faderift | [ OPEN ] Your Life's in Danger, Every Enemy's a Stranger

[ OPEN ] Your Life's in Danger, Every Enemy's a Stranger

WHO: Avery and YOU perhaps???
WHAT: Just a few open prompts!
WHEN: Throughout the month
WHERE: The Gallows, Kirkwall
NOTES: no warnings as of yet? except for a potty mouth baker and maybe potential mild violence in one prompt

I. The Gallows Kitchens

Running a kitchen this size is the kind of madness Avery wasn't sure she was actually cut out for when she first took on the responsibility, but over these last few months she's somehow managed to pull it off with only a few minor mishaps. That's not to say it's easy (and it's definitely not to say it isn't stressful, as anyone who speaks to Avery frequently can tell you), but she's not collapsing under the pressure just yet.

Still, it's nice every once in a while to have a moment of silence here as well. Without all the hustle and bustle and moving parts to keep in line like there were just a few hours ago, the kitchen is almost peaceful as Avery stands alone at one of the tables flattening out some sort of half-finished pastry with a rolling pin, and there is no scowl to be seen on her face at all. Truly it must be a miracle! I mean, she looks almost serene, really, and instead of shouting at anyone, is she... is she humming?

I take it back. This isn't a miracle. She's possessed! Somebody do something!

II. Dock Market Stall

Ahhh, now this is more like it. Anyone who happens to be visiting the docks near the stalls where the fresh catch is being sold will be able to see a non-possessed Avery arguing quite loudly with one of the shopkeeps. As best as one can gather, the old man seems rather insistent on one particular price for prawns and believes the scowly, foreign blonde girl less than half his age and mass should just take it or leave it.

"Don't you try and bullshit me," she... respectfully disagrees. "I know bloody well what season it is, and I also know there's no one else coming out here to buy the whole catch in one. So you can stand here all day in the sun hawking these at twice their worth and letting half go to waste at the end, or you can give me the lot for a decent price and be done for the day. Go have yourself a drink, hm?"

...well, damn.

III. Lowtown Tavern

Speaking of drinks, everybody deserves to have one on occasion, right? Not just mildly patronizing fishmongers? So that is exactly what Avery intends to do.

Sure, she could have chosen somewhere nicer. This place is a bit of a dive, even by Lowtown standards, but a bar like this is not a big leap from the place Avery was born and raised for the first nine years of her life, and she seems a little more chatty than usual here, if not any less snarky. Thankfully, many of the people here seem to appreciate that sort of humor, because otherwise the few sly questions she slips in about a friend she's been trying to contact recently might not have gone over so well.

I'm sure other, perhaps more familiar company wouldn't go unappreciated though, if there's anyone who doesn't mind slumming it a bit.

IV. Back Alley

Look, she's no idiot. Despite what you may have heard.

Avery knows not to trust just anyone who tells her they know exactly where to find her friend if she has a little coin to trade for the information and doesn't mind finding a little privacy for this discussion. It's just that she's getting a little desperate at this point, and she's fairly confident she can handle it if this person gives her any trouble. At least riiiight up until the moment they actually do tell her to hand over her money or she'll meet her friend at the Maker's side, and they nod to their friends blocking both entrances to the alley.

Okay, this might be a little troublesome.

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Every few days there's a delivery of cooking herbs from the Gallows garden, and though it tends to be performed by this or that runner, periodically Sina brings them herself when it's on the way.
Today is one such day, the basket almost comically large to be held by such a waifish creature, and she fulfills its destiny by losing her grip on it moments before it meets the countertop. Herbs rustle to the floor in a scattered pile, at least for the most part still bundled.
"Teldirthalelin," Sina hisses, crouching to begin picking them up.

Avery jumps, too lost in her own head to even notice Sina's entrance until the clatter of things falling startles her out of her reverie. Thankfully not enough for her to knock anything else over and cause even more mess, but still. Not a fun surprise.

"Shit," she mumbles to herself, then makes her way over to the mess, dusting as much flour from her hands as she can onto her apron before leaning down to help. "All right there?"

"I'm fine," Sina replies, exasperated, but as she picks up the bundles, she casts a faint apologetic smile up at Avery. "It can get a bit heavy." By the looks of the basket and its contents, it doesn't seem too heavy for even a small person to carry, but... well. Who knows.
Hefting it up onto the counter, Sina wipes her brow. "...cooking herbs," she clarifies, breaking into more of a smile. What an entrance.

"Can't do much without them," Avery confirms with a small nod as she stands as well. Then she tilts her head slightly, tongue running over her teeth briefly. "Well, we could but not such as many would care for, yeah?"

She looks the girl over a moment, trying to remember if they've met before (the passing, surreal thought of how short a time ago it truly was that she was still convinced the Dalish were bogeymen made up to scare farmers' boys into staying in at night flitting in and out in an instant) and eventually asking, "You're one of the gardeners then? Or a... courier maybe?"

