, though. "How long was I out?" He figured it couldn't have been too long. There was still a little light left in the day. The fact she had stuck around was not over looked, but he had already given his share of rare apologies and wasn't going to pile on more.
Eleanor really didn't expect an apology from Leoxander -- after all, she was still under the impression that he hadn't actually done anything wrong. She pushed herself up as well, slumping back against the bridge. "Jobby is strang," she explained with a cheeky half-grin. Then, "Jist lang enaw tae drool a wee bit." The herbal cigarette had lots its embers, and she flicked her fingers together now to re-light it, taking a few puffs before passing it toward Leoxander. Her other hand reached for the apple, and rather than cut it into pieces as previously determined, she took a big bite right out of its juicy green skin (because green apples are the best). "Hoo is yer heed?"
Leoxander gratefully took the proffered smoke between thumb and forefinger, letting it sit between his lips for a long pull before he pinched it back into grip and passed it back her way. A habitual shift of his tongue rolled the white smoke like a wave down his throat and into his lungs, where he held it, losing small wisps with a few guttural words of response. "...'bout as good as I could hope for. Still feels like I took a dive into some shallow reef." He rubbed his hand over his face and an eye as the rest of that hit was exhaled slow. "Should probably get the hell out'a here. Somethin' might come back for those bones down there an' I'm sure my bath was a waste, now." Covered in dirt and soaked in the foul scent of that river, he wasn't sure he could give up another pocketful of coin for a room that night. Which meant finding somewhere half way decent to sleep. The faint growl in his stomach reminded him that he hadn't bought a meal at the bar as he had intended to do.
Eleanor nodded to Leoxander; it would seem their meeting was coming to an end, unless he wanted to extend it. She was good either way, although she was enjoying his company -- even if it was her teasing him as he bloated and blotched up. "Ye dae reek huir uv a rancid," came her usual jesting tone as she plucked the cigarette back and pushed herself up into a stand. She used the back of her apple-wielding hand to dust off her tattooed legs, shaking off the foliage that clung to her ankles and skirt. Knowing that Leo wasn't the type to accept any sort of charity, she silenced an offer to allow him to join her for a proper meal, instead eying him rather curiously, brows lofted. "Ye gonna be alrecht?" the rogue eventually elected to ask.
Leoxander also wasn't one to overstay his welcome. He had almost always been something of a loner, and even though it was easy to tolerate the woman's demeanor and heavy accent, he needed to wash up, rest up, try to forget the humiliating situation that left him literally red in the face. "Yeah, I'll be a'right. An' we'll still figure out someway to scrape the gold out of these land lubbers pockets." He figured it wouldn't be the last he saw of his potential new business partner, and more or less knew where to find her lurking by now. A brush of hands on his pants to pointlessly dust the dirt pebbles from leather, and he ducked out from under the bridge, even going so far as to offer a callused hand to help her up the slope onto the flat road. There were rare moments when the mannerless pirate forgot his place and let a hint of something kinder show.
Eleanor chuckled huskily as she eyed the pirate. "We'll make a braw pair, ye an' Ah," she declared with a nod. Despite the shameful situation he thought he was in, she had found the whole thing rather humorous, and wasn't about to dismiss him from her employment anytime soon. She saw some potential in him, under the layers of grime and cynicism, and she intended to take advantage of that. With that roguish smirk so often present in her features, she took the hand in her own tattooed one, heels digging into the slope as she pinched her cig between her lips, her other hand still holding onto the apple. "Yoo're nae a bad sort, ye ken," she remarked thoughtfully, her tone still semi-laced with mirth. Against her better judgment, she went on to say, "Ye ever need somethin', ye use 'at staine tae fin' me." It was an open-invitation, one without expectations or strings. Whether or not he decided to accept whatever she had to offer, well, that was on him. El took another, deep drag of the cigarette, then passed it off to Leo. "Ye can hae lae," she said, parting with a wink. "Ye swatch loch ye coods use it."
Leoxander met her sea green eyes for a thoughtful pause of his own, taking in the compliment with an unspoken gratitude. Once in a while it felt good to be judged with approval, and not be looked upon as some scoundrel, dog, outsider. A nod came when she offered those words of help, and he wouldn't be one to turn down the rest of that sweet leaf, knowing she had more. "Yeah... see you around, mermaid." The nickname came casually, whether she liked it or not. Those teal and blue colors, her long, braid adorned hair, that ocean worthy brogue. It fit. One hand fell into the pocket of loose leather pants while the other pinched the smoke to his lips, and he turned to head down the streets of Cenril.
Eleanor had not expected the nickname, and its occurrence brought both of those blonde brows high into her forehead. She chuckled, accepting its place in her world now; it was definitely better than some of the names she'd been called as of late. El dipped her chin in another nod, then took a bite of her apple, turning in the opposite direction to head north toward the richer part of town.