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The gloom of the interior of the ship was only broken by intermediate shafts of thin, weak sunlight, creeping through cracks in the boards of the above deck and the two flickering candles that sat on either corner Bianor’s table. The old man sat a little bent in the straight back, uncomfortable wooden chair, his hound dog eyes red rimmed and narrowed. Lukos stood beside and just a little behind him, watching Bianor’s gnarled fingers counting out both coin and jewel from a small chest that Lukos had brought out of hiding.
The old man’s skinny, withered arms were stretched possessively across a vellum ledger book that held columns and numbers, ticks and checks, and a dizzying array of information that would have taken someone quite a long time to navigate. This was how the old scribe had always arranged things; partially because it was how he’d learned, and partially because it confused the casual onlooker. Because the captain could not read anything at just a glance, Bianor didn’t feel quite as exposed to leave the book open in Lukos’s presence. Though why he should have felt exposed at all was odd, since everything in the columns belonged to Lukos.
It showed the level of trust that Lukos had for the old man; Bianor had complete control over the gold and the finances in general, both for Lukos and for the other members of the crew. Perhaps he could have been shuffling more gold than strictly necessary into his own coin purse but he didn’t for two reasons. The first was that he had no real expenses. He lived on this ship, ate what was supplied to him, and had no family and so no reason to leave. The accumulation of wealth really was just a habit at this point, rather than a want. The second reason was that if Lukos ever found out, the kind of death and torture that would be directed the old man’s way was unimaginable and, therefore, not worth it.
“There,” Bianor finished counting out what Lukos had asked for and produced a bright blue purse made of dyed leather and pulled together with vivid yellow strings. “This should impress the Baron enough to part with those horses of his.”
“Do you ride, you old bag?” Lukos asked amiably as he tied the purse to his belt and folded his arms across his chest.
“Not since you were born,” Bianor snapped, finally standing. His old bones creaked and groaned, reminding Lukos of what walking in the forest and hearing snapping twigs sounded like. He wrinkled his nose a little and stepped back, letting Bianor move around him and lead the way towards the stairs. The pace was agonizingly slow, since the old man shuffled, rather than walked. Under normal circumstances, Lukos would have just nudged Bianor to the side and walked out first. Today, however, he needed the old man for the horse transaction and he wanted Bianor to be in a good mood, rather than a foul one. It was easier to deal with him.
By the time Bianor had crossed the whole of the ship’s interior and was at the foot of the stairs, though, Lukos’s patience was thin. “The horses will have grown old and died by the time we get there if you don’t pick up your feet, you wrinkled old goat.” It amused him to think up insulting nicknames for Bianor as the scribe took one step at a time, pausing needlessly long on each one before progressing upwards. Bianor, for his turn, was not mobilized in the least by this abuse and took his sweet, sweet time. It pleased the old man to have Lukose chomping at the bit by the time they were finally up the stairs, across the deck, down the gangway, and finally onto the docks.
The problem here was that they were surrounded by crowds of people. This did not help Bianor’s speed or Lukos’s tolerance of the scribe’s purposeful slowness. Thankfully for the pair of them, people did seem to recognize that the day was hot and that an elder like Bianor should not have to dodge them. Instead, they parted for him and for the captain as they made their way down the docks and into Vasiliadon itself.
The sun beat down and despite Bianor’s personal hatred of his captain, he eventually had to reach for the younger man’s arm, silently asking for assistance in walking. Without looking down, Lukos allowed Bianor’s thin hands to grasp his forearm as they walked toward the market. At least now Bianor was allowing them to walk at a healthier clip. Lukos navigated the two of them through the streets, his dark eyes casting this way and that for potential obstacles that might trip or slow up his scribe. To anyone looking, they seemed like father and son, Lukos being helpful by offering both his assistance and carrying the vellum book under his other arm.
At last they made it to market and met with the baron there. The negotiation about the horses was a heated one and ultimately Bianor made the mistake of stating that the horses would be sold in Athenia. This, the baron would not hear of. The horses were supposed to stay in Taengea. They were bred specifically for beauty and the trait was meant to be a boon to the aesthetic of Taengea, not Athenia. Lukos grit his teeth and was mentally strangling Bianor as the baron walked away. He’d never wanted to be rid of money so much as he did in that moment. For the price he’d have paid for those horses here, he could have made twice what they were worth in Athenia.
“Good riddance,” Bianor huffed and sat down on the rim of a fountain in the public square. Lukos glared at him.
“I’m going to suffocate you while you sleep,” he seethed.
Bianor was unruffled by this hollow threat. The captain had threatened to kill him for years and rarely acted on the impulse. “Let me see that purse,” he said, motioning to the vivid blue bag that Lukos had been re-tying to his belt. “I want to see if I put the correct ruby in there. I meant to put a smaller one but I didn’t have the scales.” At Lukos’s black stare, he added a little defensively, “It’s hard to see down in the hold! I’m not as young as I used to be!”
“I think it’s time to replace you,” Lukos snapped as he handed over the bag and dropped down next to Bianor. He’d moved on from the bitter disappointment of the horses though. It would have been a nightmare to ship them for weeks across the ocean. He scanned the market, attempting to find something comparable and sellable for the amount of money they’d brought with them. Twice he locked eyes with another man who seemed to be eyeing the coin purse but he wasn’t overly worried about being stolen from. Vasiiliadon was a famously safe city, thanks to the Order that patrolled its streets.
Bianor sifted through the pouch, heedless of being watched and laid out little jewels between him and Lukos. The jewels glinted wondrously in the sunlight, gorgeous and just begging to be owned. Lukos didn’t want to buy specialty slaves but he wasn’t seeing many other options. People were fairly easy to transport and slaves that were bought and resold were definitely moveable...but would they strike the right price...that was the gamble. If he broke even, that would defeat the whole purpose….
Lost in thought, Lukos leaned back on his hands, with his legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles; the picture of at ease in his surroundings, with Bianor steadily counting out loud, quietly beside him.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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The gloom of the interior of the ship was only broken by intermediate shafts of thin, weak sunlight, creeping through cracks in the boards of the above deck and the two flickering candles that sat on either corner Bianor’s table. The old man sat a little bent in the straight back, uncomfortable wooden chair, his hound dog eyes red rimmed and narrowed. Lukos stood beside and just a little behind him, watching Bianor’s gnarled fingers counting out both coin and jewel from a small chest that Lukos had brought out of hiding.
The old man’s skinny, withered arms were stretched possessively across a vellum ledger book that held columns and numbers, ticks and checks, and a dizzying array of information that would have taken someone quite a long time to navigate. This was how the old scribe had always arranged things; partially because it was how he’d learned, and partially because it confused the casual onlooker. Because the captain could not read anything at just a glance, Bianor didn’t feel quite as exposed to leave the book open in Lukos’s presence. Though why he should have felt exposed at all was odd, since everything in the columns belonged to Lukos.
It showed the level of trust that Lukos had for the old man; Bianor had complete control over the gold and the finances in general, both for Lukos and for the other members of the crew. Perhaps he could have been shuffling more gold than strictly necessary into his own coin purse but he didn’t for two reasons. The first was that he had no real expenses. He lived on this ship, ate what was supplied to him, and had no family and so no reason to leave. The accumulation of wealth really was just a habit at this point, rather than a want. The second reason was that if Lukos ever found out, the kind of death and torture that would be directed the old man’s way was unimaginable and, therefore, not worth it.