Still catching her breath, Sina just nods and smiles to Avery's joke, seeming to appreciate it even if she isn't beside herself with laughter. Her smile diminishes slightly at the question, but she holds her pleasantry well.
"The head gardener," she replies, "it's nice to make rounds sometimes." Periodically she forgets that there are certain assumptions about elves, feeling fairly immune to them in her day-to-day work.

If it helps, Avery doesn't seem to doubt her claim at all??

Though she does suddenly look kind of irritated and shake her head, grumbling, "Oh. It really shouldn't have taken this long for us to meet." That stupid seneschal. Hasn't he ever heard of coordination?! So many of the departments under him would work so much smoother if he wasn't so terrified to do anything other than just tell each of them to individually run themselves.

Not that she makes it clear who her ire is actually directed at. Oops?

"Avery. Head cook."

It does help. Sina's hackles lower again, the pleasantness returning as she smiles at Avery, somewhat apologetically. "That may be my fault," she admits, "I don't get about as much as I likely should."

Avery waves it off easily enough and mutters, "Forget it." Obviously it's that other guy's fault.

"Sure you're as busy as I am over here." Not right this second of course, but usually. Speaking of which... now that the herbs are safe and sound, Avery does a quick rinse of any herbal residue from her hands and then gets back to rolling some sort of doughy substance into a wide, thin sheet on the counter. "This has to be done before the pastry warms overmuch, so you can leave those and I'll manage them first chance I get."

It isn't a dismissal, really, but it also isn't an invitation to stay. She just sorta leaves it to Sina to decide what she wants to do next.

Even if it were a dismissal, Sina doesn't mind; Avery's made it clear they're equals, and that's good enough for her. It's not that Sina didn't already know, but sometimes it's nice to be reminded that people aren't so bad, that the shem'len are more than corpses who tried and failed to ruin them.

"If you require a different selection, send me a note," she calls, retrieving her basket once its contents are on the counter, "I'll see that the right amount are delivered." With a small smile, she ducks out the door again.

And look, Ciri definitely didn't follow Avery to this back alley because that would be weird. Weirder still is said Warden strolling down the street, munching down on an apples until she notes a familiar flash of blonde hair. For a moment, she stares and then blinking before heading forward.

"Avery?" She says, rudely ignoring the dude trying to block the entrance she is coming from because who is this clown anyway? Or any of these clowns??

Oh, nevermind. These guys are fucked.

She isn't exactly sure what Ciri is doing here right now?? But she'll take it. "Evening, love," Avery answers stiffly, not quite turning in that direction, so she can keep each of these goons within the periphery of her vision as they adjust to the presence of this new potential threat and/or source of income. "This gent says if I give him all my gold, I get to live. Sound like a fair deal to you?"

"Honestly, you should have told me. This is just the most perfect sort of date."

Welcome to the Thunder Dome, bitches.

This Grey Warden isn't dressed in her typical armor, hard leather and chain mail mostly but her sword is proudly belted to her back. The only give away is the griffin proudly displayed across her tunic. For now, she eats her apple and quietly listens until Avery finish with her eyes cutting to who she assumes is the one in charge.

"Hardly fair at all. I'm a master at these sort of rules, you know. So I'll throw in a wager: They give you what you need, and then they get to leave this shite alley not cute open like a roast pig."

Edited 2017-09-21 05:03 (UTC)

Sure, obviously there's a moment of hesitation. Ciri is heavily armed and even in this poor lighting they still might be able to make out the symbol of her order, but these people still have the numbers advantage and Avery is still just some unarmed girl in an alley, right?

Which is why, as one of them starts to draw his own short sword and throw some sort of threat back in Ciri's direction, he doesn't see it coming when Avery just suddenly kicks him in the groin hard enough to practically lift the guy off his feet for a second.

"We all knew that's where this was going, right?"

( ooc: sorry about the wait! gmail has been devouring my messages and filtering them into spam for some reason. :( )

Ciri doesn't respond to the threat with any sort of motion beyond rolling her shoulders. Her hand moves, not reaching for her sword but adjusting just enough to loosen the hold on her throwing knives held in places along her form.

Two knives are in her hand when Avery attacks, and for a moment, Ciri is love. Just how lucky is she? More importantly though:

"The lot of them rather put it on themselves, threatening folks in alleyways like this. How cliche, huh? Like a bloody Tethras novel this one."

As the one poor bastard dry-heaves onto the dirty cobbles and struggles to get back up off his knees, the others finally snap out of their surprise and make their moves.

The man-- oh wait, sorry, woman (credit where credit is due to a lady making it in the male-dominated field of back-alley thuggery) nearest Avery is fortunately only wielding a knife, sharp as it appears to be. Avery is able to keep her distance more easily than she might have if she was dealing with a longer weapon, through a couple of feints and quick side-steps. She even manages to kick an abandoned, half-broken crate in between them, giving her enough space to shoot a look in Ciri's direction and ask, "You really read that tripe?"

"Tripe? He is a national treasure, Avery!"

What a pair, honestly. How did these thugs end up in a situation like this? As Avery handles their leader, Ciri flips one of her knives and throws it with precision into one of the other's shoulders. As he yells, she moves and drives the knife further in with a quick push. Where did they find thugs these days? This was just sad.

