pictures to the pieces of a stories

Her something was opportunity, followed closely by fun. In the end though, for all the fun Weaver does have in this life, it was about survival. Not just survival, but surviving well. She didn’t just want to eat, but she wanted to feast. She didn’t just want to drink, but she wanted to indulge. She didn’t just want to live, but she wanted to thrive. The Grounds presented opportunity, the sort she had never actually dreamed of. Exactly what she might find here, she didn’t know. What she did know was that she’d have to return to make use of it, that coming to the Hollowed Grounds was not a one time occurance.

She follows, not minding the walk. He is good company and the destination is worth it. Still, she is reminded of her conversation with Sascha and the mention of horses, and she can’t help but think that they would indeed be useful here. Maybe she wouldn’t be sweating bullets by the time she arrived, and she is thankful for her hair that mostly soaks up the sweat. Mostly. The place they enter looks like it was once a house, but the inside is dark and cool (thank the gods), and Weaver rolls up her sleeves to reveal small but well muscled arms. The inside is beautiful, leaps and bounds above the hole-in-the-wall tavern that she frequents in Halo. Her mouth almost drops. Almost.

On the outside she keeps her cool though, making her way to the barstool toward the far end of the bar, sitting a few in from the end itself. There is no special reason except that she sits about here in the tavern back in Halo, and old habits are hard to ignore. Sunjata makes his way to the other side of the bar, a griffin landing on his shoulder with a yip. “Well hello, and who might you be?” she asks the griffin, fully expecting Jata to answer but addressing the companion all the same. It would be rude not to, after all.

He asks what she would like to drink, and Weaver eyes the assortment of bottles behind the bar. There are choices, far more than Halo has ever presented, and so she decides to enjoy them. ”Sipping, I think. I’d like to taste this good booze of yours.” If it was truly good, it wasn’t the type to be drunk in one quick swig. Besides, she is in no rush to leave her current company, or the smell of good food wafting from a kitchen somewhere.

weaver

-- ask no questions, and you'll be told no lies --

Quote by Charles Dickens

SuNJATA

the flood

He keeps his eyes on her as he offers her the first step in, waiting to see what she thinks of it. It’s a dark interior, navy and bronze and a variety of other random bits and pieces put here and there – but somehow they all seem to mesh and meld together, creating a sort of solace against the onslaught of the Longheat sun. He follows her in, stepping to the back of the bar to meet back up with her where she sits as Haai clamors onto his shoulders.

As Weaver asks who the griffin is, Sunjata gives her a slightly brighter smile. “Her name is Haai.” He explains at first, remaining braced against the bar somewhat. “Don’t let her innocent face fool you, she does bite.” He hums with a quiet chuckle – although the only person she’s bitten has been him and usually because he deserves it.

The mention of something to sip has him nodding, pushing off the bar to turn and face the wall of bottles behind him, running a few fingers along the faces of the bottles, trying to pick what might be a good start. There’s mead, there’s wine, there’s also the lighter types of vodka and gin that he’d had made for him, ciders of a sort… So many to choose from. And so after a long moment, he decides to go with two options. One of the wines using berries from the Greatwood, hearty and rich in flavor as well as one of the vodkas. Pouring a glass of the wine and a small shot of the vodka, he slides them over to her and leans against the bar once more, Haai continuing to watch with interest along his tattooed shoulders. “Tell me what you think.” He says with all the cockiness of knowing it’s all definitely better than piss.

rely a bit too heavily on alcohol & irony

BASE INSPIRED BY ODD <3

“A girl right after my own heart,” she says with a grin, though of course Weaver’s face is anything but innocent. It could be, if she wanted it to, but she never really wants it to. Weaver wears her emotions on her sleeve, usually finding that it benefits her not to be a closed book. That said, she is very capable of making her emotions into whatever she thinks will be most useful in the moment, which isn’t exactly the point of wearing them so freely. No one else really needs to know that little detail though. Let them think they know her, that she has no secrets (really, right now, she has few anyway). It probably wasn’t enough to trust her, but it was a start. “You have good taste in companions, clearly,” her voice is just a bit sultry, and it's hard to say whether she's talking about the griffin or herself.

She waits as he runs his fingers over the choices. The sheer number of bottles astounds her. It makes sense, of course, there are simply more plants here to choose from and as such, more choices in beverages. She waits as he selects two, putting them down in front of her. Her hand drifts to the wine first, not something she usually drinks but she is not unfamiliar with it. She swirls it for a moment as it breathes, admiring the rich color before taking a sip and letting it linger on her tongue. “Richer than anything we have in Halo,” she says, giving him an approving nod before shifting to the vodka. This is more up her alley, though she will admit to enjoying the wine. She takes a sip of the vodka and lets out a soft sigh of appreciation. “Decidedly not piss,” which is a high compliment from her. “Do you make it, or purchase, or both?”

