Making a face, I try to remember what they taught me in school. When was the last time Apopo exploded? Eventually I have to give up trying for specifics and just shrug.[say] “At least before my grandmother’s time.”[/say] And clearly we ain’t worried about it exploding again any time soon.
The tiny woman reveals that she normally carries a scythe and it feels like my brows rise on their own. Eyeing her up a little more closely, I can indeed see the muscles in her arms, but can barely picture her carrying something like the wicked, curved blade. Combine that with her dark look and… yeah. It’s hot. I smile.[say] “That’s the best thing I’ve heard all day.”[/say] A hot Halovian with a scythe. Huh. Maybe the portals are good for something after all.
[say] “Unfortunately, it’s the only good thing he ever did,”[/say] I reply dryly, no trace of bitterness left, just the realities of life.[say] “Best bar in Torchline, but don’t tell any other bartender that.”[/say] Throwing Weaver a wink, I look to the beach beyond the Hanged Man’s ceiling – out to the ocean and what lies beyond.[say] “So are you here for adventure or adventure?”[/say]
I hope she knows the difference between the two.
Raza’s brows raise at the mention of the scythe, and suddenly Weaver is a little sad she didn’t bring it with her today. Usually it was strapped to her back, blade sweeping above her head like some strange, dark halo. Occasionally though it was left behind, usually when Weaver was trying to be polite in new, supposedly polite company. Not that anywhere in Caido really counted as polite company, but you know what she means.
Weaver chuckles, her smile pleased and amused. [say]”I’ll bring it next time,”[/say] she says. It was far more impressive than the array of knives on her waist, which she removed only to sleep or in very rare and special occasions. It’s a shame Raza hadn’t said “a hot Halovian with a scythe” aloud, because that would have been the best thing Weaver’s heard all day. Or maybe just ever.
It seems Raza’s relationship with her father was less than stellar. The appropriate response would be to say “sorry”, but Weaver doesn’t think Raza needs her empty sorry’s. Instead she just nods slightly, her grin sly. [say]”I mean, I have no comparison admittedly, but I can see how it would be the best.”[/say] Cool breeze, great bartender, some sweet but delish mamjuana.
The next question has Weaver’s grin spreading just slightly, something knowing in it, something mischievous and alive. [say]”Adventure, of course.”[/say] Because she absolutely knows the difference.
A scythe would have indeed drawn eyes - not all of them good. Weaver probably made the better choice by leaving it at home for her first visit. There’ll surely be plenty of time for it later.
[say] “Cool. I’d like to see it.”[/say] I’m all about the small, hideable weapons, but there’s a little thrill that goes through me at the idea of seeing her - or anyone - work with a blade like that. I’m not a warrior. Not a soldier. I know how to defend myself and when to run, and that’s about it. But I do know how to appreciate someone with those kind of skills… and then make them my friend.
I take a sip of the mamajuana and roll it through my mouth, savoring the sweetness for now. Too often salt coats my lip, invades my food and rubs my skin. Sweetness is a welcome change. And I’m happy to not have to blow off a ‘sorry.’ The past is the past, I don’t dwell on it. I suppose empathy is appreciated, but at this point it’s like talking about the weather. No emotional connection whatsoever.
Giving Weaver a bit of what I think is a sultry grin, I nod slowly.[say] “Okay. And how do you feel about the law?”[/say] There are good adventurers and ‘bad’ adventurers… and unfortunately, I can’t invite someone along just because she probably looks good in leather and swings a scythe. We have to be on the same side from the get-go.
Weaver is a fan of weapons in all their forms. There were some she could not use, some she used better than others, though she was reasonably well versed in the most common of weapons. Knives and swords particularly, though she now preferred her scythe to the sword. She did love her knives though, hidden all over person as they were. The ones on her waist were the most obvious, but there’s usually one in her boot, sometimes tucked elsewhere depending if the situtation seemed to warrant it. Bows were not her suit, though she could technically use one. Stranger weapons were always interesting to her though, something to learn, a challenge to tackle. Everything was a weapon if you knew how to use it, after all.
Weaver chuckles slightly at the next question, taking a sip of her drink in a show of casual carelessness. [say]”The law is nothing more than a set of rules, really. And rules are designed to be broken, are they not?”[/say] She shrugs slightly. After all, she’s the sort of the girl who has a Warden that she’ll only listen to if she happens to agree with his laws, so it’s not like she’s really concerned about what someone else tells her to do. [say]”Besides, does it really matter so long as you don’t get caught?”[/say]
Satisfied with the answer, I just grin slyly into my glass, nodding in agreement.[say] “No, no it doesn’t.”[/say] Though no one had told me to recruit any of the newcomers, I know a good addition when I see one. So many are reckless, eager to prove their masculinity by diving into dodgy situations and being stupid. I prefer a smarter kind of rule-breaker. Appropriately dismissive of the law, keen enough to know when to lay low and when to blaze ahead. Weaver might be that.
I can’t tell quite yet. Will have to see her in action.
I lean my elbows casually on the bar, in pretense of stretching my back - which does get sore from standing all day, but I also don't want any passerby to be able to overhear. Let them think I'm... flirting (and who's to say I'm not?)[say] “So what’s the best way to get ahold of you?”[/say]
Weaver’s answer seems to satisfy. Though no more information is given currently, she is not disappointed. Things like this don’t work so quickly, but it’s clear Raza knows something of the underground that fills the rumors of Torchline. It is all Weaver can do right now to simply plant some seeds and then let them grow. She doesn’t worry that her actions might not match her words, because Weaver knows in the end that she is exactly the sort that can be trusted with the seedy and nefarious things.
Raza leans forward, stretching her back, but also close enough to speak quietly. Weaver knows this sort of tactic well, one she uses regularly. A casual touch perhaps, a forward lean, lips against ears. Such moves have many uses, and sometimes she even means them. [say]”Any message to Halo will find me.”[/say] Small towns make it easy to contact people, but Raza would have to be clever and careful with the wording. Weaver keeps her voice quiet, leaning forward just slightly, both hands cupped around her drink. [say]”Though I will be opening a bar soon, the Kraai, so that will be the best place to reach me once it’s complete.”[/say] Let’s ignore the wonky timeline here.
Realistically, I don’t intend to leave Torchline anytime soon, especially with the better part of Longheat behind us - heading up to Halo during Leafchange or Deepfrost? Hell fucking no.
As Weaver leans forward slightly and lowers her voice, I smiles inwardly. Planting my own seeds is going well enough, though I know I’ll need a lot more information before I can begin to actually trust her.[say] “Good to know,”[/say] I say with a nod. Bases are important. Pulling back, another person comes in and sits a couple seats away from the girl, more or less ending our gentle probings of each other’s secret world.[say] “Hope to see you again, Weaver.”[/say]
Preferably with her scythe, but hey, I’ll take her any way she pleases.
I straighten and turn to the new customer. Time to work.
[Fin]
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