RP:The Rook catches a Crook

Location: The Broken Barrel, Port Rynvale

Summary: By chance, a hunt long since lost on a long list of priorities is rekindled as Leoxander happens to comes across the ‘Fortune Teller, Verah’ from the Gualon Spring Festival.

Broken Barrel Inn

Verah has her wagon parked on a random transport ship, as she is not in the mood to deal with petty thieves of her personal belongings. The nomad is taking a night off as being a fake as she stopped in Rynvale for the evening–not that she knew who she truly was as she was always mixed with her empathic abilities. Perhaps it was a personality disorder… she was not sure, but then again, her moods were not extreme, right? An overthinker. The half-elf is clad in a matching set of clothes she hand-made, a stitched set of silken, green-colored fabric with lots of blue, brown, and green patterns. She wears flowy, shiny silken pants that match the soft, short top that she wears that ties around her cleavage, leaving the ties of the shirt dangling long in front of her along with a long golden pendant. A little fashionista. The elf wears her pale blonde hair wavy, long, and free, as she was normally free-spirited. Hair frames her facial structure and her lips are painted a softer pink tonight with soft highlights on her cheeks. Obviously, she liked playing dress-up even if she was not playing a faux witch. After a long day of sun and sea, she figured that planting herself in the inn would be the best plan for the night. Caramel eyes glaze over the menu, but the illusionist settles for a drink to settle her nerves–rum mixed with a fruitier juice. Verah had not heard much of Rynvale, and the last time she was here to scope the area, she had left a note on the bulletin about her match-making services. She left her identity sort of unknown except for her nickname as she was a traveling act of sorts, and she had odd entertainment jobs from fortune teller, to match-maker, to… singing dancer in a girl’s group. She seems to be in her own element, as she feels safer in this establishment–for now–as she does not recognize the faces here.

Leoxander never forgot a face, but it wasn’t initially the wannabe witch he entered the establishment for. The day of that so-called fortune told, it hadn’t been until after the festivities that he learned what the mysterious mystic had said to his now fiance, so he hadn’t paid too much attention to the details beyond watching Lora amidst her turn at the booth. If nothing in the late crowd of patrons stirred her uncertainties, perhaps the pirate that was -not- in any sad attempt at formal wear, pushing open the door to head inside might change that. A short sleeve shirt torn in some places as though punctured a time or two with a blade concealed whatever hung on that true silver chain around his neck, but the collage of sinful ink ranging from symbols to snakes, scorpions and skulls was exposed covering most of his arms to his knuckles. Same boots, some distressed dark pants fitted at the waist and loose at the cuffs, a few sheathed knives obvious while others were kept in hiding. Unshaven face, uncombed hair, and he caught the attention of a few including the graying barkeep who he’d known and worked with for years. The two men exchanged a clasp of hands and a missive subtly passed in the connection, and Simon immediately pocketed the note to busy himself pouring Leo a tumbler of his usual top shelf. Which, ironically, was removed from a locked case given the crime rate that came and went on that island. That was when he turned his head to take in the scene and obviously the half-elf with her flaxen hair and fancy clothes stuck out like an oasis in a desert. Her scent was subtle even to the wolf, but he’d definitely crossed it once before. Studying her unabashedly, his hand closed around the glass slid his way to lift it and take a drink, giving Simon a glance - who only shrugged - as the woman didn’t seem the talkative type to share her woes and worries with the bartender. Leo’s attention slid back Verah’s way.

Verah takes the fruity, spiked drink and tips it back against plump lips. She can feel the warmth strike her stomach, but she gives no care at this, as she was smarter with her liquor. At least, she liked to hope, as she kept herself in emotional control–for the most part. She had her moments. Verah was not the talkative type, unless she was under an act, or something flicked a trigger, and even then, she had to feel out of the situation of speaking. She had to choose the correct words, and sometimes, it bit her back–like venom. The nomad was not innocent, and most times, the empath believed she deserved her pain and lash from the ones she did wrong. This was not an easy life she lived, nor did she know if she cared. Or maybe she did. Maybe she was an addict. An addiction for people she could not be. Stories she could not live. Either way, she lingers on that glass and stares into idle space. A pretty girl like her would expect woes, and maybe there were times that she would whine like an emotional girl to a barkeep, as she was that sort of girl in times of sorrowful waves, but tonight was not the night. Moments pass, and then… she feels eyes. Blue… blonde. She can see it from her peripheral, but even if she took a glance, she would not know who was staring at her. “You know, it’s busy tonight. You can stare at anything–anyone else.” Her tone is flatter, but not anything to be intimidated by, as she was feeling passive due to trying to investigate the emotion of the man glancing her way. Would she dare touch what this man was feeling just staring at her in that… unshameful way?