“There,” Bianor finished counting out what Lukos had asked for and produced a bright blue purse made of dyed leather and pulled together with vivid yellow strings. “This should impress the Baron enough to part with those horses of his.”
“Do you ride, you old bag?” Lukos asked amiably as he tied the purse to his belt and folded his arms across his chest.
“Not since you were born,” Bianor snapped, finally standing. His old bones creaked and groaned, reminding Lukos of what walking in the forest and hearing snapping twigs sounded like. He wrinkled his nose a little and stepped back, letting Bianor move around him and lead the way towards the stairs. The pace was agonizingly slow, since the old man shuffled, rather than walked. Under normal circumstances, Lukos would have just nudged Bianor to the side and walked out first. Today, however, he needed the old man for the horse transaction and he wanted Bianor to be in a good mood, rather than a foul one. It was easier to deal with him.
By the time Bianor had crossed the whole of the ship’s interior and was at the foot of the stairs, though, Lukos’s patience was thin. “The horses will have grown old and died by the time we get there if you don’t pick up your feet, you wrinkled old goat.” It amused him to think up insulting nicknames for Bianor as the scribe took one step at a time, pausing needlessly long on each one before progressing upwards. Bianor, for his turn, was not mobilized in the least by this abuse and took his sweet, sweet time. It pleased the old man to have Lukose chomping at the bit by the time they were finally up the stairs, across the deck, down the gangway, and finally onto the docks.
The problem here was that they were surrounded by crowds of people. This did not help Bianor’s speed or Lukos’s tolerance of the scribe’s purposeful slowness. Thankfully for the pair of them, people did seem to recognize that the day was hot and that an elder like Bianor should not have to dodge them. Instead, they parted for him and for the captain as they made their way down the docks and into Vasiliadon itself.
The sun beat down and despite Bianor’s personal hatred of his captain, he eventually had to reach for the younger man’s arm, silently asking for assistance in walking. Without looking down, Lukos allowed Bianor’s thin hands to grasp his forearm as they walked toward the market. At least now Bianor was allowing them to walk at a healthier clip. Lukos navigated the two of them through the streets, his dark eyes casting this way and that for potential obstacles that might trip or slow up his scribe. To anyone looking, they seemed like father and son, Lukos being helpful by offering both his assistance and carrying the vellum book under his other arm.
At last they made it to market and met with the baron there. The negotiation about the horses was a heated one and ultimately Bianor made the mistake of stating that the horses would be sold in Athenia. This, the baron would not hear of. The horses were supposed to stay in Taengea. They were bred specifically for beauty and the trait was meant to be a boon to the aesthetic of Taengea, not Athenia. Lukos grit his teeth and was mentally strangling Bianor as the baron walked away. He’d never wanted to be rid of money so much as he did in that moment. For the price he’d have paid for those horses here, he could have made twice what they were worth in Athenia.
“Good riddance,” Bianor huffed and sat down on the rim of a fountain in the public square. Lukos glared at him.
“I’m going to suffocate you while you sleep,” he seethed.
Bianor was unruffled by this hollow threat. The captain had threatened to kill him for years and rarely acted on the impulse. “Let me see that purse,” he said, motioning to the vivid blue bag that Lukos had been re-tying to his belt. “I want to see if I put the correct ruby in there. I meant to put a smaller one but I didn’t have the scales.” At Lukos’s black stare, he added a little defensively, “It’s hard to see down in the hold! I’m not as young as I used to be!”
“I think it’s time to replace you,” Lukos snapped as he handed over the bag and dropped down next to Bianor. He’d moved on from the bitter disappointment of the horses though. It would have been a nightmare to ship them for weeks across the ocean. He scanned the market, attempting to find something comparable and sellable for the amount of money they’d brought with them. Twice he locked eyes with another man who seemed to be eyeing the coin purse but he wasn’t overly worried about being stolen from. Vasiiliadon was a famously safe city, thanks to the Order that patrolled its streets.
Bianor sifted through the pouch, heedless of being watched and laid out little jewels between him and Lukos. The jewels glinted wondrously in the sunlight, gorgeous and just begging to be owned. Lukos didn’t want to buy specialty slaves but he wasn’t seeing many other options. People were fairly easy to transport and slaves that were bought and resold were definitely moveable...but would they strike the right price...that was the gamble. If he broke even, that would defeat the whole purpose….
Lost in thought, Lukos leaned back on his hands, with his legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles; the picture of at ease in his surroundings, with Bianor steadily counting out loud, quietly beside him.
The gloom of the interior of the ship was only broken by intermediate shafts of thin, weak sunlight, creeping through cracks in the boards of the above deck and the two flickering candles that sat on either corner Bianor’s table. The old man sat a little bent in the straight back, uncomfortable wooden chair, his hound dog eyes red rimmed and narrowed. Lukos stood beside and just a little behind him, watching Bianor’s gnarled fingers counting out both coin and jewel from a small chest that Lukos had brought out of hiding.
The old man’s skinny, withered arms were stretched possessively across a vellum ledger book that held columns and numbers, ticks and checks, and a dizzying array of information that would have taken someone quite a long time to navigate. This was how the old scribe had always arranged things; partially because it was how he’d learned, and partially because it confused the casual onlooker. Because the captain could not read anything at just a glance, Bianor didn’t feel quite as exposed to leave the book open in Lukos’s presence. Though why he should have felt exposed at all was odd, since everything in the columns belonged to Lukos.
It showed the level of trust that Lukos had for the old man; Bianor had complete control over the gold and the finances in general, both for Lukos and for the other members of the crew. Perhaps he could have been shuffling more gold than strictly necessary into his own coin purse but he didn’t for two reasons. The first was that he had no real expenses. He lived on this ship, ate what was supplied to him, and had no family and so no reason to leave. The accumulation of wealth really was just a habit at this point, rather than a want. The second reason was that if Lukos ever found out, the kind of death and torture that would be directed the old man’s way was unimaginable and, therefore, not worth it.
“There,” Bianor finished counting out what Lukos had asked for and produced a bright blue purse made of dyed leather and pulled together with vivid yellow strings. “This should impress the Baron enough to part with those horses of his.”
“Do you ride, you old bag?” Lukos asked amiably as he tied the purse to his belt and folded his arms across his chest.
“Not since you were born,” Bianor snapped, finally standing. His old bones creaked and groaned, reminding Lukos of what walking in the forest and hearing snapping twigs sounded like. He wrinkled his nose a little and stepped back, letting Bianor move around him and lead the way towards the stairs. The pace was agonizingly slow, since the old man shuffled, rather than walked. Under normal circumstances, Lukos would have just nudged Bianor to the side and walked out first. Today, however, he needed the old man for the horse transaction and he wanted Bianor to be in a good mood, rather than a foul one. It was easier to deal with him.
