[OPEN] deal me in

[unshut]

WHO: Fitcher + you and also you
WHAT: A weekly card game
WHEN: At some point every week, without fail
WHERE: The Gallows
NOTES: Catch-all mingle space; threadjacking encouraged and time is an illusion. Threads are not required to have anything to do with cards or even include Fitcher; may be before/after the game etc. No rules, just right; get your banter and gossip on.

There are really only two rules to play at Fitcher's table: you mustn't be a bad sport, and come prepared with conversation.

In theory, an invitation and the lady in questions presence are also required but both those guidelines have been broken: anyone who shows up in the the dining hall on the right evening who displays any interest in the game being played at one of the tables earns themselves an invite; and at least once Fitcher has appeared, slung back a single glass of wine, then announced, "I've work elsewhere tonight, but I expect a full account of all that occurs," before disappearing into the night.

It's sometimes loud and it's sometimes quiet. There are nights where more drinking is done and others with only a single shared bottle. Sometimes there are enough players to warrant splitting the game and sometimes it's just Fitcher, lying out a spread for Solitary as she smokes from a pipe and occupies herself with a little evening bookkeeping.

It's pleasant. It's a good distraction. One should never think too hard about these things.

Comments

there are five lights.

[justashotaway]

[Laura nods again, the tilt of her head barely perceptible this time, and waits for the woman to finish before she touches anything. Even when all the cards are laid out in their piles, a breath goes by before she reaches for the first stack.

The cards are smooth and soft at the edges, as if they've been handled so often they no longer remember what it feels like not to be, fitting easily against her palm. She turns first one and then another, slowly examining the painted snakes with the solemnity of someone reading her own writ of execution. As simple as they are, they're still among the most beautiful things she's ever seen.]

[unshut]

"Not at all." Which could just as easily mean Do go on or summarize the totality of her interest in poets, couldn't it? With a quirking eyebrow and a sip from her cup, Fitcher discards the first card and begins play.

Your turn.

[murderbaby]

Mhavos is not a fantastic card player. He's middling at best, and has always enjoyed the social aspect more than winning. He never had much to loose, anyway.

"Are you familiar with the translations of La Comtesse de Séces? Her translations are likely the best." He assumes she doesn't know Orlesian, at least, not well enough to read poetry in it even if she wanted to.

[unshut]

[Across from her, Fitcher has laced her fingers together and now sets her chin there on the cradle they form. And she waits, patient and without interruption, as the girl conducts her rigorous self serious examination. She's a small little thing, isn't she? All sinew and narrow as a knife is. Nevarran, she would guess by the sound of her and maybe even by the pitch color of her hair.

Eventually, she finally says,]

Would you like to know a secret about these cards in particular?

[justashotaway]

[She's easily absorbed in the process of learning something new, frowning over each card in turn and carefully piling them back in their order. It's a near thing that she hears the woman at all--but it's hard to become so completely lost in a task that she doesn't listen for danger. And it doesn't happen tonight.

She glances up with a little start, almost guilty at the interruption, but settles back into stiff neutrality a moment later.]

Yes.

[unshut]

Meanwhile, Fitcher seems as reliable a player as one can be without a talent for cheating. She is familiar with the cards, with the game, with the stakes, and with the wine. What more is there to breeding a laissez faire sort of comfort?

"I'm not very good with names. Has any of her work been put to music?"

[murderbaby]

So Mhavos places his cards with a studied confidence, but no great luck or grater knowledge beyond the next move. They haven't set their bets, anyway, but if she demands one, he has more time to his own than he's ever had in his life. Surely she'll want some chore done discreetly.

"Are you asking me to sing?"

[unshut]

You must promise not to tell anyone.

[Given the near monosyllabic nature of half this conversation thus far, it seems unlikely. But one can never be too careful.]

[unshut]

A shrug, as easy as her smile.

"If you like."

[justashotaway]

[Laura's gaze remains level, serious.]

I do not tell secrets.

[murderbaby]

Just gonna assume that's a joke...

"As I have no reason to dislike you, I'll spare you the travesty. Have you ever heard If Ever Two Were One? I've heard that was popular in Trade."

[unshut]

"Ah." Which, with that intonation, is I Know That One in every language, though Fitcher goes as far as humming some variation of the tune as she debates the contents of her hand.

"I should have guessed the words were written by a woman of some means. That entire second stanza--" A click of the tongue. "Well, it's not really a song for the public house, is it?"

She lays a card, draws another.

what game are they even playing, waves hands ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[murderbaby]

It's a good song. It's a better poem, but Mhavos can admit to bias.

