WHO: John Silver, Derrica, Ellis WHAT: Ye Olde Catch-All WHEN: Guardian WHERE: Gallows and Beyond. NOTES: Open starter for each character, wildcards welcome.
There are a number of taverns dotting the harbor, near enough to the dock to court any and all disembarking from their journey. Sailors and Riftwatchers alike are welcomed in; drink specials are broadly marketed, and gold is gold, after all.
Anyone who disembarks midday, tempted by the thought of a cheap meal, might be drawn into the Bow and Bone. It's clientele skews sailor (or pirate, but who can say for certain which is which?) but a number of Kirkwall's artisans and traders are circulating in and out. A guild meeting has taken up a number of seats in the balcony, and the echo of overlapping conversation carries down to reach those crammed into the tables below.
At one of those tables is John Silver, and a rolled scroll of parchment, pinned down by a little jar of uncorked ink. Seeking a seat in this busy space? Look no further. John sweeps a hand towards the unoccupied seats around him, easy invitation for a familiar face hoping to set themselves down.
The Bow and Bone is many things. What it is not, generally, is host to pin neat young ladies in their walking skirts and buff field boots, their red caplets with bright embroidering. And yet here Wysteria de Foncé is, come down either from the heights of the Research workrooms or from her own studies in Hightown proper. A number of heads turn. Various pickpockets salivate.
She cuts a bee line in John Silver's direction—a somewhat miraculous achievement given the crowded quality of the public room's ground floor.
"Captain!" she declares when near enijfb to do so. Various pickpockets wilt in disappointment; best not to mess with lightening the purse of one of John Silver's associates. "I had heard I might find you in this place."
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JOHN SILVER.
ota.
Anyone who disembarks midday, tempted by the thought of a cheap meal, might be drawn into the Bow and Bone. It's clientele skews sailor (or pirate, but who can say for certain which is which?) but a number of Kirkwall's artisans and traders are circulating in and out. A guild meeting has taken up a number of seats in the balcony, and the echo of overlapping conversation carries down to reach those crammed into the tables below.
At one of those tables is John Silver, and a rolled scroll of parchment, pinned down by a little jar of uncorked ink. Seeking a seat in this busy space? Look no further. John sweeps a hand towards the unoccupied seats around him, easy invitation for a familiar face hoping to set themselves down.
no subject
She cuts a bee line in John Silver's direction—a somewhat miraculous achievement given the crowded quality of the public room's ground floor.
"Captain!" she declares when near enijfb to do so. Various pickpockets wilt in disappointment; best not to mess with lightening the purse of one of John Silver's associates. "I had heard I might find you in this place."