By the time Bianor had crossed the whole of the ship’s interior and was at the foot of the stairs, though, Lukos’s patience was thin. “The horses will have grown old and died by the time we get there if you don’t pick up your feet, you wrinkled old goat.” It amused him to think up insulting nicknames for Bianor as the scribe took one step at a time, pausing needlessly long on each one before progressing upwards. Bianor, for his turn, was not mobilized in the least by this abuse and took his sweet, sweet time. It pleased the old man to have Lukose chomping at the bit by the time they were finally up the stairs, across the deck, down the gangway, and finally onto the docks.
The problem here was that they were surrounded by crowds of people. This did not help Bianor’s speed or Lukos’s tolerance of the scribe’s purposeful slowness. Thankfully for the pair of them, people did seem to recognize that the day was hot and that an elder like Bianor should not have to dodge them. Instead, they parted for him and for the captain as they made their way down the docks and into Vasiliadon itself.
The sun beat down and despite Bianor’s personal hatred of his captain, he eventually had to reach for the younger man’s arm, silently asking for assistance in walking. Without looking down, Lukos allowed Bianor’s thin hands to grasp his forearm as they walked toward the market. At least now Bianor was allowing them to walk at a healthier clip. Lukos navigated the two of them through the streets, his dark eyes casting this way and that for potential obstacles that might trip or slow up his scribe. To anyone looking, they seemed like father and son, Lukos being helpful by offering both his assistance and carrying the vellum book under his other arm.
At last they made it to market and met with the baron there. The negotiation about the horses was a heated one and ultimately Bianor made the mistake of stating that the horses would be sold in Athenia. This, the baron would not hear of. The horses were supposed to stay in Taengea. They were bred specifically for beauty and the trait was meant to be a boon to the aesthetic of Taengea, not Athenia. Lukos grit his teeth and was mentally strangling Bianor as the baron walked away. He’d never wanted to be rid of money so much as he did in that moment. For the price he’d have paid for those horses here, he could have made twice what they were worth in Athenia.
“Good riddance,” Bianor huffed and sat down on the rim of a fountain in the public square. Lukos glared at him.
“I’m going to suffocate you while you sleep,” he seethed.
Bianor was unruffled by this hollow threat. The captain had threatened to kill him for years and rarely acted on the impulse. “Let me see that purse,” he said, motioning to the vivid blue bag that Lukos had been re-tying to his belt. “I want to see if I put the correct ruby in there. I meant to put a smaller one but I didn’t have the scales.” At Lukos’s black stare, he added a little defensively, “It’s hard to see down in the hold! I’m not as young as I used to be!”
“I think it’s time to replace you,” Lukos snapped as he handed over the bag and dropped down next to Bianor. He’d moved on from the bitter disappointment of the horses though. It would have been a nightmare to ship them for weeks across the ocean. He scanned the market, attempting to find something comparable and sellable for the amount of money they’d brought with them. Twice he locked eyes with another man who seemed to be eyeing the coin purse but he wasn’t overly worried about being stolen from. Vasiiliadon was a famously safe city, thanks to the Order that patrolled its streets.
Bianor sifted through the pouch, heedless of being watched and laid out little jewels between him and Lukos. The jewels glinted wondrously in the sunlight, gorgeous and just begging to be owned. Lukos didn’t want to buy specialty slaves but he wasn’t seeing many other options. People were fairly easy to transport and slaves that were bought and resold were definitely moveable...but would they strike the right price...that was the gamble. If he broke even, that would defeat the whole purpose….
Lost in thought, Lukos leaned back on his hands, with his legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles; the picture of at ease in his surroundings, with Bianor steadily counting out loud, quietly beside him.
Despite it being a hot day, Zephyrus's steps were neither slow, nor in the favor of savoring the quickly dissipating heat as the summer months went to make way for the cooler ones. Instead, the lithe acrobat's long legs were purposeful in stride and strong in emotion. Not that he knew where he was going of course, but wherever it was, he hoped it far enough away from his lover that it would allow them some space to stew by themselves. Eventually, one or the other would come look for each other, and more likely then not, the night would culminate with glorious making up which Zephyrus always enjoyed.
But for now, he was stewing.
Ever since Basilides had made the decision to disband the troupe, Zephyrus had been quiet in the making of said decision, and had merely followed along wherever the former producer of the Children of Mnesmonye wanted to go. He knew, and tried to understand where the mop-haired producer was coming from, and above all Zeph understood that the decision to disband could not have been an easy one. The troupe had travelled together for years, and even Zephyrus saw each and every one of them as family.
Yet after many weeks, almost months of just sitting down and accepting each and every decision, it appears the calm-mannered acrobat had his own limits. In a way, he knew much of the issue was about money. Whoever had said money could not solve happiness - Zephyrus wanted to scoff in their faces. Sure, it wouldn't buy happiness, but it sure would help a great deal right now. He didn't think they'd even be having this argument if they had sufficient funds. Then again, they wouldn't even be in this predicament.
Already in a foul mood to begin with, it merely took a turn for the worst as he entered the market, and the scent of warmly baked bread rolls wafted through his nose. Fool that he was, Zephyrus had stupidly left his coin purse back on the wagon he had shared with Basilides when he had darted off.
Gaze roaming to find the source of the delicious scent, wondering if he could wheedle and charm his way into getting a roll for free, Zephyrus did a double take when something glinted in the afternoon sun, and caught his eye.
His whole body froze, once he saw, just about five or ten metres in front of him, an old man sat hunched over what seemed like a handful of little jewels catching the sunlight in a manner that simply asked for them to be stared at. Almost as if he was entranced as the old man counted out, his mind caught in a turmoil of wanting to solve the situation he now was in with Basilides, it did not take long for the problem to solve itself.
Surely, with this many jewels, the man would not miss a few? Straightening up, his dark eyes peered just a little while more, before his body began to move of its own accord. Naturally flexible and lithe from his many years of training as an acrobat, Zephyrus wasted no time in slipping in the shadows casted by a small stall selling sweets. There, the boy took advantage of a sudden throng of people who seemed to just turn up, crouching down to peer at the old man meticulously counting out loud. Did he want to be stolen from? It was like they were asking for it.
Weaving in between people, feet light as a feather, Zephyrus paused halfway. While he was no stranger with stealing, having been through it a few times back when he still resided in Aetaea as a young and daring teenager... it had been awhile. He wasn't technically dressed in any glaring colors, his usual black pants and tunic easily blending in. But....
Basilides could use the jewel. Just one. That was all was needed. One would be enough to solve most of his lover's issues, and maybe then, their spats and quarrels would reduce in number.
Just one.
Gritting his teeth, Zephyrus pressed forward, and just before he reached the counting man, he intentionally took a longer stride to collide into a lady holding a basket of apples. Said lady was immediately thrown off balance, falling almost directly into the lap of the man next to the elder one who was counting. Her basket however, flung to hit the old man, falling directly where the scattered small jewels were, momentum causing everything to fly every which way.
Zephyrus himself stumbled, a result of being caught in the mess of material that made up his target's chiton's. And just as he had hoped, his hands used to brace his impact on the ground managed to hit just as the jewels spilled and scattered. Deftly, he swept one or two of the jewels into the tunic which hung loose, making a pocket in his shirt by tucking the front of it in, before quickly standing up, dusting his knees off before shooting an apologetic look to the lady and the men.