"Besides: I was stuck in Weisshaupt for awhile, we didn't have a whole lot to do."

"You--"

Well, whatever she was about to say is cut off as the woman Avery is fighting shouts at the two of them to shut up and lunges wildly with the knife. And okay, maybe it means taking a bit of a cut in the struggle, but Avery sees an opportunity in that frustrated overreach and instead of dodging just grabs for the woman's arm, managing to eventually wrestle the blade free and send it tumbling down the alley.

Then she grins, because now it's a proper fistfight.

This lady? This lady right here, shouting about prawns? She's mad. It's obvious. Normally he'd stay away from crazy people, if only because a) you don't know what they're about to do and b) they tend to draw an audience. But as yet, there isn't anyone standing to watch this bit of street theatre, and so Haelan makes his move. She's got to have a decent bit of coin on her, if she wants to buy up all the stinking shrimpy things. If she's got coin, he'll have some.

The fishmonger knows him, but his attention is so completely fixated on the crazy lady, Haelan sidles up to the stall like any other patron, his arms clasped behind his back, all casual. So casual most people would be suspicious, but they're so caught up in the price of fish that they don't seem to notice him.

His knife is in his hand in a second- sharp and small, perfect for cutting open the bottom of a cloth coin purse, or cutting the fastenings on a leather one. He's just about to slice into this one in fact, when the fishmonger gives in, deciding that packing up early with a pint if probably worth it.

And then his attention flickers to the boy with his hand at the lady's purse.

Oooops?

Dammit! She really should've noticed him earlier, given the number of these kids she's had to deal with in her neck of the Denerim slums.

Hell, one wrong turn and she would've been one of those kids. But instead, she's the head cook for the Gallows, trying to feed an entire base full of Inquisition agents and guests on a budget, and at the look on the shopkeep's face, Avery makes the connection before he can even say anything. Her hand snaps out, faster and stronger than she looks, to try to snatch the thief by the wrist.

"You lost?" she growls.

This is not an expense she plans to write off.

Haelan twists, trying to turn his arm and break the vice-like grip on his wrist. It's no good, her hold is tight and strong and she looks really mad.

Not crazy mad. Angry mad. She looks like she could happily kick him all the way to Hightown and back again, or worse.

And her question doesn't strike him as one of those rhetorical ones. She probably wouldn't be very happy if he tried being funny either, she doesn't look like she'd enjoy a joke just at the moment.

"Er..." He begins, trying to find an out, trying to decide if he could kick her in the knee and make a run for it. He might be able to hide out in Darktown for a while, maybe overnight, and by then she'd be gone. But that might not be a good survival option.

"No?" He offers, trying to look as innocent as possible, as if this is the first offence. "Sorry serah. Won't happy again serah."

At first all he gets in response is a very unladylike grunt. Sure, a likely story.

For a long moment she just stares him down, trying to decide what to do with this kid. There must be a guard around here somewhere, right? Or hey, who couldn't use a little forced labor to peel potatoes or something for hours on end? But as satisfying as that mental image may be, she doesn't have the time, the energy, or the inclination to make it happen right this second, so instead she lets go of his arm, not quite shoving the boy but not being particularly gentle about it either.

"Best not," she advises. "Some are like to keep any hands they catch. With or without the rest of you."

He takes a step back as she lets go- if only to rebalance himself and prevent himself falling on his backside. That's not what he wants to do. It's bad enough being caught by a girl, but he's not about to fall on his arse just because she wasn't very gentle with letting go of his wrist.

And because he's a teenage boy, and she's really pretty despite the grunt, he's not just going to turn tail and run. Although logically, he should do.

"You can keep my hand if you like," He says, eyebrows moving suggestively in a way he's learnt from Adasse. Now he's not actually being held onto, it's far easier to be braver. That being said, he's more than happy to run as soon as it looks like she's going to grab him again.

Maker preserve her, she is too old, too taken, and too gay for anything that is happening right now.

There's probably a few clever, hand-related comebacks that could be employed by someone with a bit more wit and showmanship, given the very strange public spectacle they're surely making of themselves by this point. But nobody has ever accused Avery's social skills of being a rapier more than a frying pan to the face, so instead she just blurts out, "Are you fucking kidding me? You're trying this on now?"

The boy shrugs, as if to say it's worth a try. Besides, she was never going to take him up on the offer, he knows that, and considering she had him by the scruff of the neck, his ego can't get any more bruised.

"I'll take that as a no, shall I, serah?" He says, in a way very reminiscent of his elven friend. Adasse is the real showman, but Haelan knows a few tricks. The fishmonger is laughing, tears rolling down his face, and maybe the fiery lady will get a better discount on her shrimp.

Not that it'll do Haelan any good, but he is getting away with all his limbs.

"Until next time," He says, giving her a quick and ultimately ridiculous bow, and then running off as fast as he can, just in case she does decide to give him a kick.

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[ OPEN ] Your Life's in Danger, Every Enemy's a Stranger

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