RP:Trish' Semi-Tamed Treasures

Part of the A Few Fox Tales Arc

This is a Mage's Guild RP.

This is a Rogue's Guild RP.

Summary: After myriad months of hard work, countless schemes, and some good ol' sweat & blood - Ina finally delivers [[Lita's Commission to her. That, and drops off a mildly cursed book on Leo, to auction off. Nice n' all, but the real highlight is earning the nickname 'Trix', for definitely non-scandalous reasons.

The Harbour

‘’As you pass by the guards at their posts at the massive, sturdy gates to the Harbor of Rynvale, your nose is immediately bombarded by all the scents of the Harbor, especially the scent of the sea, in all its salty magnificence. The hollering of sailors fills your ears, shouted orders drowning out the hustle and bustle of merchants all going about their business on the waterfront, attempting to lure someone into buying their precious wares. Out in the distance, you can see many ships, some in pristine condition, others lacking, and a few that are still in the stages of construction. Sailors run all about the decks of those ships; cleaning, dropping anchor, and generally following orders. Just beyond the ships, a massive stone wall rings the outer waters, with a double-wide portcullis that acts as a passage for incoming and outgoing boats. Anyone sailing must have a proper license to even enter the Harbor without raising an alarm from the Navy, as well as the rest of the city. You can barely make out Archer towers scattered about the fortified gray stone wall, their signal fires yet to be lit. As a few sailors stumble past you, obviously drunk, you happen to notice a square building beside you. It is connected to yet another building, twice the first’s size, via means of an upper level causeway; the Dockmaster and Officers’ building being the first, and the Navy’s barracks being the larger building. You begin to feel very safe in this stone-fortified Harbor, especially with such a heavy presence from the naval officers marching this way and that on errands.’’

Ina continues to follow after Leoxander, seemingly heedless of his discomfort at her antics. "Pssht. Like they're limited ta' my pockets." For instance, she takes that moment to casually palm him a nice copy of the receipt that Loravelle had signed earlier. "But, uh. Huh. I think. Bappa-da-ba.." She's humming to herself, her whole arm vanishing into the sleeve of her coat in a somewhat queer way, as though the sleeve were swallowing her hole- only to finally pluck out a rather gnarly tome. Which, she then has to jam back in her sleeve when she realizes that they've arrived at the harbour. And it's not like going over this stuff on a boat is smart. No, she'll wait (impatiently as hell), for them to return to dryland, at about which point he's offered the book, wedged between some of the cookie tins he'd initially handed to her. "One evil book, courtesy of tha bowels of the mage guild. Also cursed. But, like, Who cares? We're sellin' it, amirite?"

Leoxander might have given a glance at the parchment receipt once the many tins of cookies were packed in a handle-slotted crate that would make it easier to carry as far as the Jolly Roger, but he had a stop here and there to make on the way. Deciding to send Lora’ on her own on one of those errands (as the island was definitely safe to the pirate’s wife-to-be), he handed a couple of those metal containers to the bookkeeper to bring to Simon and exchange for watching the twin maned wolves that were growing into their awkward and gangly limbs, slowly but surely. The rest was set atop a barrel once they were on the planks of the Rynvale docks and he focused Arlyeon’s way, not just for the fact she was one that the rogue liked to keep an eye on any given moment, but because she was presenting him with something. With a glance around that turned any prying eyes away on visual contact, he tossed the spare tins into the cargo box and openly looked at the cover of the tome. “You’re gon’a have to be a bit more specific on what’s inside if you want me to fetch a decent price, kid. Only evil magic I know about is the kind sent shot in my direction, an’ it’s never been bloody pleasant.” He at least knew not to open the book right away, not until there was some motion or suggestion to deem it safe. And even then he was cautious even holding it.

Ina's behaviour might be an indication that maybe he -shouldn't- open it. Period, given that even in the act of handing it over, she's kept it firmly wedged between the tins, ensuring that he maintains that posture even after her hands retract. "It's- well. It's -technically- a forgery, that might be something else besides. A pretty decent one, of the book of the dead- since well, I may have, uh." It's so awkward to have to acknowledge what she snagged and then -gave up, "So, ja know how I may have hit up the mage tower a while back. Or, uh, maybe not? Anyways, Sorta grabbed somethin' along the lines a' tha' necromancers' holy texts. Tha' book a' tha' dead." Yeah, she's maybe pushing the tins and book closer to Leo at this point, and subtly slithering back, "So anyways, I sorta had ta' give it over ta' other interested parties so we didn't all get murdered. But, before I did, we got this lil thing. Equally cursed copy, made from its guardian." Yeah, she's gonna just gloss over that whole problem part.

Leoxander picked up on that subtle caution in her demeanour, and he wasn’t going to open it anytime soon. Maybe he’d find someone to risk that chance for him, but he’d gather as much information from the Crow as he could. His trust of Ina was tentative at best, and yet he kept her in his employ. Even encouraged it at that moment. “Maybe next time you go wanderin’ for salvage you could take a couple with you. You disappear and I ain’t got s**t to do but wait till you pop up again. Now you want me to peddle off this?” He didn’t lift the closed tome (or tomb, as it may come to create) carelessly but motioned with his jaw to the item in his hands. “Jus’ tell me what’s stoppin’ you from sellin’ it yerself? I know it ain’t your boundless generosity, Tail.”