"My apologies, I am rather clumsy." he muttered hurriedly, flashing a friendly smile to all the parties involved, and offering a hand to the lady. "I do hope no one is injured. Come, let me assist." Politely, Zephyrus began collecting the apples that had fallen, careful to allow the other jewels to be collected by the owner itself, placing the fruits all in a basket before handing them back to the mollified lady. "I don't think any of your fruits are bruised, but if they are, I don't mind at all replacing one of them."
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
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Deleted
Despite it being a hot day, Zephyrus's steps were neither slow, nor in the favor of savoring the quickly dissipating heat as the summer months went to make way for the cooler ones. Instead, the lithe acrobat's long legs were purposeful in stride and strong in emotion. Not that he knew where he was going of course, but wherever it was, he hoped it far enough away from his lover that it would allow them some space to stew by themselves. Eventually, one or the other would come look for each other, and more likely then not, the night would culminate with glorious making up which Zephyrus always enjoyed.
But for now, he was stewing.
Ever since Basilides had made the decision to disband the troupe, Zephyrus had been quiet in the making of said decision, and had merely followed along wherever the former producer of the Children of Mnesmonye wanted to go. He knew, and tried to understand where the mop-haired producer was coming from, and above all Zeph understood that the decision to disband could not have been an easy one. The troupe had travelled together for years, and even Zephyrus saw each and every one of them as family.
Yet after many weeks, almost months of just sitting down and accepting each and every decision, it appears the calm-mannered acrobat had his own limits. In a way, he knew much of the issue was about money. Whoever had said money could not solve happiness - Zephyrus wanted to scoff in their faces. Sure, it wouldn't buy happiness, but it sure would help a great deal right now. He didn't think they'd even be having this argument if they had sufficient funds. Then again, they wouldn't even be in this predicament.
Already in a foul mood to begin with, it merely took a turn for the worst as he entered the market, and the scent of warmly baked bread rolls wafted through his nose. Fool that he was, Zephyrus had stupidly left his coin purse back on the wagon he had shared with Basilides when he had darted off.
Gaze roaming to find the source of the delicious scent, wondering if he could wheedle and charm his way into getting a roll for free, Zephyrus did a double take when something glinted in the afternoon sun, and caught his eye.
His whole body froze, once he saw, just about five or ten metres in front of him, an old man sat hunched over what seemed like a handful of little jewels catching the sunlight in a manner that simply asked for them to be stared at. Almost as if he was entranced as the old man counted out, his mind caught in a turmoil of wanting to solve the situation he now was in with Basilides, it did not take long for the problem to solve itself.
Surely, with this many jewels, the man would not miss a few? Straightening up, his dark eyes peered just a little while more, before his body began to move of its own accord. Naturally flexible and lithe from his many years of training as an acrobat, Zephyrus wasted no time in slipping in the shadows casted by a small stall selling sweets. There, the boy took advantage of a sudden throng of people who seemed to just turn up, crouching down to peer at the old man meticulously counting out loud. Did he want to be stolen from? It was like they were asking for it.
Weaving in between people, feet light as a feather, Zephyrus paused halfway. While he was no stranger with stealing, having been through it a few times back when he still resided in Aetaea as a young and daring teenager... it had been awhile. He wasn't technically dressed in any glaring colors, his usual black pants and tunic easily blending in. But....
Basilides could use the jewel. Just one. That was all was needed. One would be enough to solve most of his lover's issues, and maybe then, their spats and quarrels would reduce in number.
Just one.
Gritting his teeth, Zephyrus pressed forward, and just before he reached the counting man, he intentionally took a longer stride to collide into a lady holding a basket of apples. Said lady was immediately thrown off balance, falling almost directly into the lap of the man next to the elder one who was counting. Her basket however, flung to hit the old man, falling directly where the scattered small jewels were, momentum causing everything to fly every which way.
Zephyrus himself stumbled, a result of being caught in the mess of material that made up his target's chiton's. And just as he had hoped, his hands used to brace his impact on the ground managed to hit just as the jewels spilled and scattered. Deftly, he swept one or two of the jewels into the tunic which hung loose, making a pocket in his shirt by tucking the front of it in, before quickly standing up, dusting his knees off before shooting an apologetic look to the lady and the men.
"My apologies, I am rather clumsy." he muttered hurriedly, flashing a friendly smile to all the parties involved, and offering a hand to the lady. "I do hope no one is injured. Come, let me assist." Politely, Zephyrus began collecting the apples that had fallen, careful to allow the other jewels to be collected by the owner itself, placing the fruits all in a basket before handing them back to the mollified lady. "I don't think any of your fruits are bruised, but if they are, I don't mind at all replacing one of them."
Despite it being a hot day, Zephyrus's steps were neither slow, nor in the favor of savoring the quickly dissipating heat as the summer months went to make way for the cooler ones. Instead, the lithe acrobat's long legs were purposeful in stride and strong in emotion. Not that he knew where he was going of course, but wherever it was, he hoped it far enough away from his lover that it would allow them some space to stew by themselves. Eventually, one or the other would come look for each other, and more likely then not, the night would culminate with glorious making up which Zephyrus always enjoyed.
But for now, he was stewing.
Ever since Basilides had made the decision to disband the troupe, Zephyrus had been quiet in the making of said decision, and had merely followed along wherever the former producer of the Children of Mnesmonye wanted to go. He knew, and tried to understand where the mop-haired producer was coming from, and above all Zeph understood that the decision to disband could not have been an easy one. The troupe had travelled together for years, and even Zephyrus saw each and every one of them as family.
Yet after many weeks, almost months of just sitting down and accepting each and every decision, it appears the calm-mannered acrobat had his own limits. In a way, he knew much of the issue was about money. Whoever had said money could not solve happiness - Zephyrus wanted to scoff in their faces. Sure, it wouldn't buy happiness, but it sure would help a great deal right now. He didn't think they'd even be having this argument if they had sufficient funds. Then again, they wouldn't even be in this predicament.
Already in a foul mood to begin with, it merely took a turn for the worst as he entered the market, and the scent of warmly baked bread rolls wafted through his nose. Fool that he was, Zephyrus had stupidly left his coin purse back on the wagon he had shared with Basilides when he had darted off.
Gaze roaming to find the source of the delicious scent, wondering if he could wheedle and charm his way into getting a roll for free, Zephyrus did a double take when something glinted in the afternoon sun, and caught his eye.
His whole body froze, once he saw, just about five or ten metres in front of him, an old man sat hunched over what seemed like a handful of little jewels catching the sunlight in a manner that simply asked for them to be stared at. Almost as if he was entranced as the old man counted out, his mind caught in a turmoil of wanting to solve the situation he now was in with Basilides, it did not take long for the problem to solve itself.
Surely, with this many jewels, the man would not miss a few? Straightening up, his dark eyes peered just a little while more, before his body began to move of its own accord. Naturally flexible and lithe from his many years of training as an acrobat, Zephyrus wasted no time in slipping in the shadows casted by a small stall selling sweets. There, the boy took advantage of a sudden throng of people who seemed to just turn up, crouching down to peer at the old man meticulously counting out loud. Did he want to be stolen from? It was like they were asking for it.