"I will admit the Trade translation is somewhat... bawdier," Mhavos says with a chuckle, "but it is fashionable for Orlesian nobles to write eroticism under a nom de plume. There are entire books of erotic verse-- not generally committed to song, though."

He lays down his card, matching hers in suit but not number, before drawing another.

[unshut]

[Which earns her a look of approval. Good.]

I trust you. [So, the start of a story:] Now, this particular deck is a souvenir from a young lady I once knew in the foothills near Hasmal. Do you know the place?

[justashotaway]

[That expression, Laura recognizes--and there's a warm sensation in her chest in recognition of it. She said the right thing.

So she tries to say the right thing again.]

It is one of the Free Marches.

[She's fairly sure of that, if not entirely. And she certainly hasn't been.]

[hornswoggle]

"Does it go by other names?"

John levers himself down onto the bench across from her as he speaks, eyeing the cards with interest.

"I'm willing to lose a few hands getting familiar with it, either way."

Hard to say how truthful either statement is. John's willing to play, at least. Willing to lose? Actually unfamiliar? Who knows.

[thereneverwas]

Oh, I can blame you all I like. [He adds some bluster to the theatrics, furrowing his brow like a disapproving uncle.] You're intent on having me for a fool, and you'll probably succeed, and at the very least I'm allowed to whinge about it.

[He sighs, bends down for a moment, and returns with one of his boots, which he plants decisively on the table.]

[unshut]

[Which is delightful. Fitcher laughs, and it's a low pleasant sound.]

You make it sound so personal, Serah. Would it make you feel more better or less if I were to swear an oath that I'm intent on having everyone at this table for a fool, and not just you?

[Which she punctuates with a wink about the table for good measure.]

[overharrowed]

"I would be very much surprised if the thought had not at least occurred to her," he says, lightly, "but I'm afraid I've no particular insight on that score."

Perhaps a contradiction to the generally understood state of his relationship with the aforementioned. And interesting to follow with:

"We could certainly do worse, in my view, but I doubt that will surprise anyone particularly given her track record. Nor can I say any of the candidates from outside have been particularly impressive."

[overharrowed]

"Ah. Satisfying, I hope, if not exactly exciting by most standards." While mathematics aren't his area of expertise, his temperament is methodical enough to understand the appeal. A job well completed is its own reward, etc.

"Has it been a significant headache, accounting-wise, to break off from the Inquisition? I confess, I haven't much knowledge of how separate our books were or weren't before the schism." He does seem genuinely interested, though more in the way of someone making conversation than someone invested deeply in the answer.

[thereneverwas]

To tell the truth, I might feel a little less special.

[He breaks his theatrical scowl to wink.]

Now deal, damn you.

[unshut]

As you like.

[So she does. And round the table goes the wagering and into the pot goes another one of her hairpins and a little ring from her finger.]

I'm afraid that's all the jewelry. Would you care to raise?

fake fantasy card games is what

[unshut]

"I suppose all that time spent idle lends well to the contemplation of all sorts of things. I imagine that without the demands of routine, the rest of us might also spend a little more time on describing one another's flesh as prettily as possible."

Beside the pair, she begins a new branch on the tree - matched in color, but neither suit nor number. The points are less impressive, but she's of a mind to follow up on it on her turn next.

"Tell me - are you a poet, serah?"

[unshut]

Just so. On the very border of Nevarra. This particular lady and I became fast friends over the course of the few weeks I spent on her mother's estate where I had been hired on to practice some clerking for the season. One evening, as we sat by the fire playing cards with this very deck you see before you now, a wolf came down from the foothills and made its way into the estate where it began to terrorize the stock.

I will admit that it was a lucky shot which slew the beast, but the fact is that I did make quick work of it and we were happily returned to our cards. When my work was over, the young lady sent me along with this deck as a thank you present.

[There had been a farm in the foothills South and East of Hasmal where a girl's brother had become a monster. There is no brother left; and she would not be surprised to find the farm similarly rotted away. But perhaps the girl is happy somewhere.]

But that is not the secret. The secret is that I've had these cards for nearly a decade and I know every scratch on them. Which [Fitcher smiles] makes it very easy to cheat at cards when someone allows me to play with them.

[unshut]

"I believe it's sometimes called Euchre in Ferelden. I am willing to be your mentor of course, but you must swear that you will rally before we are bankrupted. I'd prefer not to leave with an empty pocket tonight, as I owe a small sum in a Lowtown gambling house at present and was hoping to work it off here among friends."

With a nod to the other pair of (painfully anonymous and definitely not just placeholders) players about the table.

"You and I are to be partners in this, sir. I trust you to apply yourself."