Ina fans at herself, before one scaled arm is thrust over her head in the pantomime of a swoon, "Ja worryin' after me? Be still, my 'eart." And yet, his reservations aren't without foundation, something which even she has to acknowledge, "I wasn't willing ta throw tha' other crows into the heart of tha' mage tower 'n use em as a 10-foot pole." And yet, that's not the whole truth to the matter, is it? Even as she continues to drift back, she hasn't returned to her habitual playfulness, "That last heist I was part of was a disaster. Fer this, I had ta' know that I'd get tha' job done. That's it."As for the rest of his reservations, that at least, is enough to hearken at least some good humour back into her face, "Science- really. I told ja' I dun give a single flying-" Wow, sure is great they're at a harbour with all them seagulls, "about profit. I've got a patron. A business I been running in my downtime. Now? I'm just curious ta' find out what'll happen after we offload this on a poor sap- 'n an auctions' a pretty good way ta discreetly do so."

Leoxander managed to repress most of the roll of his eyes at her words, directing the look down toward the object he held. He hadn’t missed the space she put between them, either. “So what’re you suggestin’, kid? You want me to stash it somewhere on -my- island? Not knowin’ what it could do? Right after that primal bastard pulled out of its grave to destroy half a (seagull) city?” He obviously wasn’t too keen on the plan, but would try to meet in the crossroads with the crow. The book and the tins were set on top of the box he planned to take with him, but he hadn’t promised anything, yet.

Ina, having acquired a sufficiently solid amount of space, decides it's time to properly engage in the necessary gesticulations to move this conversation along. Preferably in a path that is conducive to the rest of her agenda, "I mean, I dun think it's to that scale- 'less ja already got beef with tha' necromancer guilds an' ya think they're gonna claw back at -any- copy." She shrugs, and starts to trundle further onto the island, though- now that she's hit the requisite distance, she -does- wait for the wolf to catch up," But, Meri -did- offer to look after it. Just figured ya'd be a good go-between- what with ya' no doubt curious as ta where I went 'n what I'd been doing." Her head cranes back, a surprising demure look shot his way, "I mean, I -am- supposed ta' answer to ya, aren't I?"

Ina said to Leoxander, "Also, we doin' anything 'bout that city. Seems like we could run some good cons, 'less that rubs ja the wrong way."

Leoxander exhaled a breath through his nose, or… tried to, but he was still a bit stuffed up from the pixie dust. Whether Ina knew about his allergy or not (she was a very informed informant that ironically hid her secrets well), it was a cruel ploy to the pirate she was persuading to trust her, now. Her rhetorical question brought a slight scoff before his words, too. “I’d be stupid t’ think you answer to anybody, ‘Trish’.” Not her name, he figured, but with all the names and disguises she had floating around her, only distinguished at times by a wolf’s talent for categorizing different scents, he didn’t know what was true from false, or if any actually qualified for the former. “I’ll find a place for it, for now, but don’t think I won’t be talkin’ to Inks about what I’m hoardin’ out here.” Crate taken in grip, he intended to get it off the docks before he found some way or where to conceal it on the way to Simon’s.

Leoxander replied to that other mention as he began the walk from the harbour. "We went up there to check it out. Turned into a blood s***show. But the gist of it is that the city might damn well crumble before enough repairs can be done. That was a good while ago. Lora' came down with somethin' bad, so I ain't bringin' her to those mountains anytimes soon to see if things've changed."

Ina’s expression actually softens, for just a second, her arms folding up behind her back, "'n ja wouldn't quite be right. I'm an ameeeeenable sort, don'tcha know?" There's a languid grace in the way she straightens back up, serpentine curves contorting so she can fully face him, even as her bodys shuffling to the bar as well, "Especially since you -haven't- left me hanging. Even if ja did feel tha' need ta' huff n' puff, n' make it clear ja'd wear my guts for garters some day or sommat." It's honestly a bit weird in the way she continues to coil in on herself as they move, a subtle sign that whatever shifting she incorporates in her disguises is perhaps a bit more fluid than she lets on, given her actual length extends to compensate for the queer contortions, "N' ja don't have ta' say my callin' card like that. S'like ya dun trust me. Pfft." Though. this was a problem. She actually needs to pause for a moment, because she's begun to tangle herself into knots, something which sees slowing down in order to solve this (Probably-still-pixie-buzzed). "If tha' book really bugs ya- I can at least tell ya that it's at worst gonna try and murder you on a -narrow- scale." That's reassuring, right? "More Om Nom, less Necronom?" Still, the bit of intel he passes on is a bit more...it's almost sobering, "...Huh. So. Wait a bit til it sorts out type deal. Or a- don't pick sides because a' possibility drama, type deal?"