Weaving in between people, feet light as a feather, Zephyrus paused halfway. While he was no stranger with stealing, having been through it a few times back when he still resided in Aetaea as a young and daring teenager... it had been awhile. He wasn't technically dressed in any glaring colors, his usual black pants and tunic easily blending in. But....
Basilides could use the jewel. Just one. That was all was needed. One would be enough to solve most of his lover's issues, and maybe then, their spats and quarrels would reduce in number.
Just one.
Gritting his teeth, Zephyrus pressed forward, and just before he reached the counting man, he intentionally took a longer stride to collide into a lady holding a basket of apples. Said lady was immediately thrown off balance, falling almost directly into the lap of the man next to the elder one who was counting. Her basket however, flung to hit the old man, falling directly where the scattered small jewels were, momentum causing everything to fly every which way.
Zephyrus himself stumbled, a result of being caught in the mess of material that made up his target's chiton's. And just as he had hoped, his hands used to brace his impact on the ground managed to hit just as the jewels spilled and scattered. Deftly, he swept one or two of the jewels into the tunic which hung loose, making a pocket in his shirt by tucking the front of it in, before quickly standing up, dusting his knees off before shooting an apologetic look to the lady and the men.
"My apologies, I am rather clumsy." he muttered hurriedly, flashing a friendly smile to all the parties involved, and offering a hand to the lady. "I do hope no one is injured. Come, let me assist." Politely, Zephyrus began collecting the apples that had fallen, careful to allow the other jewels to be collected by the owner itself, placing the fruits all in a basket before handing them back to the mollified lady. "I don't think any of your fruits are bruised, but if they are, I don't mind at all replacing one of them."
He was still totaling sums and factoring through logistics of transport, listening to Bianor’s reedy voice counting, when all of a sudden a woman landed square in his lap. Before he could even begin to understand the why’s or the how’s to this situation, she was scrambling, fruit was flying, and he had already hooked an arm around her waist to keep her from going anywhere. One thing he distrusted above all else was a woman flinging herself at him in such a public place. His mind immediately jumped to ‘thief’.
She shoved against him, Bianor was howling and there was some other young man whom he’d noticed earlier also between the three of them. Apples plonked into the fountain water, splashing enough water up onto his and Bianor’s backs that they were soaked a little lower down. Jumping to his feet, hauling the woman with him, he put two hands on her shoulders and spun her around, looking her over, only to get a sudden slap to the face.
“Unhand me!” she demanded. Lukos let go and the woman immediately went between him and Bianor, bypassing the jewels, and started fetching up her apples. Bianor was busy scooping up jewels from underneath her, and Lukos was attempting to pick up both apples and jewels from the dust, bumping hands with Zephyrus as he did so. Then he stared into this man’s face. Beneath the simpering and the apologizing, this man had the look of someone he didn't fully trust.
Bianor thought Lukos getting slapped was highly amusing and wheezed in laughter to himself as his gnarled old hands swiped up jewel after jewel and plunked them back into the bag.
Bianor then accidentally kneed him in the face and Lukos jerked back. He now had a headache and his face stung from the woman slapping him. Through all the commotion, Bianor had dutifully, and slowly, gathered the jewels into the bag. The old man kept the pouch close to his chest while Lukos crossed his arms and surveyed the two people who had no business being near them.
“Get going, then,” he said roughly to the woman with the apples, not wishing her a good day or caring two flying flips about her fruits getting bruised. Hopefully the fruit was unsellable. “Clumsy,” he muttered and then turned his attention to Zephyrus. “You, idiot.” He glared. “Quit sucking up to her and get out of my sight.” Turning to Bianor then, he snatched the jeweled purse away and wrenched open the bag to begin counting.
But there was no ruby. Or sapphire.
“Hey!” he glared at Zephyrus.
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He was still totaling sums and factoring through logistics of transport, listening to Bianor’s reedy voice counting, when all of a sudden a woman landed square in his lap. Before he could even begin to understand the why’s or the how’s to this situation, she was scrambling, fruit was flying, and he had already hooked an arm around her waist to keep her from going anywhere. One thing he distrusted above all else was a woman flinging herself at him in such a public place. His mind immediately jumped to ‘thief’.
She shoved against him, Bianor was howling and there was some other young man whom he’d noticed earlier also between the three of them. Apples plonked into the fountain water, splashing enough water up onto his and Bianor’s backs that they were soaked a little lower down. Jumping to his feet, hauling the woman with him, he put two hands on her shoulders and spun her around, looking her over, only to get a sudden slap to the face.
“Unhand me!” she demanded. Lukos let go and the woman immediately went between him and Bianor, bypassing the jewels, and started fetching up her apples. Bianor was busy scooping up jewels from underneath her, and Lukos was attempting to pick up both apples and jewels from the dust, bumping hands with Zephyrus as he did so. Then he stared into this man’s face. Beneath the simpering and the apologizing, this man had the look of someone he didn't fully trust.
Bianor thought Lukos getting slapped was highly amusing and wheezed in laughter to himself as his gnarled old hands swiped up jewel after jewel and plunked them back into the bag.
Bianor then accidentally kneed him in the face and Lukos jerked back. He now had a headache and his face stung from the woman slapping him. Through all the commotion, Bianor had dutifully, and slowly, gathered the jewels into the bag. The old man kept the pouch close to his chest while Lukos crossed his arms and surveyed the two people who had no business being near them.
“Get going, then,” he said roughly to the woman with the apples, not wishing her a good day or caring two flying flips about her fruits getting bruised. Hopefully the fruit was unsellable. “Clumsy,” he muttered and then turned his attention to Zephyrus. “You, idiot.” He glared. “Quit sucking up to her and get out of my sight.” Turning to Bianor then, he snatched the jeweled purse away and wrenched open the bag to begin counting.
But there was no ruby. Or sapphire.
“Hey!” he glared at Zephyrus.
He was still totaling sums and factoring through logistics of transport, listening to Bianor’s reedy voice counting, when all of a sudden a woman landed square in his lap. Before he could even begin to understand the why’s or the how’s to this situation, she was scrambling, fruit was flying, and he had already hooked an arm around her waist to keep her from going anywhere. One thing he distrusted above all else was a woman flinging herself at him in such a public place. His mind immediately jumped to ‘thief’.
She shoved against him, Bianor was howling and there was some other young man whom he’d noticed earlier also between the three of them. Apples plonked into the fountain water, splashing enough water up onto his and Bianor’s backs that they were soaked a little lower down. Jumping to his feet, hauling the woman with him, he put two hands on her shoulders and spun her around, looking her over, only to get a sudden slap to the face.
“Unhand me!” she demanded. Lukos let go and the woman immediately went between him and Bianor, bypassing the jewels, and started fetching up her apples. Bianor was busy scooping up jewels from underneath her, and Lukos was attempting to pick up both apples and jewels from the dust, bumping hands with Zephyrus as he did so. Then he stared into this man’s face. Beneath the simpering and the apologizing, this man had the look of someone he didn't fully trust.
Bianor thought Lukos getting slapped was highly amusing and wheezed in laughter to himself as his gnarled old hands swiped up jewel after jewel and plunked them back into the bag.
Bianor then accidentally kneed him in the face and Lukos jerked back. He now had a headache and his face stung from the woman slapping him. Through all the commotion, Bianor had dutifully, and slowly, gathered the jewels into the bag. The old man kept the pouch close to his chest while Lukos crossed his arms and surveyed the two people who had no business being near them.
