open

[bouchonne]

WHO: Byerly & Kitty & you
WHAT: Open log! Assorted prompts!
WHEN: Months of Harvestmere & then Firstfall
WHERE: In and around Kirkwall
NOTES: If you're not into this junk tell me what junk you're into and I'll give you that junk

Prompts in comments my pretties. If none of em catch your fancy, then just throw up something that does.

Comments

docks. night. up to no good.

[bouchonne]

[ On a foggy damp night, one of those nearly-moonless nights where no one is ever up to anything good, you might make the bad choice of going out walking. And if you are, you might make the worse choice of approaching the docks, home of ne'er-do-wells and wastrels. And if you have made these bad choices, then you're probably in a state where you'd approach a dark-cloaked individual with a face hidden under a hood.

And then when he takes a draw off his pipe enough that the embers illuminate his face, you'll be disappointed, because instead of being someone sinister, it's just Byerly.

Obviously, whatever he's doing is beyond shady. Yet even so, he greets whoever approaches him with a cheerful wave, and a casual offer of his pipe. Just in case they want a puff. ]

shady af

[sulahnan]

[ So she makes a number of bad decisions. She makes them frequently, moreso lately than in prior months, but what's a girl supposed to do? Not get high and wander around at night?

And she laughs when she sees that this cloaked figure is neither a hallucination nor a ghost, but just Byerly. Returns his offer with her own, though the joint is far less elegant than a pipe of any caliber. ]

What's your poison, Rutyer?

[bouchonne]

[ Ah, what she's offering him smells quite a lot more pungent than what he's smoking. ]

Nothing all that fun. Just common tobacco. What have you there?

[sulahnan]

Elfroot. Way more fun than tobacco.

[ She won't take a puff on the pipe after all, but she'll hold it for him if he partakes of her spliff. ]

[bouchonne]

[ And so he does. A most respectable drag, at that, a puff that he holds and releases without coughing. Clearly he's no stranger to the fun herbs. ]

Ever tried it laced with lyrium?

[sulahnan]

[ A fleeting look of yikes crosses her face. ] Nah. Lyrium seems a bit too... much. For me.

[bouchonne]

Really. Ah, she has weak tastes.

[sulahnan]

She has strong tastes in other areas, so it evens out.

Why are you lurking?

[bouchonne]

[ A last drag, then he returns it to her. ]

Doing business.

[sulahnan]

[ And she gives back his pipe. ]

Ah, it's business lurking?

[bouchonne]

'Tis. Would you like to know the secrets to my success?

[sulahnan]

[ Well of course she wants to know, but ]

They wouldn't be secret anymore if you told me.

[bouchonne]

Why - But you'd keep my secrets, wouldn't you?

[whatthefuckami]

[She's coming back from Kirkwall proper, as it happens--less wandering around the docks for the hell of it, more working her way toward her ship in an unhurried walk. There's a bottle in her grip, but not much of a stumble in her step; Anne Bonny knows how to hold her liquor.

(By the neck of the bottle, naturally.)

The thin orange light of his pipe doesn't reveal anything meaningful to her. Cleanish face, moustache, utterly unrecognizable as a face worth knowing. She in turn is a knife of a silhouette, a thin figure shaded further in the darkness by the hat flopping low on her brow.]

You want something?

[No one stands around docks offering puffs of tobacco for his health.]

[bouchonne]

A fellow makes an offer, and a lady assumes his intentions are selfish. Ah, these times; ah, these customs.

[ He pulls the pipe back in and takes another drag. His long exhale through his nose mingles with the fog and drifts away. ]

Is kindness so unthinkable?

[whatthefuckami]

Don't know. [From a stranger waiting around for Maker-knows-what in the night? Yes.] Price of tobacco might be.

[Might be that things are different in the Marches, but Nascere was never brimming with kindness. And with the grumblings she's heard about sugar since they docked, anyhow, the offer of anything valuable--however mildly--is cause for suspicion.

Not for showing much of it, mind, not beyond a low-voiced observation offered the way someone else might comment on the weather.]

[bouchonne]

'Tis a commodity indeed.

[ He sighs at the pipe mournfully. ]

Life's a lot harder when you have fine tastes, I've found, madame. You find yourself in ever so much trouble.

[whatthefuckami]

[She gives a decidedly unladylike snort at that.]

S'harder if you're down at the docks telling people you're fancy.

[And while the slide of her gaze might not be visible, the way her hat tips likely is. It's a bit pointed, in its way, the up-and-down of you don't look like much, even when there ain't much to see by.]

Ain't likely to find anything fine here. Go home.

[bouchonne]

[ The corners of his eyes crinkle in open amusement at that. ]

What's that - Looking out for me? Seems there's a soft heart buried under that unflattering coat. I think that counts as something fine to be found on the dock, no?

[whatthefuckami]

[hdu insult her coat, byerly, you probably can't even appreciate the fringe in this dark]

[(please trust in the knowledge that she's rolling her eyes)]

Tellin' you to look out for yourself. Somebody ask you to come down here?

[If one of their men's trying to bilk rich idiots out of their coin, she wants to know.]

[bouchonne]

Indeed.

[ He puts his hands into his pockets and replies, guilelessly: ]

A sailor, on one of those recently-arrived ships. What was the name of the ship...The Tiger, maybe? Something like that. He said there was a shipment coming in down here that his captain didn't know about, so he needed me to help redistribute it quickly.

[ So: yes, he knows who you are, Mademoiselle Bonny. ]

[whatthefuckami]

[Hard to say, from this point, if he recognizes her. Fewer people do, outside the Imperium and its holdings--but a new ship in harbor's always something noticeable. And she's something noticeable, too.

She continues on in the same way, like the Lion's someone else's, asking dryly--]

This sailor of yours got a name?

[bouchonne]

[ He touches his chin. ]

I didn't ask.

[whatthefuckami]

Say what the cargo was?

[bouchonne]

Qunari gaatlok.