Leoxander shrugged at her huff and puff comment off-hand on their trek toward the Inn. “We all got our talents, right?” The fox should just be grateful she wasn’t a boar. He tried not to be too obvious as he watched her movement alongside him from peripheral vision. “If I didn’t trust you, at least… somewhat, I wouldn’t have watched you board the ferry. But you’ll forgive me if I don’ know too much on which one o’ you to put my faith in.” As for the book, he focused briefly down at again, after a turn of his head to glance her way, he didn’t seem too fazed by her warning. Something trying to murder him on any scale wasn’t exactly a new alternative when it came to the rogue and his predicaments. There had been a streak of something resembling peace, but he didn’t count on it to last. Maybe he didn’t want it, too. Still and predictable waters became stagnant and nourished nothing. “I got a box for it. Jus’ tell me I’m not gonna gain another red-eye or a good dose of bad luck if I lock it away safe.” He slowed to a stop just outside the Inn, looking from Ina toward the door, sensing fellow ‘thropes and a vampire’s presence through smell and tracks.

Ina is making pretty good progress on uncoiling herself, enough that she can actually hearken after him, even if it's a bit closer to a looming sort of shamble. "I mean, I figure tha' rest of them ain't followin' after ya cause a' coincidence. ...Though, it'd be a pretty good gag." The trust bits she glosses over simply enough, if only because- the job being what it was, that was really the only good answer he could have offered. "It's uh. Hrm. It -should- technically just be a gloomy feelin' knock off. But, uh, I wanted ta make sure that if ya got a connisoah~ that it'd -really- pass the muster 'n fool 'em. So, I sorta, jus', ya' know." Her fingers pinch together to help emphasize the next part, "Just a lil small tweak. A nice lil ornamental," what she hastily gets out of her mouth sounds -uncannily similar to 'Cursed Mimic Flesh Bookmark' , but nah, it's followed up by, "Trinket. Window dressin'. The maiming will be light, if it happens, I'm sure. Maybe, leave a steak near it. In a locked box." Anything past that, she honestly couldn't fathom but. "And the box is in a locked closet. " She gestures to the door of the Inn, "Ja leadin' the way, or am I too spooky behind ja'?"

Leoxander wasn’t too keen on her terms and conditions, but perhaps in a token of good faith, or a forgery of one, he would comply to tuck it away until she or the client was ready for whatever plans she had for the book. Ina was always a bit confusing the way she sidled over details and left the surprises to take place. But she wasn’t the only sleight of hand on the island, currently. If she looked back at the box after her spiel, it was mysteriously no longer in sight. “Ladies first.” He motioned with his jaw, the crate of cookies tucked under arm just in case he needed a free hand.

Nortengaal excuses himself from the table for a moment, draining the last of his bottle on the way up to the bar. A brief word to the barkeep and he’s soon back at the table with a new bottle and two new tankards for his compatriots, should they want them. Sliding back into the seat he regards the women a moment as he uncorks the new bottle and takes a drink. He doesn't have the history with Leo that they do, and he can see that both of them are working to do as best by him as they can. As for his own feelings, Leo has quickly become a trusted friend and introduced him to others who the bearman has come to care for as well, and he’ll do what he can to save the man some grief, be it at his own expense or not. A shake of his head sets heavy curls to swaying. “I’m not very familiar with the area yet, I don't really know where else such a thing might be. A trusted friend or advisor's place perhaps?”

Lita wonders if they can just burn it all to the ground and start fresh. Why all the pomp and whatnot? Not that it's her place to argue. When Nort gets up for a minute to head to the bar, Lita leans towards Mahri and presses a brief kiss against her cheek, whispering something to her before settling back into her seat. And then she's eyeing her empty glass and Nort's settling back in as well. "Sounds good." She agrees. "Can always try the jail as well." She shrugs. "They're always keepin' records of some sort in and out of there. And she wa'n't always governor." She adds, though she doesn't elaborate on that point.

Ina might not have caught the trick, but she's been paying enough attention to at least appreciate the legerdemain that accompanied it, given the overall shape of the object. Still, he'd acquiesced to her terms, so his invitation was hard to ignore- the Foxkin-Now-Naga craning her head down in order to get into the Inn. Because, at her current size, it takes a bit of looming. Whether due to some gag she had no intention of explaining, or some quirk of the earlier dust, her height had continued to extend, to the point that even when hunched forward, it wasn't quite enough to clear the door, requiring her to scooch down and then clamber through in a motion that might better befit a creature from one of Mesdorams feverish plays. Albeit the ridiculousness of the now somewhat too small baker's apron she was sporting. Scratch that, it'd probably fit one of Mes' theatric performances. In any case, once the currently purple-scaled menace has managed to muddle her way in, she reaches an arm back in an offer to take one of the cookie jars. To help. And maybe skim a snack now that she was here. She'd already dabbled in her own supply once tonight. Why not again. "Look, Jus' think about it this way. Regardless of whatever may or may not happen- someone that'd want that thing, would very clearly deserve it." Perfectly sound logic. And the sort that can't really be clarified too much anymore. There's other people ta torment after all. Er, visit. Speaking of which, where was- Ah, Yes. She's already off, weaving through the room to the detriment of a few seated folks, so she can just lurk, uncomfortably, near Lita. With one of those expressions that would be right at home on a kid waiting to spring a ridiculous craft project on an unwilling recipient.