“Get going, then,” he said roughly to the woman with the apples, not wishing her a good day or caring two flying flips about her fruits getting bruised. Hopefully the fruit was unsellable. “Clumsy,” he muttered and then turned his attention to Zephyrus. “You, idiot.” He glared. “Quit sucking up to her and get out of my sight.” Turning to Bianor then, he snatched the jeweled purse away and wrenched open the bag to begin counting.
But there was no ruby. Or sapphire.
“Hey!” he glared at Zephyrus.
When the scruffy male had bumped his hands as they had worked in picking up the scattered fruits, Zephyrus did his level best to keep his head down and eyes only briefly flickering over to the other. The jewels by then, he had safely slipped into the actual pocket in his outfit, secure against his thigh as they finished up helping the woman pick up her wares. "I do hope all has been accounted for, but I must make my way away. My friend awaits me."
Technically, Zephyrus wasn't lying. He had quite unceremoniously stalked off from Basilides, and he was quite sure his lover was awaiting him. Would the few small jewels he had swiped from the fallen loot be enough to solve his lover's worries over the next few months? Would it perhaps, buy them passage to return to Athenia?
He hoped.
Turning on his heel, the male tried to resist the urge to run away, instead keeping his pace even and light and hoping the crowd in the market would be able to swallow him up enough for him to take it at a run.
Apollo had decided to not grace him with his luck for the day however, it would seem.
The moment he heard the loud "Hey!", the lithe acrobat did not waste time looking back at the people. Instead, he started taking off at a run. On a regular day, Zephyrus would be able to keep up his pace. As an acrobat and an athlete, he is someone who had high stamina and considerable strength, but even then he could not contend with a market full of people. There was only so many people he could shove out of the way before it began to slow him down, and his panicked sense of decisions did not help either.
When the male darted down a corridor, he eyed the tall wall that proved the alley to be a dead end. He trusted he could scale it, and try he did. Zephyrus bounded up and jumped on a nearby wagon, launching himself at the top of the wall. But whether it was his panicked senses or just weary from walking for too long, the young brunette failed to clear the top of the wall. His fingers managed to grab on the edges of the wall, and his breathe caught as he tried to haul himself over the wall, only for his grip to slip, and he found himself falling to the ground.
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When the scruffy male had bumped his hands as they had worked in picking up the scattered fruits, Zephyrus did his level best to keep his head down and eyes only briefly flickering over to the other. The jewels by then, he had safely slipped into the actual pocket in his outfit, secure against his thigh as they finished up helping the woman pick up her wares. "I do hope all has been accounted for, but I must make my way away. My friend awaits me."
Technically, Zephyrus wasn't lying. He had quite unceremoniously stalked off from Basilides, and he was quite sure his lover was awaiting him. Would the few small jewels he had swiped from the fallen loot be enough to solve his lover's worries over the next few months? Would it perhaps, buy them passage to return to Athenia?
He hoped.
Turning on his heel, the male tried to resist the urge to run away, instead keeping his pace even and light and hoping the crowd in the market would be able to swallow him up enough for him to take it at a run.
Apollo had decided to not grace him with his luck for the day however, it would seem.
The moment he heard the loud "Hey!", the lithe acrobat did not waste time looking back at the people. Instead, he started taking off at a run. On a regular day, Zephyrus would be able to keep up his pace. As an acrobat and an athlete, he is someone who had high stamina and considerable strength, but even then he could not contend with a market full of people. There was only so many people he could shove out of the way before it began to slow him down, and his panicked sense of decisions did not help either.
When the male darted down a corridor, he eyed the tall wall that proved the alley to be a dead end. He trusted he could scale it, and try he did. Zephyrus bounded up and jumped on a nearby wagon, launching himself at the top of the wall. But whether it was his panicked senses or just weary from walking for too long, the young brunette failed to clear the top of the wall. His fingers managed to grab on the edges of the wall, and his breathe caught as he tried to haul himself over the wall, only for his grip to slip, and he found himself falling to the ground.
When the scruffy male had bumped his hands as they had worked in picking up the scattered fruits, Zephyrus did his level best to keep his head down and eyes only briefly flickering over to the other. The jewels by then, he had safely slipped into the actual pocket in his outfit, secure against his thigh as they finished up helping the woman pick up her wares. "I do hope all has been accounted for, but I must make my way away. My friend awaits me."
Technically, Zephyrus wasn't lying. He had quite unceremoniously stalked off from Basilides, and he was quite sure his lover was awaiting him. Would the few small jewels he had swiped from the fallen loot be enough to solve his lover's worries over the next few months? Would it perhaps, buy them passage to return to Athenia?
He hoped.
Turning on his heel, the male tried to resist the urge to run away, instead keeping his pace even and light and hoping the crowd in the market would be able to swallow him up enough for him to take it at a run.
Apollo had decided to not grace him with his luck for the day however, it would seem.
The moment he heard the loud "Hey!", the lithe acrobat did not waste time looking back at the people. Instead, he started taking off at a run. On a regular day, Zephyrus would be able to keep up his pace. As an acrobat and an athlete, he is someone who had high stamina and considerable strength, but even then he could not contend with a market full of people. There was only so many people he could shove out of the way before it began to slow him down, and his panicked sense of decisions did not help either.
When the male darted down a corridor, he eyed the tall wall that proved the alley to be a dead end. He trusted he could scale it, and try he did. Zephyrus bounded up and jumped on a nearby wagon, launching himself at the top of the wall. But whether it was his panicked senses or just weary from walking for too long, the young brunette failed to clear the top of the wall. His fingers managed to grab on the edges of the wall, and his breathe caught as he tried to haul himself over the wall, only for his grip to slip, and he found himself falling to the ground.
For some reason, when he’d yelled “Hey!” he had the impression that this man would stop and turn around. Perhaps it was Lukos’s only merciful act to be done that day because the second the thief took off, his fate was confirmed. “Better hang onto the rest of those, you old fool!” Lukos shouted as he raced after Zephyrus. Bianor gave an offended huff, watching the captain’s swiftly retreating back.
The old man counted and recounted the jewels, though he did leave them in the bag this time. Two were missing. What he didn’t want was to be connected to the situation he was fairly certain would arise shortly, concerning the thief once Lukos found him. It was best if he, Bianor, was not seen to be involved. He tied the bag as well as he could with his thick, gnarled fingers, and then tied it to his belt.
A passing young man was shocked when he found the front of his chiton grabbed in a shockingly hard grip. “You. Boy.” Bianor used the man’s clothes to pull him down a little bit so that they were face to face. With his stooped back, he could not stand up completely straight anymore. “Take me back to my ship and I’ll give you a coin.” The young only gave this offer two seconds of thought before he offered his arm and walked with Bianor toward the docks.
“Go slower, you dolt!” Bianor hissed right at first. Then, “Who taught you to walk? I’m old! Can’t you see that?”
By the time that Bianor found himself deposited at the base of the gangway, Arktos was frowning and staring down at him and his companion. “Where’s the captain?” the big man asked gruffly, eyeing the young man who bore little to no resemblence to Lukos.