She takes another sip of vodka, enjoying a proper drink in a proper bar. It feels like a luxury, truthfully, and she finds herself rather content as she leans forward against the bar. The low-neckline of her top is far more revealing this way, and though Weaver is not overly endowed she is not lacking. “This hardly seems like a place for your other seedy things though,” which of course makes it the perfect cover for such things. Mostly, she just wants to see what he might tell her.

weaver

-- ask no questions, and you'll be told no lies --

Quote by Charles Dickens

SuNJATA

the flood

Sunjata hums a quiet chuckle toward Weaver at the comment, amusement lingering in his face. “I like to think I do.” He teases her gently, a playful, fun jest. But he’s browsing the alcohol now, settling on two for her to try, and when he returns to pour the glasses of them, sliding them to her, he leans briefly against the bar before her with interest in what she thinks. A single nod is given with the mention of it being better than Halo (something he’d find out soon), and then a broad grin given as she confirms that it’s not piss.

“Purchase, mostly. A few skilled mages here can manage it.” The fact one of them went missing does linger in his thoughts briefly, but it doesn’t pass by his face. A mask slid into place as he tilts his head toward her when she leans toward him, clothes more revealing and he smirks to her with amusement. “I tend to prefer to keep it hidden. Can you blame me?” He raises a dark brow to her.

But, well, since she’s asked; he leans forward along the bar, aiming to align his head by her ear, nothing too distracting from what else is going on around them. “How do you feel about causing a bit of drama and having eyes everywhere?” He hums to her, withdrawing, slate eyes scanning her face if she lets him.

rely a bit too heavily on alcohol & irony

BASE INSPIRED BY ODD <3

“Now that sounds like a useful magic,” she says, wiggling her fingers slightly as if she could go and create booze. She absolutely cannot, of course, or she wouldn’t be drinking piss in a tiny little tavern in Halo. Hell, she probably wouldn’t be drinking there in general if given the option, but there were not a lot of great options in Halo in general. He smirks at her attempt for information, and she only smiles back. “You would be bad at seedy things if you didn’t keep them hidden.” she replies with a quirk of her head.

There is something flirtatious in her behavior, not quite the same as the easy and casual flirting that has passed between them already, though it is subtle. It is the sort of flirtation that is used for a purpose, and though she suspects he’s smart enough to know this, it doesn’t necessarily make it less effective. Not if he’s looking for a reason to trust her, to be able to tell her. He leans in, his breath warm against her ear as he speaks. As he leans back, he’ll see a wicked, mischievous smile on her face and a gleam in her eyes. It is still very much her smile, but there’s something darker and intrigued behind it now. They are still very much her eyes, but there’s something on fire in them now.

“Darling, I am the drama,” she says, as if causing a bit of chaos is second nature to her (and perhaps in some ways it is, though never before on a large scale). “And why do you think I like bars so much? I mean, the booze is good…” The words she does not speak are obvious enough. You go to bars to hear, to see, to learn. You go to bars because, when you are by yourself, it is the quickest and easiest way to gather information. She picks up her vodka and takes another sip.

weaver

-- ask no questions, and you'll be told no lies --

Quote by Charles Dickens

SuNJATA

the flood

“Doesn’t it?” He hums thoughtfully, almost wishing he’d had the ability to create booze at random. Almost. But he focuses on her when she speaks, a snort leaving his nose in response. The exact reason it’s hidden – to continue to hide and squirrel yourself away, able to deny and pretend, only to gather and work together behind the scenes. But that’s neither here nor there as he leans toward her, whispering easily against her ear.

And when he pulls back, there’s a beautifully wicked smile on her face, a shine to her eyes that he knows all too well. “Booze is good, but the secrets are better.” He winks to her, voice low to keep it hidden as he watches her take a sip of the vodka, before he pours more in. “Well, it sounds like you’re pretty interested. So I have one more place to show you. Don’t worry, it’s close.” He hums playfully, a glimmer of something secretive within his steel gaze. “Bring your drink if you like.” He adds, moving to step around the side of the bar toward her and offer his arm to lead her out, should she wish to see for herself.

rely a bit too heavily on alcohol & irony

BASE INSPIRED BY ODD <3

She definitely wishes she had the power to create booze. Truthfully she really just wishes she knew how to use her magic, how to unlock more powers, how to become something formidable. Not that she couldn’t hold her own, but imagine what she could do with magic at her fingertips and not just the ability to light a candle. It is much of what drives her to act now, to explore the world, to figure out what she never had time to learn before. Opportunity is wide before her with the portals open, and she would be a fool not to take it.