Mahri offers Lita a small smile, and she even accepts Nort's return with a newly filled Tankard of that ale she didn't really care for. And suddenly, she straightens in her seat. It wasn't Ina's snakey arrival, it was that familiar scent of the pirate over the unwashed ones in the Inn. Although Ina's entrance is a cause for alarm from most given the naga's size at the moment - and considering she was with Leo, Mahri had an idea who this was now. Quickly, she speaks low to Lita, leaning closer for the other woman to hear only.

Leoxander, perhaps surprisingly, entered behind the Naga form that slithered in, a box of tins in his arms until he could set it aside on a table on his way inside. Wolf ears (not actual ears, like Nort’s) might have caught a muffle of familiar voices before the door opened, but he hadn’t heard much of their conversation. After handing the serpentine creature a container of cookies for whatever reason, his hands-free, he scratched his hands through his hair and winced against the fall of a little spare dust, trying to literally dodge it with a flinch as some speckles rained down on the hardwood floor. “Grdamnit…” The wolf grumbled, made a face, then sneezed into the bend of his heavily inked arm. But he hadn’t entirely missed Mahri’s posture and whisper Lita’s way. He didn’t really have too much reason to suspect much, with how close the two women had become. Instead, he raised his jaw toward Nortengaal. “Get me a glass of whatever you’re drinkin’, mate.” Lora wasn’t there, he noticed, but neither were the pups, so they’d probably burst out of the doors to greet her and she was either on her way to the warehouse, more likely the stables, to visit her horses and search through her tome for some remedy to his allergy.

Mahri has a room upstairs and excuses herself from the table - sorry Ace- to head up with her ale and plans to make. She'll give Leo a little chin-nod in passing though.

Lita glances sideways, and slowly, at the purple hulking snake creature- person? Doesn't seem to matter. She blinks slowly at it, the thing practically salivating at her. Lita shoots daggers from her eyes at Mahri for leaving her with this mess, but okay. She eyes Leo, who was barking for Nort to snag him some swill. All this before she turns her attention back to the Naga. "Help you?" She asks finally.

Nortengaal raises a brow at Lita’s somewhat cryptic statement, but doesn't ask about that, mainly because he doesn't know what to say to it. A slight shrug is given, everybody has a past after all, perhaps this Arien has an interesting one too. Nort is then distracted from the women’s whispered words by two things; firstly a rather large naga has squeezed their way into the bar and made their way over to their table to lurk directly behind Lita, and secondly, a familiar scent follows the naga into the bar. Speak of the devil and all that. Craning his neck a bit Nort spots the scent's owner around the bulk of the snakeperson and offers a wave, getting up to grab a glass of fire whiskey from the bar at the man’s request. He sets it down at Mahri’s recently vacated seat, opting to grab the remaining tankard of ale from the space. Waste not, want not.

Ina probably wouldn't have been salivating quite so much if Leo -hadn't- foolishly passed her cookies he'd -paid- her for. But here we were, cheeks surreptitiously stuffed with somehow-still-warm peanut butter. Still, she waits patiently for Lita's conversation to end before she finally breaks into her spiel, her voice coming out surprisingly normal despite the excessive distortion of her form, "Help me? No. No no no Nooooo." Her hands clap together, the Tin briefly used as an impromptu tambourine, before it's sent spinning onto the table the vampire was occupying- freeing up Ina's arms so she can try her hand at suavely slithering around the table and propping up an elbow on the opposite side. The whole, excessive length thing -might- make it a bit less genial lookin' though, "You asked me ta' help you, 'member? N' I came here ta deliver 1 bonafide Untamed treasure, Posthaste, forthwith, n' not even in your back, even though that woulda been -sorta- funny, in hindsight. Maybe if it'd been non-lethal? It'd defeat the point, but." Right, but enough talk, she had to rummage in her sleeve for it, "I've been -so- excited about this." Moreso than the murder book, which was almost certainly gonna be the death of someone.

Leoxander didn’t know what Ina was up to - he never did. But whatever it was, the finalist for the Vailkrin Blood Bowl could handle it. He hadn’t had a drink in twenty-four bells or more and after dealing with the trickster for the walk and the ferry ride over, he was definitely starting to itch for one. Or that was just the pixie dust still speckling his skin and hair here and there. Settling in Mahri’s old seat with a nod of thanks to the therianthrope, he apparently trusted Nortengaal well enough to kick it back in a hard swallow before he removed Lora’s wooden case from his pocket, picked out a smoke, and slid it toward the man who had been so kind as to serve him to share some of the fresh, hand rolled, herb laced cigarettes. He wasn’t entirely surprised to find the naga munching away, and technically… he hadn’t paid for the order - Loravelle had. But all in all, it was probably coming out of his pocket in the long run. Reaching over the bar in a blind search for a box of matches that Simon tossed him from down the way and Leo caught, one-handed, he lit the end and shook out the match to toss it into a glass ashtray with a tink of sound. Taking a drag, his words were accompanied by a bit of smoke as he interrupted just enough to ask. “They tell you the news?” Toward Lita. He meant the bowl, but whatever conversation had taken place without him might be cause for a pause of thought.