“Chasing some idiot thief,” Bianor grumbled and waved vaguely at the young man who was waiting awkwardly at the base of what was evidently a slaver’s ship. The old man grabbed the ropes on either side of the gangway and was trying to haul his fleshy body up by his skinny arms but Arktos was stumping slowly toward him, arms crossed over his barrel chest, meaty biceps bulging out, and a scowl darkening his already unfriendly features.
“And what do you want, boy?” he demanded.
The young man took a step back, his eyes darting first right, then left, trying to gauge how safe he was. People milled about the dock but they were minding their own business. They weren’t paying the least bit of attention to the way Arktos was now bearing down on the young man, dwarfing him in his shadow. The young man shrank but gave an upward tilt to his chin.
“I was promised coin for delivering the old man.”
Arktos sighed through his nose and then turned. “Oy! Catos!”
From up on deck, a wirey older man in his upper forties popped his head up over the railing. “Yeah?”
“This boy wants coin. Get him one.”
“Aye,” Catos disappeared. Arktos stared at the boy. The boy studied the planks of the dock. Bianor grumbled his way up the gangway. The ship rocked, gulls called overhead, and Catos took forever finding a coin. But at last, the man hurried down the gangway and pressed the small coin into Arktos’s palm, who in turn, held it above the young man’s head in order to make him jump for it.
The young man actually gave Arktos a look and said, “That is not enough coin for the trouble this has been.”
“Gonna be a whole lot more trouble if I have to keep looking at your snotty face,” Arktos leered. That was enough for the young man. He swallowed his dignity, jumped for the coin, and snatched it from between Arktos’s thick fingers. Then he walked hurriedly away, swearing under his breath.
Meanwhile, Lukos shoved violently through a couple wandering the market, yelling, “Thief!” at Zephyrus in front of him. Whether because they did not like the thought of a thief running loose, or because they were the wake of Zephyrus just head of him, people melted out of his way. Like his quarry, Lukos too, was a bit of an athlete. His exercise did not come from nimble, acrobatic feats. It came from long hours of rowing, giving him incredible stamina. Not to mention that chasing down people who did not want to be caught was quite literally what he did for a living.
He bounded after Zephyrus like a dog on the hunt, leaping across overturned baskets, making hairpin turns to avoid groups who simply would not move, and simply bursting in between other people who weren’t fast enough or smart enough to get out of his way. When the acrobat made the mistake of going down a narrow alley, Lukos slowed to a prowl, watching as Zephyrus tried and failed to reach the top of the wall. He moved in once he Zephyrus hit the ground.
“Empty your fucking pockets,” he snapped.
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For some reason, when he’d yelled “Hey!” he had the impression that this man would stop and turn around. Perhaps it was Lukos’s only merciful act to be done that day because the second the thief took off, his fate was confirmed. “Better hang onto the rest of those, you old fool!” Lukos shouted as he raced after Zephyrus. Bianor gave an offended huff, watching the captain’s swiftly retreating back.
The old man counted and recounted the jewels, though he did leave them in the bag this time. Two were missing. What he didn’t want was to be connected to the situation he was fairly certain would arise shortly, concerning the thief once Lukos found him. It was best if he, Bianor, was not seen to be involved. He tied the bag as well as he could with his thick, gnarled fingers, and then tied it to his belt.
A passing young man was shocked when he found the front of his chiton grabbed in a shockingly hard grip. “You. Boy.” Bianor used the man’s clothes to pull him down a little bit so that they were face to face. With his stooped back, he could not stand up completely straight anymore. “Take me back to my ship and I’ll give you a coin.” The young only gave this offer two seconds of thought before he offered his arm and walked with Bianor toward the docks.
“Go slower, you dolt!” Bianor hissed right at first. Then, “Who taught you to walk? I’m old! Can’t you see that?”
By the time that Bianor found himself deposited at the base of the gangway, Arktos was frowning and staring down at him and his companion. “Where’s the captain?” the big man asked gruffly, eyeing the young man who bore little to no resemblence to Lukos.
“Chasing some idiot thief,” Bianor grumbled and waved vaguely at the young man who was waiting awkwardly at the base of what was evidently a slaver’s ship. The old man grabbed the ropes on either side of the gangway and was trying to haul his fleshy body up by his skinny arms but Arktos was stumping slowly toward him, arms crossed over his barrel chest, meaty biceps bulging out, and a scowl darkening his already unfriendly features.
“And what do you want, boy?” he demanded.
The young man took a step back, his eyes darting first right, then left, trying to gauge how safe he was. People milled about the dock but they were minding their own business. They weren’t paying the least bit of attention to the way Arktos was now bearing down on the young man, dwarfing him in his shadow. The young man shrank but gave an upward tilt to his chin.
“I was promised coin for delivering the old man.”
Arktos sighed through his nose and then turned. “Oy! Catos!”
From up on deck, a wirey older man in his upper forties popped his head up over the railing. “Yeah?”
“This boy wants coin. Get him one.”
“Aye,” Catos disappeared. Arktos stared at the boy. The boy studied the planks of the dock. Bianor grumbled his way up the gangway. The ship rocked, gulls called overhead, and Catos took forever finding a coin. But at last, the man hurried down the gangway and pressed the small coin into Arktos’s palm, who in turn, held it above the young man’s head in order to make him jump for it.
The young man actually gave Arktos a look and said, “That is not enough coin for the trouble this has been.”
“Gonna be a whole lot more trouble if I have to keep looking at your snotty face,” Arktos leered. That was enough for the young man. He swallowed his dignity, jumped for the coin, and snatched it from between Arktos’s thick fingers. Then he walked hurriedly away, swearing under his breath.
Meanwhile, Lukos shoved violently through a couple wandering the market, yelling, “Thief!” at Zephyrus in front of him. Whether because they did not like the thought of a thief running loose, or because they were the wake of Zephyrus just head of him, people melted out of his way. Like his quarry, Lukos too, was a bit of an athlete. His exercise did not come from nimble, acrobatic feats. It came from long hours of rowing, giving him incredible stamina. Not to mention that chasing down people who did not want to be caught was quite literally what he did for a living.
He bounded after Zephyrus like a dog on the hunt, leaping across overturned baskets, making hairpin turns to avoid groups who simply would not move, and simply bursting in between other people who weren’t fast enough or smart enough to get out of his way. When the acrobat made the mistake of going down a narrow alley, Lukos slowed to a prowl, watching as Zephyrus tried and failed to reach the top of the wall. He moved in once he Zephyrus hit the ground.
“Empty your fucking pockets,” he snapped.
For some reason, when he’d yelled “Hey!” he had the impression that this man would stop and turn around. Perhaps it was Lukos’s only merciful act to be done that day because the second the thief took off, his fate was confirmed. “Better hang onto the rest of those, you old fool!” Lukos shouted as he raced after Zephyrus. Bianor gave an offended huff, watching the captain’s swiftly retreating back.
The old man counted and recounted the jewels, though he did leave them in the bag this time. Two were missing. What he didn’t want was to be connected to the situation he was fairly certain would arise shortly, concerning the thief once Lukos found him. It was best if he, Bianor, was not seen to be involved. He tied the bag as well as he could with his thick, gnarled fingers, and then tied it to his belt.