Leoxander might hear a voice that further triggered some unnamed suspicion, unless she’d altered it with an accent then or now, but it took him the rest of his own glass in a second swallow and placing it down for a refill before the memory hit him. The woman in the swamp party. Well, near the orc swamps, as people didn’t want to ruin their expensive shoes. She’d probably dressed less casually, more ‘seer’ worthy, but Leo had been wanting to confront the claimed mentalist since spring, and the reason had slipped into the back of his mind until right then. It might have been simple enough to catch her off guard, lock her against the wall and make his demands for answers, but that wasn’t the way the rogue handled a situation like this. “Barkeep.” His low voice growled as if he and Simon weren’t on a first name basis. As if Leo held himself in some sort of high arrogance that assured him he’d win over this blonde woman before the bell was up. “Why don’t you get the lady another?” His hand knuckled his empty glass a little closer to her space and he waited while Simon provided some distraction in repouring his and she had the opportunity to refuse his advances. But it gave him a moment to brace his weight on the bar closer, long enough to casually take a small blade in hand in case he had to stop her from trying to flee the scene. That uncomfortable pause stretched on, the brash and grungy pirate still staring at her profile if she had still not turned to make any eye contact, and finally he asked in a low, level tone. “Why don’t you read my future an’ tell me what I might do in the next few moments…” Something a bit grim and dark to the end of his flat spoken question, which she might realize was entirely rhetorical.

Verah felt strange at the growl of a tone–what did this mean? She holds still. She looks at the man in return, now, with a softer, innocent expression. Really she was a deer in the headlights with a dip of venom if crossed. Brown eyes bounce around his rugged, edgy frame. A chiseled face–handsome, but rugged. A girl was not normally set on a blonde, but her eyes would take in the stranger’s frame, either way. Might have been the possibilities of potential set-up for other women, but he talks of getting the playful half-elf another. In fun and games, she downs her drink, and Simon comes at her beck and call. “This time, without the chase…” She wants it strong. Not like she was a strong girl. Just an actress. Brown eyes then connect back with the pirate. His next suggestion is darker, and she is curious to reach her emotion forward to dip her ability in the pool of Leoxander’s emotion, but since she recognized patterns, she guards herself. Did she read him on another previous day? She only guesses. “Fate is not guaranteed. You choose your own destiny due to the choices you make.” She does not delve deep, for her own risk. He would have to be more specific, but perhaps, that might be to his benefit. She looks towards her drink, as if she does not care, but underlying? She feels the hairs stiffen from being caught.

Leoxander didn’t have a flirtatious note in his eyes. No slick smirk tugging the edge of his mouth. She could probably safely assume he wasn’t there to pick up a partner for the furs for the evening by that intense stare. “I’d say you should pro’lly go along with that rule when it comes to chosin’ yer words, lady.” Simon may not entirely appreciate it, but the bar surface was beat up and stained plenty, so when Leo stuck the business end of his knife into the wood near his glass, between them, in her reach, and picked up his refilled tumbler, the grizzly tavern owner just continued to wipe down washed tankards and glasses to reset them awkwardly and unorganized on the shelves below Redbeard’s Maiden. “I know a crook when I smell one.” An odd change up to that statement, but perhaps he was just weaving in a clue that if she ran, she wouldn’t be hard for this tattooed man to track. There was also that way the lantern and candle lights sometimes streaked across his eyes as if the blue pigment were made of metal, flashing gold with muted, green pupils so briefly it could have one wondering if it was just their own tricked vision. He took half of his second glass down in a swallow, attention drifting forward as he idly turned the rim of the glass and rotated the tumbler bit by bit in place. “Sometimes… words can wound sharper ‘en a blade…” A slight tink of his glass against the small weapon sticking hilt up vertically, almost taunting her to reach for it and try to use it against him. “An’ sometimes, those never heal.” Finally, a sidelong look returned her way and he stood up straight again to knock back the whiskey that remained.