Lita lifts a hand and slams her palm atop the spinning tin with a thud to stop its trajectory across the table. No need for all that noise then. She shifts a little in her seat to keep from getting Naga slithered across her bare feet. But that's right, the trickster then. She nods an understanding. "Right. Looked a bit differen'ly then is all." She manages. "Thanks though, for the whole not stabbing bit. It's appreciated." She's rummaging around in the cookie tin as she talks, as if there might be something more appetizing than peanut butter cookies in there, but apparently not. Nose wrinkling slightly in disappointment, she glances to Leo when he asks about good news, then to Nort and then to the trickster before Leo again. "Let's assume not." She hadn't even had a moment to ask about who'd won the day's duel, as Mahri had sort of hijacked the way of conversation with more pressing matters. "Unless the good news is that Ina here's finally coughin' up what I assume will be good work?"

Nortengaal really should ask Leo where he gets these smokes is the thought going through his mind as he gratefully accepts the offer of one, lighting it with a little flame conjured between a thumb and forefinger. Nort takes a deep drag, holding the smoke in while he takes a quick drink from the bottle of fire whiskey in front of him before exhaling off to the side, accidentally blowing it towards the naga that’s currently saying many words at Lita. Leo’s question confuses the therianthrope momentarily, liquor-addled brain working a little slower than usual before he remembers not seeing Lita at today's bout. He thinks he’s figured it out, but better let the other man speak lest he speak on something he shouldn't.

Ina practically glows when Lita notices the, very clearly obvious, change in her appearance since the last time. "I know~ I'm so sleek, and shiny. 'N boy, there's somethin' ta be said for being this tall without heels." So the smile she gives might be a little bit too broad, but, that sort of thing happens when you microdose yourself with pixie dust due to carelessness. In any case, she -does- in fact, find what she's looking for in a few moments, the sheathed blade drawn out from a sleeve and placed between the pair of them. It's...not the prettiest sheathe, given that it's literally crafted out of the roughly tanned hide of an aberration that didn't really warrant talking about. And was also probably either classified by the necromancer or mages guild. "So, before I pass this' over ta ya- like, maybe try Lookin' away from the cap'n. 'N then saying hi." It's fine. He's good at huffing and puffing. "Oh, right- Though I should probably-" Her finger creeps over to the hilt, fingers flicking over the unornamented pommel and its uncanny pallor. Essentially, a bastardized version of bone china, whose consistency eschewed delicacy in favour of durability. And, maybe a touch of flavour. With a subtle nudge, the weapon starts to slide out of the sheathe, the mimic hide still partially adhering to the weapon due to its snug fit- though parting just enough to reveal the black metal beneath, alongside the curious rippling effect in the metal. An aficionado of forging might recognize the style, but, that's neither here nor there, "So, anyways- give it a try."

Leoxander hadn’t qualified the news as ‘good’, as he wasn’t sure how good it was. Mesdoram would have been an easy defeat at Lita’s hand. He didn’t have much tie to Khitt or Khitti but he knew them both well enough to be dangerous with their light orbs and practiced fists. “You’re goin’ up against red. But not the pretty one.” Even if Khitt might be considered ‘pretty’ to family and fans. He wasn’t exactly Leo’s type. No mention of dragging Mesdoram out of the ditch. The captain still wasn’t entirely sure why he did what he had done. He glanced passed Lita toward the naga. “I couldn’t tell you regardin’ the crow.” Simon was trusted enough he could use that group title openly. With pack and crew, the graying tavernkeep was the one he’d had ties with for too many years to count. There was a note of tension in the pirate’s shoulders when the disguised foxkin drew the weapon, but not enough to warrant him grabbing his own sheathed blade in return. Immediately thinking from the trickster’s warning it might be silver, he had no idea what to expect if Lita followed through to inspect that special delivery, but might have remained on guard watching, just in case.

Lita is eyeing the sheath when the trickster sets it on the table between them. It wasn't pretty but Lita had really made one particular request of the daggers creation. The aesthetic appeal of it, in truth, even its durability, is of secondary concern to her. That being considered, there might still be a twinkle of excitement in dark eyes that's rarely seen in public as she tugs the blade delicately from its entrapment. Because it is gorgeous. She curls her fingers around the hilt, as if it might break, testing its weight before the dagger is spun about her palm with the flick of her wrist before she's captured it again. She's not really listening to Leo share the news, she'll probably have to ask about it again. She lifts her opposite hand to trace the flat of the blade against her thumb. There's no verbal appreciation or admiration of the work, though she hasn't stopped grinning yet. "An' th' ashes?" She asks Ina then. Because that may very well determine whether or not the woman got paid at all.

Ina figures a bit of sleight of hand may be due here, her hand wriggling in an overly theatric display. Which has absolutely nothing to do with her other hand dipping back into her sleeve so she can pluck out an empty vial and flick it at her. After like, a minute of rummaging. But that's what the theatrical knuckle pops, and the brief coin trick is for. "In the blade. Gosh. Jus' no trust in dis world. It's like I'm some sorta untrustworthy figure that inspires second guessin'." She..might be casting a sidelong glance at Leo to say if her overdramatic exclamations might be enough to cause him to choke "I'm pretty proud of it though. What with it tryna kill me fer so long." Persnickety ingredients, n' all.

