Tall and tan and young and lovely | open

[pyrazine]

WHO: Luana Marcos and the good people of this world
WHAT: Open log for CR purposes
WHEN: Time is a construct and life a prison
WHERE: The Gallows and Kirkwall
NOTES: Save this child from herself.

Growing up in Rocinha does something to a girl; it makes her unable to trust things like hiring boats. Getting pushed around (to say the least) at least once a day by someone who is supposed to be your guardian probably doesn't help either, but if Luana were going to point out where did this shitty attitude come from, she would likely say it was growing up in the one of the biggest slums in Rio.

But after a few days of walking around the Gallows, she was getting stir crazy. Even in Minas, which was boring as hell, she had work to do. In theory she knows she can find work to do around here, but it's a new day and she's still not sure that she wants to. No one here has stepped up so far to prove that they were worth working for.

Getting to Kirkwall is, well. Not easy enough, but easier done than getting back. She spends the day sort of keeping a low profile, which is simple enough for someone used to places far more dangerous than this. She takes a few moments to check out the local dog life - always good to know what might be willing to chase her if she shifts - and the other things that a city might hold. She's doing that thing that people who know how to steal, borrow, lie, or sneak do, where she is clearly casing the joint, the joint, in this case, being the entire damned town.

Meeting her there is easy enough.

The not easy part is when she gets back to where she ditched the boat, and finds that there is no boat. No way back except maybe to swim, and she's not entirely sure she wants to do that; at least not yet. Meeting her at the docks is another thing entirely, because while in the city she looked casual, here she looks harried, annoyed, kicking rocks into the water.

What the actual hell.


[meet her in kirkwall or trying to get back to the gallows, either works for me! if you'd like anything specific don't hesitate to pm me. action brackets or prose both acceptable]

Comments

[pyrazine]

She can do that. She looks at the coin, and then at him, and considers her options, but a moment later she's off. She doesn't quite know why she's like this, but he smelled honest, at least at this moment. There wasn't the stink of a man who might fuck her over.

She shifts about halfway there, and runs the rest of the way, fucking overjoyed at the sudden speed, at the way her legs move. She hasn't done this since she arrived, not really, not run. She manages to find a place to shift back that's private, although the rumor of a strange, long-legged dog that no one's seen before might start soon.

She comes back with what he asked for, her nose finding the best fish, the freshest bread, and cheese that might be considered perfectly adequate. She comes up, lanky and pleased at the sudden direction, and also slightly embarrassed by it. "Hey, old man," she says, her grin wicked. "Here."

[esquive]

By the time she returns, Marcoulf has settled easily back into the shadow of the heavy old portcullis. It's cooler there by a handful of degrees and a breeze ocassionally stirs through the passage. In the grand scheme of spending a hot day standing around professionally, there are worse places to do it.

He doesn't seem surprised to see her again, though a small piece of him is. Instead, he unhooks his wrist from where he'd had it draped across the silvered pommel of the fine sword at his side. He takes the bundle from her with only a skeptical sidelong look - he's not old, girl - and takes a moment to inspect the results.

The cheese gets a sniff, the pleasantly hard crust of the bread a hollow flick. Apparently satisfied, Marcoulf reaches for his purse. "You'll do me one more favor?"

[pyrazine]

She manages to bite back the initial response - as long as it isn't sucking your dick - a response that would have gotten her a cuff from Aluisio, for that matter. Instead she leans back against the same wall he's standing near, her long legs in front of her. She looks like a creature of habit, and she also looks like someone comfortable with this particular location.

At someone's side.

"What is it?" she asks, because she's not going to say yes or no without details. She might be willing but she's not stupid. She doesn't trust him yet.

[esquive]

The silver coin is indeed produced. He brandishes it, though doesn't yet hand it over. He fixes her with a pointed look, one eyebrow quirked.

"If you're going to be picking pockets, do it on some other street. I don't want to be bothered by it or the guard asking questions."

[pyrazine]

Her mouth flattens then, right away, and she looks deeply displeased. Aluisio would give her a smack to the head if she stole, but more importantly than that, stealing hasn't been her life for almost two years now. She gives him a long look. "First," she says, the growl deep in her chest, "if I were going to steal from anyone, only fools get caught."

She moves forward, and her hand catches the coin, fast. Faster than most people can move. Suddenly she looks like a threat. "Second, I'm not a thief," she emphasizes.

If he had suggested it, she might not be offended. But he flat out said it. Is it the color of her skin that makes him think that? Or her hair? Or the smell that lingers around her - that's not her fault. "Third-" she says, but then shakes her head and takes a step back. Whatever third was, she's not saying it. Instead she lifts her head, proud. "Fuck you."

[esquive]

It would be hard, maybe impossible, to not catch the jagged edge of her affront, pouring from her in a wave. But Marcoulf, with his hand hooked idly in his sword belt and his face cast in shadow from the imposing portcullis above them, has done a heroic job of ignoring or dismissing it in favor of simply looking at her, apparently unperturbed if not unconvinced.

Instead, he pulls a chunk from the bread and pairs it with a corner of the cheese. He tips his head to indicate the street, the stairs leading up into the city. "Go on then."

[pyrazine]

She takes a breath.

Memorizes the way he smells.

Points to her eyes, and then to him, and saunters off.

Hope you like the smell of maned wolf piss, asshole.