tit for tat

WESSEX out of the night that covers me Red lichen collected, she pushes the events (be they good or bad) at Crimson Cataract from her mind and thinks only to the future. It’s a decent ways from the Greatwood to the glass smithy, taking the better part of the early and late evening. Arriving at the compound again, as the sky turns a brilliant royal purple, Wessex waits at the gate as the dogs announce her presence. She holds a little leather drawstring bag in her hand, full of the novelty plant Lanoch requested. Time to trade. black as the pit from pole to pole i thank whatever gods may be for my unconquerable soul

The dogs, as always, heralded Lanoch's approach, his own little entourage, as if he were someone who mattered in this world. Well, at least he mattered to them, and that was pretty good, right? Wessex was lucky the glassblower had to get up early to tend to them, or he might have been pissed. As it was the lad was mildly irked, his arms crossed tight against his chest as he walked up to the woman. "Oi, Blue, heel. She won't bite ya."

It was clear from his expression that he did not entirely believe this to be true.

"You got it, then?"

No pleasantries. It was too damn early for that, and besides, they weren't really on small talk terms. More like give-me-my-shit-and-get-off-my-lawn terms.

WESSEX out of the night that covers me “Yep,” she replies, holding the bag up and giving it a little shake. The leather is damp, stained, and quite round, evidence enough that she’d done what he’d requested. “You?” she asks in quiet response, knowing that the pieces are small enough that they could have been hidden anywhere on him. However. She is a cautious woman. And while she doesn’t think Lanoch would cheat her, she needs to know he has the goods before she hands the plants over. Not that he couldn’t go to the Cataract and get some lichen himself… but she’d never know the two men to be terribly adventurous. The thought of leaving the Hollowed Grounds might have them quaking in their boots for all she knows. black as the pit from pole to pole i thank whatever gods may be for my unconquerable soul

His eyes followed the bag, the contents shaken, not stirred. “Yup,” he answered, arms still folded, crossed over his chest, warding off a variety of irritations, but doing a piss-poor job of hiding it. “Come in.” It wasn’t a welcoming glance or herald, but they’d never been on those sorts of terms. Business transactions. Trades. Bartering. Nothing else.

He turned, heading back towards his shop (the dog followed, with a sullen look at the Ascended), where the items and artifacts laid in wait, completed the evening before, no less imperfect, incapable of shunting or making defective work – even if a certain pettiness threatened to claim him. The lad grabbed hold on and held them in one hand, the other extended, waiting for the finality of the deal.

WESSEX out of the night that covers me Wessex nods at the invite, waiting for Lanoch and the dog to clear the gate before she opens it and follows the young man into the compound. Back to the shop, a place familiar once upon a time, but no longer is. She looks around and can see nothing of the man’s father in it. Hm. If he did die, she isn’t about to ask. They aren’t even on small talk terms. When he reveals the pieces in his hand, she gladly hands over the damp bag, a tight-lipped smile appearing in thanks for his work. She takes them with a simple “Thank you,” and a nod and then turns on her heels and leaves him to do whatever he wants with his part of the trade. Her mind is already on the future, and the hope that Lucas has come through with his part of the deal. black as the pit from pole to pole i thank whatever gods may be for my unconquerable soul