Ina said to Leoxander, "Rude, I gotta name."

Leoxander responded abruptly to the foxkin, "Which one?"

Ina said to Leoxander, "Tail's charmin' innit?"

Leoxander shrugged in answer. "Works."

Lita manages to pluck the empty vial from the air when it's tossed her way and she pockets it swiftly into her overcoat. "None." She grins at the trickster's mentioning of there being no trust left in the world. She manages a brief laugh at the fact that the blade was trying to kill its creator and somehow she's just not surprised. "I don't have to keep it in that, do I?" She asks, eyeing the sheath Ina had brought made of gods only knew what and pointing the blade towards it. Not that she'd mind so much, maybe, but she already had a sheath she tended to prefer. She turns to Leo then, as if just now registering his earlier statement. "Wait. Red. With the hair." As if Leo had been referencing that colour for another reason. She makes a contemplative sort of face at that. She didn't know much about them, honestly. Rumours. "Should be a good match." She says, already eyeing the new dagger again.

Lita said to Ina, "Are we going for charming?"

Ina grins right back at the vampire, "Smart 'n pretty. Be still my heart." This time, when the foxkin mockingly swoons, the effects substantially more dramatic- her upper torso diminishing so that her tail provides a more than ample cushion for her fall. Which, she doesn't even bother to fully rouse from. "Pfft. Ya'll be fine. Part of what took so long ta' make tha' damn thing was calming it the heck down n' gettin' everything I needed ta purify tha' metal the way I needed it to. " Despite the theoretical impracticalities which had also been murder-y. "I guess jus' don't hand it to a drow? Might get a little burn-y." As for Lita's last query, "I mean, I'm open ta' suggestions."

Leoxander nodded along, “Red. With the hair. The witch. But the man sort. He seems to have a skill in hand to hand but he pulled a helluva light show out his arse, today.” Naturally, Leo wasn’t beyond giving his friend some input on what he’d taken note of or noticed that day. If Nort didn’t share that bottle he was drinking out of Leo would procure one of his own, though he hand a few errands to run yet in that late hour. Yesterday afternoon, the Mouse had made the wolf take a break and rest, so he was full of energy to get a few things done tonight. Particularly in the cover of the dark. But for now, he would enjoy a second drink and maybe reach for Ina’s cookie jar, or tin, if he had the range from his seat to do so.

Lita said to Ina, "I like Tricks. Trix." She says it twice, forgetting for a moment that you can't see the way sounds are spelled. "They sound the same."

Leoxander chuffed half a laugh as he poured his drink, from some supply or another.

Lita nudges the cookies a bit closer to Leo to help the pirate out with his sweet tooth

Ina said said to Leoxander, "Not even if ja were the governor of this island~"

Lita lofts a brow at Ina and Leo, feeling like she's missed something.

Lita said to Leoxander, "The magic bits what I was a little worried about." She admits. Was. Still is. Worried. Terrified. Same difference."

Ina isn't gonna deprive Leo of his tin. It was his after all, wasn't it? Well, Loravelle's n' she was his- if the score was still where it stood last time. In any case, whilst Lita's suggestion mighta briefly coaxed a weird flinch, and then a rather abrupt bit of laughter from the pirate- she's pretty quick ta recover, "I think I could swing it. N' if we hang out more, maybe I can ask ja ta' teach me some new ones." The Faux-naga stretches, her elbows slipping back into her own coils, before properly addressing Leo, "So, is there anythin' else pendin' that I do owe ya at this point- or did I getcha up ta speed?"

Leoxander gave Ina a look that betrayed very little, taking a bite of that cookie that didn’t crumble as it should have after a couple hours or more in its case. “Yeah, I don’t blame you, but we don’t have a lot’a experts that study down that road.” Lanara was a witch, but his acquaintanceship with her husband Swan was still tentative at best, and he’d already supposedly been the cause of her death once. “Might be able to wrangle Orange back to the shores… not sure how well she’s trained but I know she’s aspirin’ to be like the Sin-Eater.” Also known as his ex, his enemy, his lover and hater all balled into one. There seemed to be a pattern there. Still focused on the foxkin turned naga as he helped himself to a drink from his refilled glass, a nod to Nortengaal for the pass, he raised a shoulder to maintain that air of arrogance and lack of concern, but did in fact reply. “You owe me a few hours, Tail. I need someone good at findin’ things.” Maybe even on that own island. But he was cautious with how much information he’d give away at that point, when it came to her. Oblivious to whatever had been recently discussed within those same walls. Had they considered Simon, though? Absently, to Lita, following Nort's earlier advice, "Doubt you could piss 'em off worse than that darkie did. They've been s***talkin' each other the whole damn Tourney."