Verah felt the emotion of that he was not there in interest for her. She was reasonable, she knew she was not everyone’s type, but still, her gaze is ‘innocent’ and lips are puckered for a moment until he states that she should, basically, keep choosing her words wisely. She is caught. Maybe not. She will try to keep the ruse alive… she hopes. The knife, however, in the wood has her place her new glass down from Simon. Here it goes again… the danger… the psychopaths that hunt her down. He knows who she is. Her breath falters slightly--an uneven tone at the blade pierced into the wood of the bar. She was clearly stunned. “You know who I am.” He knows a crook when he smells one? How? She is confident in her ways, or she tries to be. Unless she blacked out with the stranger one night. Delved in her pathetic lust due to stranger’s stories, but she doubts due to his persistent stare. In her case, she knows she somehow met him, as normally she -tried- to be careful. “But... I’m afraid you’ll have to be more specific.” Beat… ‘sometimes those never heal’, she feels her empathetic gut wrench, but she keeps herself oblivious. “Have we met?” Because deep down? He does not remember him from that festival. If anything, she remembers her customers... Maybe he should be more straightforward, as she is very well with denial.

Leoxander managed not to betray any confusion, a perfect mask that might suggest he knew -everything- about her. She had words for the past, the present, the future. He knew how to coax those exact words from a person without too many questions. “More than you know…” A quip in that phrase to the one who should know all, also a blatant lie because she was still just a few pieces of a puzzle to Leo, so far. Nothing to match up, yet. Her request for more details brought a humorless chuff of a partial laugh with his exhale and he lifted his drink to finish it off while she neglected her own. He wasn’t going to reassure her it wasn’t poisoned, because it was all about how she acted on her own in that situation - that’s what the pirate was studying. It wasn’t until her last question that he answered her again, this time honestly. “Nope. We haven’t.” A firm placement of empty glass back to the counter, right alongside that in-range knife. “I’ve watched you work… an’ I’m ‘fraid you picked pretty damn poorly in who you take your coins from to sell a bunch of bloody rubbish an’ high hopes to. Not much you can do to remedy that besides pay your dues…” Verah might assume that Leo was expecting her to forfeit whatever she had in pocket, but he interrupted the prospect of it by placing some worn gold coins on the counter to pay for her drink (even if he and Simon often exchanged favors and supply). All for the show. Another subtle telltale sign that he wasn’t after immediate retribution.

Verah feels a small pang in her stomach at his words… He knew more than what she led on. No worries, right? Though, she finds her gaze pinned on him, rather than playing nonchalant. Brown eyes connect fully to who she is speaking with because she wants to know who she is talking to. She brings a hand around to brush the hair over one shoulder idly. She tries to play nonchalant. Like she usually does. She did, but she never knew how to act–all she could feel was tenseness as she dared to feel his emotion. Stale. He then begins to confess that he had watched her work. So what? Her brown eyes roll to him. Does he want money? “Sorry, but a girl’s gotta live. Do you dare rob a girl blind in a public establishment–for no apparent reason? No evidence?” She dares, but then he goes on with her faulty behavior. “And how do you know my behavior is… ‘rubbish’? You don’t even know me. And I don’t know you. You are -clearly- blinded on… hope.” She tries to guess, as that was what she was based around. Fate of situations, optimism, possible romance for others. It might be best if Leoxander goes on blatant facts with this one, otherwise, he just met a half-elf in pure denial.

Leoxander seemed fairly amused by her challenge, looking at Simon who might have cracked his own smirk under that wiry beard, but it was hard to say with him. “I d’know, mate. Do I dare?” The barkeep shook his head, not in answer, but as if this was just another witnessed moment of the rogue at work. His attention fixed back to the half-elf. “You seem intelligent enough, even if you’re good at lyin’ through your teeth. But you an’ I both know from this brief time t’gether I’m not blind…” Leo grasped and removed that knife at a speed that let the weapon linger in view as he used the outside of that same hand to brush aside a bit of wood chips from the surface where it stuck. “Happens t’be that’s the type I look for. An’ I figure you given’ my girl some misinformation is reason enough to put your skills to a better cause. There’s always other ways I could handle this. Ocean’s not far off and I know the spots where it gets deep, savvy?” He wouldn’t deny that it was a threat, albeit a calm and casual one. “You tell me the truth an’ we’ll see that you get off these shores in yer pretty silks an’ lovely self in tact, eh?” He always had a way to work in some flattery to confuse or lure the fairer sex into a false sense of calm in the face of intimidation. “An’ you can trus’ me when I say I got reasons for knowin’ yer words faulty…- …didn’t catch yer name…” An opportunity for her to lie or reveal, which he’d have to judge to be real or false if she bothered with a response on that.