He understands her meaning well enough, finishing the thought she left hanging between them. He keeps his voice low, and it is filled with opportunity. She can taste it in the drink before her, can see it in the wink of his eye, can hear it in his hushed tones. The best opportunities were not the ones you shouted too loudly. He steps out from around the bar, and she slips off the stool easily, grabbing her vodka with one hand and taking his arm with the other. “Shall we?” she says, because so far, he has not shown her anything she disliked.

weaver

-- ask no questions, and you'll be told no lies --

Quote by Charles Dickens

SuNJATA

the flood

She takes his arm, and he offers her a bright smirk – a hint of a devilish grin threatening to appear – but he refrains as he begins to guide her through the crowd and to the back side of the door to the bar. An unassuming appearance for most, the door to drop off trash and things of that nature, nothing to it other than a backyard of sorts. But they’re outside now, and he guides her through the specific pathing toward the Guild, before a set of stairs appears before them.

This is when he lets go of her arm, but takes her hand instead. He guides her down the specific steps to take to prevent the traps from attacking them, and only when they’re at the bottom of the stairwell does he flash her a true devilish grin, opening the door to allow her in. She’ll find the interior dark, quite like a Thieves Guild, with trinkets and the hint of smoke drifting about the inside, books and papers scattered among the desk at the center. “Welcome to the Devil’s Advocates, Weaver.” He hums to her, gesturing to let her in.

rely a bit too heavily on alcohol & irony

BASE INSPIRED BY ODD <3

They walk in silence, through the back door of the bar into some sort of backyard. It is unassuming, as she would expect if she is being led to the underworld of the Hollowed Grounds. Halo didn’t have much of an underworld, at least not that she’d ever been able to find. A bit of a black market, if you knew where to look, but that’s all she could ever find. So either she was a terrible looker or it wasn’t there. There’d been so few of them for so long, and no hope of the world growing larger, that it is possible there’d simply never been a need. What plotting did they need to do when the goal was simply to survive, to live, to feed themselves and stay warm.

Now though, she wonders what is brewing in Halo that she isn’t aware of. What might occur with the world opening up to them?

He takes her hand, leading her down a set of stairs and she wonders what he’s leading her around. His movements are careful, and she suspects without him teaching her the details she’d never get back down here in one piece. Make a mental note of that one, Weaver. Dying is overrated (she knows). They reach the bottom of the stairwell and his grin is devilish now, something so very fitting on his face. She simply looks expectant, waiting to be impressed. The door opens, and she moves inside at his gesture, looking around at the dark interior of the room, various odds and ends around the room, a desk in the middle. It is not much to look at, but it is exactly what she might expect of a secret meeting room.

A hint of smoke lingers in the air, and there’s something pleasant to the leftover smell. She has always preferred drinking to smoking, but she did enjoy an occasional smoke as well, whatever the breed. “And what is it these devils advocate for?” she asks, her own grin devilish as well.

weaver

-- ask no questions, and you'll be told no lies --

Quote by Charles Dickens

SuNJATA

the flood

She slips within the doors to the Devil’s Advocates, and Sunjata follows behind – closing the door to keep the draft out, before letting her glance around and look as he leans against one of the bookshelves. The look she gives him when she does keeps his own devilish smile along his face. What is it for? Good question. “Started out as a Thieves Guild.” He says, pushing off from the wood he leans against to approach the couch in the center, adorned with fancy blankets and furs Ezra and Adam had snatched when they’d created it.

He lifts one of the furs briefly, before letting it fall back against the couch and look around the space again. “Now I’ve sort of got it as a spies guild. Trying to get information for more portals or ways to open up Caido again.” His gaze flits back to Weaver with a glimmer of pride and amusement slipping beneath the storm to his gaze. “What do you think?” He asks, wondering if it’s something that she’d be interested in.

rely a bit too heavily on alcohol & irony

BASE INSPIRED BY ODD <3

She runs her fingers along the spines of some of the books, reading their titles as she goes, curious what kind of books a thieves guild would be interested in. All of them, probably, having just snatched whatever they could find. But maybe there is a method to the choices, a reason behind what’s here, though whether or not the titles alone with give her such an answer she is not sure about. Mostly though she listens to Sunjata, attention on the details he gives her.