Lita is glad to see her choice of nickname doesn't offend. "Trix it is then." Or Tricks. Her brain hurts. "An' if you're hangin' with the likes of this sort," she nods sideways at Leo here, "then you can pro'ly defin'ly use some new company." Except that Lita was usually Leo's company too, so. Grain of salt and all. She turns her attention to Nortengaal with the added advice and she's suddenly imagining some similar roundtable of the redhead and a few friends, discussing her. Oh to be a fly on that wall. "So, don't piss 'em off too much an' don' get hit." She nods at this advice, unsarcastically. "Or. Piss 'em off but give 'em some'in else to punch." New idea. Though not at all entirely or probably even a little bit formed yet. Semantics, as she usually just winged these types of things anyway. She glances to Leo when he mentions needing help finding things. "Mah's got that covered. With our help." She gestures to Nort here. "No worries." Not that she doesn't trust Ina. She doesn't. But the less people roped into this mess, the better. "Besides, I feel like Trix talents would be put to better use elsewhere."

Ina s attention drifts over to Nortengaal at this juncture, offering up a playful, "if ja like what ya see~ Though what I do, doesn't come cheap." Which might be the absolute worst thing she coulda said considering what pops out of Leo's mouth in her direction. And something which she sees fit to answer in what she dubs the most appropriate manner possible, "Ja think it'll take that long?" Still, she might be a -bit- curious, enough, at least, that she's a bit more attentive in her lounging, "I can extend my stay here, if that's a personal request." The fighting bits of this conversation might be less her purview- given she's less into bloodying mooks, and more bootlegging merch. But, she's pretty quick to catch Lita's interjection in regards to Leo's overture to a job, "That bad, or that good? Because- If it's that bad, I can hold my own." A part of her -wants- to further clarify, but that sort of talk was currently under literal lock and key. Or wherever Leo had stashed it.

Lita does not have time to unpack what just came out of Trix's mouth.

Leoxander didn’t outright blurt it as an insult, but he probably muttered to himself as he found a bit of humour in the title. “...Cheap trix.” Well, at least they’d managed to get a laugh out of the rogue who rarely did so, albeit quietly and snuffed out by another drink from his glass. But then he rounded back on Lita’s reassurance. “What, you mean you’ve got it covered?” He wasn’t used to getting days off, or not being included in some plan that well, frankly, he’d introduced to them, concerning what he considered to be his (their) island. Blue eyes shifted between Lita and Nortengaal, now, lantern lights catching that lycan shine briefly to each of them, pending their angle from his position.

Nortengaal gives the shapeshifter a long, considering look, partially over the liquor bottle as he takes another long drink from it. He’s steadily passing ‘buzzed’ and moving decidedly into ‘drunk’ territory, though outwardly not much would reflect the progression - for now anyways. After a moment he smirks and speaks, only a slight slur beginning to form in his words. “ ‘nd jus what is it you do ‘xactly?” While they’re clearly, at the least, some sort of weaponsmith, they also might be a baker considering the cookie display at the earlier bout, and Nort is curious as to what their answer will be. Turning his attention to Lita he nods. “ ‘Xactly. Tho I’d hafta guess that the hazard is gonna play a big factor in where else you can direct ‘is attention.”

Nortengaal winks at Leo theatrically. "Ya asked for some help, yeah? We got you."

Lita said to Nortengaal, "Not if the stands are still there for spectators. Environment may not be much a hindrance."

Ina might have enjoyed the opening Lita's bewilderment created, but Leoxanders comment actually manages to slip through. Enough that she feels it necessarily to chime in with, "'N ssstill too rich fer you." Whoops. There goes the lisp. She was doing so well, too. Nortengaal, at least, provides her something to focus on, given the other two seemed to be engaged in a -not-wholly-spoken power struggle of sorts. "Lemme know when ya know." Because right now, she has- Wait, he's like, getting close to sheets to the wind. "Ja lookin' a bit unsteady. How 'bout ya sidle over here, n' I can walk it ya through it. ..With small words, rather than the entertainers' assortment." She makes a beckoning motion with her tail, and taps it against a nearby chair. Which, well. She's also still coiled around. "..Wow did I get out of hand."

Lita does not elaborate on this as she turns back toward Leo. "You gave us a job. Can't go outsourcin' it to another crew same day!" She feigns offence. And yes, same flock, different feathers, all well and fine, she knows. "We got a plan in play is all I'm saying. You go recruitin' the rest o' the birds to do the same, you'll have us trippin' and backsteppin' over each other and nothing gets done."

Lita said to Ina, "Speaking of," not that they were, "What's do I owe yah still?"

Leoxander couldn’t give Ina enough warning looks for a lifetime, so he didn’t bother, then. The fact was he trusted the trio - had to trust them - for all they’d seen him through. He’d been a lone wolf off and on for a long time and it was secretly comforting to have those who had his back. Maybe with time ‘Tail’ would recognize that feeling. Her comment was only cause for him to finish off his drink and he stood, grabbing a few tins of cookies from the box to leave for Simon before he headed back toward the crate to carry it, and whatever doppelganger of evil item he’d managed to keep out of sight. “I gotta check on the Mouse an wash this crap off me. No more dust, Trix.” He reminded as he took up the case.