Verah kept her pouty mouth straight for once at his challenge. At this point, she stares him straight in his eyes. No phony act. “I don’t know, your eyes are blue, could be mistakenly pale. Maybe you are blind.” She tries to play very, very dumb. Make a ridiculous joke to brush him off, but she knows she is losing which turns her face away from him. She hates that he is staring at her like that as she has seen a facial expression like that a time ago… She folds a silk leg over the other as if she is comfortable in the bar, but really she is still trying to play poise. He grabs the knife, and it still makes her want to vomit that he visualized it to her, but she is trying to play strong. She plays, also, blunt, however… “Misinformation to your girl? You act like I know who you are still. I don’t know your girl…” He talks about the deep ocean, and she, again, flips her hair a little bit. “You act like sirens don’t love me.” She dares. She can play both teams, right? Men and women? Sirens? Mermaids? Not really, but she tries to fake the act. He talks of her silks. Her luxury. “You’re so confident… What do you think is faulty? Most know I play my cards to the truest fate.” Not really. “Vee, is the best you’ll know. I don’t do the full thing with people who throw knives in my line of sight, and… I’d ask for your name, but I am almost positive that’s not what you want me to hear. Obviously you are stereotypical… supposedly ‘not one to mess with’. Considering your flattery of flashy weapons and your stupid glare.” A little blunt in that sense, but she risked it anyway.

Leo might have walked away from the game and dubbed it a waste of his time on a different day, but the rogue was in a good mood on that particular visit to the port’s dive. He sheathed that knife at the holster just behind his hip and rested his whiskered cheek on the knuckles of one hand like he was swooning over the seer, just a shadow of a smirk at the edge of his mouth. “Sirens only love the hunt. They get their satisfaction every time they fool another blaggard to believe in their promises.” He purposely changed his expression, poor acting on purpose as he shifted to a ‘thinker’s pose’. “Kin’a reminds me of someone.” Vee. He didn’t know a thing about her beyond what he’d already pointed out, but he was good at putting on that know-it-all act. “Fact is… I’ll take a wild guess, since I don’t have yer divine gift, and suggest yer pretty far from anyone that would miss you.” Not only was she on an island where he kept watch on traffic, her standoffish attitude clued him in that he might hit a nerve remarking on her loner status. “Someone in yer situation… I’d bother to wonder what they got to lose? Besides the obvious. But you already see what’s gonna happen, right?”

Verah watched that lazy, grundy gaze carefully. The faux interest dances in his gaze, which leaves the empath confused for a blind moment. The liar of a seer. There is a mild guilt within her as she challenges him, but she also has to keep her occupation. She also… envies what she cannot have and wants what she wants. He goes on about sirens, which leaves her mouth almost parted, but she catches herself. She had never been in line with a siren. She is a liar. Maybe a seaborn has set eyes on the attractive little half elf, but Verah also told so many lies, her story was hard to keep up with. Even for herself. When Leoxander talks about how nobody would really miss her, she unfolds her legs and she throws back the more of her drink that was handed to her as she had a small pang of jealousy from those around her. “My -situation-?” Her face is grim for a moment, as she is uncomfortable with what he has to say to her. The obvious? What was the obvious? “I don’t speak in tongues. Poetry. Metaphors. If you have a problem with your love life… I can’t help unless you blatantly speak it. -And- I only -write- in poetry and metaphors. Write to me if you have a problem, I’ll gladly know how to solve it. You can tell me your problem, but obviously you’re incompetent and can’t beat around the bush.” She wants to toss the rest of her drink in his face, and she is about to lift it, but instead, she slams it. “Enjoy your evening. And, by the by, -many- would miss me.” Not really… as she was a nomad. No one knew her, really.... If anything, she was just spilling more lies. She did not have much of any form of relationship–friendship, family; none. Either way, she stands, and moves out of the bar for now because she is someone who is struggling with the intensity of pegging her. To a point where her empathic ways are so in depth that she feels like it is humid. Struggling for breath talking to the man before her.

Leoxander watched her exit before he looked at Simon, reaching out for the bottle of whiskey that was handed his way, since it was something of a routine with the wolf. "Think she's a keeper?" The barkeep in his usual silence did not answer, but Leo huffed a breath of a laugh and collected the bottle - and his coins - to head out of the tavern.