He moves to pick up a fur and then let it settle again on a couch, her amber eyes watching the movement for a moment before she keeps moving. Her fingers tend to fiddle with things, always careful and delicate, but always moving as if she could learn more by touch. It is a power she images would be vastly useful, though not one she has. She picks up a trinket, flipping it over in her hands momentarily before looking back up at him. “I think information is a useful currency to trade. I have two rules and one question. Rules first,” she says, putting down the trinket and walking closer to him.

She runs her hand over the fur he’d just dropped, though doesn’t pick it up. “I won’t betray Halo and I won’t do anything to hurt my family.” she says, giving him a level look, waiting to see if he’d accept those conditions. They were not unreasonable, she didn’t think, but she wanted to make that clear from the beginning. She was not agreeing to pass on information that might hurt either of those things, for she was loyal to her family and Halo first. “The question. What’s in it for me?”

weaver

-- ask no questions, and you'll be told no lies --

Quote by Charles Dickens

SuNJATA

the flood

His steel gaze flits over her briefly as she picks up a trinket, before her eyes meet his. She tells him of her rules and a question, and Sunjata perks a bit at this – a negotiation, something he’s become well versed in. And he straightens up a small amount as she approaches, having already disregarded the trinket she’d been idly messing with. He watches as she runs her hands over the fur that he’d placed, listening intently to the rules she gives.

And it’s fair enough, he hadn’t planned on it harming anyone anyway. Not unless it was dire. A smirk crosses his face at her terms, and he leans back somewhat against the back of the couch as he regards her. “It wasn’t my intention to harm Halo or anyone within it. Just to get information.” He offers, in case it alleviates her worries. He doesn’t plan on attacking Halo or anything of the sort. Her home and her family are safe. “In terms of what’s in it for you? Well, what if we made a version of the upstairs fit for Halo?” An avian tilt of his head is given her way, smirk widening to the smile along his face. “And since you’re so familiar with them, perhaps you could run that branch? And don’t worry, it won’t serve piss.”

rely a bit too heavily on alcohol & irony

BASE INSPIRED BY ODD <3

”Intentions are all well and good, but actions and intentions don’t always end up the same. As long as it’s clear I will choose Halo first…” she says, because she’s not agreeing to join the sort of group that would kill her for treason if there are simply certain things she is unwilling to do from the get go. Okay, that might be a little dramatic, but you get the idea. In the end though his goals may or may not be what she thinks is best for Halo, and she will choose that first.

Not that she’s close to Neron or any of his council, so it’s not like she was worried about playing a double agent here. She wouldn’t, anyway; unwilling to betray their trust if she gained it, unless they didn’t deserve her loyalty. She was still vaguely undecided on all of them, but they hadn’t done anything particularly terrible yet so she wasn’t against them. Mostly she was just wondering how long it would take all the Outlanders to freeze to death.

He gives his offer next and she stops fidgeting, looking at him seriously (a thing she rarely does). The smile that crosses her face is real, pleased, and not full of its usual mischief. ”I really was planning to play hardball, but I don’t think it’s worth it. Yes.” Because what he was offering wasn’t just a bar, it was a livelihood that didn’t involve her and Korbin constantly scraping and hunting and piecing together a pittance. ”Though I’m thinking something a little more sultry,”, she says, her grin back to normal, playful and teasing and full of mischief. ”Red and black, maybe.”

weaver

-- ask no questions, and you'll be told no lies --

Quote by Charles Dickens

SuNJATA

the flood

“It is clear.” He assures her with a surprisingly honest smile. To be honest, the man cares little for Halo all things considered. And with it, he focuses on the rest of the world, what else is out there. Halo is the last place on his mind and perhaps it makes her a better representative for it when it comes down to it.

So he focuses on her with his thoughts spilling out, of a bar like this one but different, her own to manage and handle all in exchange for the information that thrives within. Her answering smile is all he needs before he grants a nod to her. “Then it will be, in exchange for the information within.” He offers her with a crooked smirk.

The comment of more sultry does have his head tilting a small amount, gaze flickering briefly over her tattoo. “To keep it the same theme in a sense… What do you think of the name Kraai?” The way it falls from his tongue is easy, well practiced. “VlamVloed means Fire and Flood in my language. Kraai is raven.” A considering look given to her, to see what she thinks of it. An expanse, yet her own.

rely a bit too heavily on alcohol & irony

BASE INSPIRED BY ODD <3