Ina might have briefly pouted, but, it's quick to fade as a fresh offer of fiscal fun is levied her way, "Well, ja covered the downpayment, so I was thinkin' of askin' ya fer a -favour- instead. I occasionally need ta snag some materials ta -make- fine work like I did fer you. N', it's a tricky process on my own, or wit' a limited crew. So, if ya were up ta helpin' me fer a few gigs, I'd consider us even." She pauses there, and tilts her head towards Leo, "Jus' try holdin' yer breath next time." There's a pause, and she perks up, "Or we could have a signal. I could feign death! And then we switch roles." She's already prepped for the irritation, and potential anger that one mighta stirred, which is why she's got a conciliatory tone ready to go, "But fine. I will -try-." A pause, and quietly, "to give warning."

Lita tucks the new dagger back into the ungodly sheath Trix had brought with and tucks it safely into an inside pocket of her overcoat. She finds a peanut butter cookie in there. Who knows how long it's been there? Or why. She adds it to the tin on the table and pretends like nothings happened. "Consider it a deal." She nods to Trix as she stands and she regards Nort here, who's been dragged closer to the Naga. "Me 'n' you should have a drink soon." She nods, not entirely convinced he'll remember all of this later. "Want a hand?" She offers Leo. "I need to get home myself."

Leoxander nodded to Lita. He could handle the crate but at the very least they could walk together as far as the villa. And so the two headed out with a look back that spoke the 'see ya later' he did not voice out loud. Nort' would be well enough, drunk or not. Simon knew by now he was the pirate's ally.

Nortengaal ’s brow furrows in confusion. Now, he knows he's a little slower than usual on the uptake due to his current condition, but Ina’s response to his question is not at all what he expected. Following their invitation to switch seats he shrugs, taking up his bottle as he stands a touch unsteadily, pausing to take another drink before moving to sit on the offered chair, unceremoniously kicking his feet up on the snake coils surrounding the chair. “I'll take the assortment thank ya v’ry much.” he says with a touch of indignation. As Leo seems to make to leave, Nort tips the bottle towards the man before taking another long drink. “Safe travels mate, tell Lora I said ‘ello. Good luck with th’dust.” And another tip-and-drink to Lita as she also makes to leave. “Sounds good t’me friend. Gotta plan some ink, among other things.”

Ina isn't necessarily the best sort of person to cozen to. Sure, she's unnecessarily fortunate in most matters that she attends to- but, that sort of serendipity doesn't quite...extend to her acquaintances. Especially when she chooses to be a bit cozier, given she's got the rather nasty propensity to intrinsically filch a bit of fortune from contact- like the sort that could be languidly established through a careful twining of coils about his legs, even as she goes to casually pop a hand and chin along his shoulder, the other clawed limb already extending out as though to point out some distant landmark, "Nnn' that case, if yer lookin' ta be both entertained and enlightened, n' sparing not a second fer any semblance of swiftness- we may as well have ourselves a time. And in this case, ja can call me Trish, of Trish' Untamed treasures. Where I dally in delightful (or deadly), decoctions and delicacies. N' yet, if it's not an appetite for the unknown that steers ya, but a hunger fer' battle, I still gotcha covered." She hooks a thumb at the now departed forms of the pair, "Weapons n' other odds and ends. Specialty pieces, fer' tha' discernin' eye lookin' ta survive." It's a great pitch, and more importantly- it's meant to be a distracting one, so she can just...borrow a bit of poor Norts fortune for the next ...while. In the sense that if he has been kept spellbound by her spiel, she should extricate herself from him, if she doesn't want to rob herself of the chance of repeat clientele.

Nortengaal is in fact quite enthralled with the shapeshifters spiel, and that in addition to his recent liquor intake means that even if he normally had the sense to notice…something being siphoned away surreptitiously, he certainly doesn’t sense it now. The near future is sure to be quite interesting for the hapless therianthrope. The part about specialty pieces in particular piques his interest. “Well Trish, gotta say I’mma big fan of both weapons and odds n ends.” he says, before depositing yet more booze into his body. As she unfurls herself from around him and the chair he’s in, it suddenly gives way beneath him, one of the legs splintering, and he falls, a rather large splinter piercing his outer thigh on the way down. It seems his fortune has already taken a turn for the worse, slight though it may be - for now. Cursing, he picks himself up and dusts himself off, drunkenly oblivious to the shard of wood in his leg. That obliviousness won't last terribly long; as he goes to sit down at his previous seat, his leg nearly buckles underneath him, almost sending him back down to the floor. Catching himself on the table he curses some more before managing to sit down, attention now completely diverted from Trish, should she wish to make her exit unnoticed, or at least untethered by further questions for now.

Ina offers a concerned tsk as Norts fortunes already curdle, hinting perhaps, at how thin they were to begin with. She'd have to be careful with this one, though she'd appreciated his patience, "Well- We can talk shop when you've had more water. Business over drinks may be common practice, but I think ya'd agree, it's not the time ta' sign contracts." She leans forward then, a playful tap of her finger to his forehead, "Ja might want ta call the servin' staff, n' maybe get somethin' solid in ya. ...Other 'n table scraps." And she's gone, slinking away to make good use of this bit of mischief.