A passing young man was shocked when he found the front of his chiton grabbed in a shockingly hard grip. “You. Boy.” Bianor used the man’s clothes to pull him down a little bit so that they were face to face. With his stooped back, he could not stand up completely straight anymore. “Take me back to my ship and I’ll give you a coin.” The young only gave this offer two seconds of thought before he offered his arm and walked with Bianor toward the docks.
“Go slower, you dolt!” Bianor hissed right at first. Then, “Who taught you to walk? I’m old! Can’t you see that?”
By the time that Bianor found himself deposited at the base of the gangway, Arktos was frowning and staring down at him and his companion. “Where’s the captain?” the big man asked gruffly, eyeing the young man who bore little to no resemblence to Lukos.
“Chasing some idiot thief,” Bianor grumbled and waved vaguely at the young man who was waiting awkwardly at the base of what was evidently a slaver’s ship. The old man grabbed the ropes on either side of the gangway and was trying to haul his fleshy body up by his skinny arms but Arktos was stumping slowly toward him, arms crossed over his barrel chest, meaty biceps bulging out, and a scowl darkening his already unfriendly features.
“And what do you want, boy?” he demanded.
The young man took a step back, his eyes darting first right, then left, trying to gauge how safe he was. People milled about the dock but they were minding their own business. They weren’t paying the least bit of attention to the way Arktos was now bearing down on the young man, dwarfing him in his shadow. The young man shrank but gave an upward tilt to his chin.
“I was promised coin for delivering the old man.”
Arktos sighed through his nose and then turned. “Oy! Catos!”
From up on deck, a wirey older man in his upper forties popped his head up over the railing. “Yeah?”
“This boy wants coin. Get him one.”
“Aye,” Catos disappeared. Arktos stared at the boy. The boy studied the planks of the dock. Bianor grumbled his way up the gangway. The ship rocked, gulls called overhead, and Catos took forever finding a coin. But at last, the man hurried down the gangway and pressed the small coin into Arktos’s palm, who in turn, held it above the young man’s head in order to make him jump for it.
The young man actually gave Arktos a look and said, “That is not enough coin for the trouble this has been.”
“Gonna be a whole lot more trouble if I have to keep looking at your snotty face,” Arktos leered. That was enough for the young man. He swallowed his dignity, jumped for the coin, and snatched it from between Arktos’s thick fingers. Then he walked hurriedly away, swearing under his breath.
Meanwhile, Lukos shoved violently through a couple wandering the market, yelling, “Thief!” at Zephyrus in front of him. Whether because they did not like the thought of a thief running loose, or because they were the wake of Zephyrus just head of him, people melted out of his way. Like his quarry, Lukos too, was a bit of an athlete. His exercise did not come from nimble, acrobatic feats. It came from long hours of rowing, giving him incredible stamina. Not to mention that chasing down people who did not want to be caught was quite literally what he did for a living.
He bounded after Zephyrus like a dog on the hunt, leaping across overturned baskets, making hairpin turns to avoid groups who simply would not move, and simply bursting in between other people who weren’t fast enough or smart enough to get out of his way. When the acrobat made the mistake of going down a narrow alley, Lukos slowed to a prowl, watching as Zephyrus tried and failed to reach the top of the wall. He moved in once he Zephyrus hit the ground.
“Empty your fucking pockets,” he snapped.
The impact when he fell , thankfully, it the fleshiest part of his body on his arse, but considering how skinny Zephyrus was, it was no surprise that he still groaned in pain upon falling, his senses jarred and slightly disjointed for a brief moment. By the time he could pick himself off the ground and look up, the man whom he had taken from now loomed dubiously at the only other escape route, the one he had just came in from earlier.
The glare was enough to give one chills down his spine, but Zephyrus was in a mood, and defiant to boot. Did he have a lot to lose? He wasn't entirely sure, but the events of the morning compounded upon the stress of all his closest friends leaving and parting ways, has not made his sense of reading the mood in a situation any better.
So instead of cowering like a good, sensible person who valued his life would do, instead the acrobat scowled and glowered at the man who just snapped, before smirking in a way that was meant to goad the other person. "Do I look like I have pockets? Open your eyes." he muttered, standing up and dusting himself off, but never once allowing his eyes to leave the other man.
Backing up as he prowled towards him, the acrobat tried one last ditch attempt at running, and dived towards the man, intending to skid underneath him before taking off at a run - because he was entirely sure he could outrun the fellow, as long as he got away.
But of course, Zephyrus wasn't exactly in the right frame of mind as of now.
This character is currently a work in progress.
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This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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The impact when he fell , thankfully, it the fleshiest part of his body on his arse, but considering how skinny Zephyrus was, it was no surprise that he still groaned in pain upon falling, his senses jarred and slightly disjointed for a brief moment. By the time he could pick himself off the ground and look up, the man whom he had taken from now loomed dubiously at the only other escape route, the one he had just came in from earlier.
The glare was enough to give one chills down his spine, but Zephyrus was in a mood, and defiant to boot. Did he have a lot to lose? He wasn't entirely sure, but the events of the morning compounded upon the stress of all his closest friends leaving and parting ways, has not made his sense of reading the mood in a situation any better.
So instead of cowering like a good, sensible person who valued his life would do, instead the acrobat scowled and glowered at the man who just snapped, before smirking in a way that was meant to goad the other person. "Do I look like I have pockets? Open your eyes." he muttered, standing up and dusting himself off, but never once allowing his eyes to leave the other man.
Backing up as he prowled towards him, the acrobat tried one last ditch attempt at running, and dived towards the man, intending to skid underneath him before taking off at a run - because he was entirely sure he could outrun the fellow, as long as he got away.
But of course, Zephyrus wasn't exactly in the right frame of mind as of now.
The impact when he fell , thankfully, it the fleshiest part of his body on his arse, but considering how skinny Zephyrus was, it was no surprise that he still groaned in pain upon falling, his senses jarred and slightly disjointed for a brief moment. By the time he could pick himself off the ground and look up, the man whom he had taken from now loomed dubiously at the only other escape route, the one he had just came in from earlier.
The glare was enough to give one chills down his spine, but Zephyrus was in a mood, and defiant to boot. Did he have a lot to lose? He wasn't entirely sure, but the events of the morning compounded upon the stress of all his closest friends leaving and parting ways, has not made his sense of reading the mood in a situation any better.
So instead of cowering like a good, sensible person who valued his life would do, instead the acrobat scowled and glowered at the man who just snapped, before smirking in a way that was meant to goad the other person. "Do I look like I have pockets? Open your eyes." he muttered, standing up and dusting himself off, but never once allowing his eyes to leave the other man.
Backing up as he prowled towards him, the acrobat tried one last ditch attempt at running, and dived towards the man, intending to skid underneath him before taking off at a run - because he was entirely sure he could outrun the fellow, as long as he got away.
But of course, Zephyrus wasn't exactly in the right frame of mind as of now.
The narrow walls of the alley were not wide enough to permit the acrobat to dash around Lukos. He’d have to go through him - something Lukos would not allow. The man’s pockets were going to be emptied one way or another and the smartass comment about not having them only served to make Lukos’s expression go blank. He extended one hand and motioned with his fingers for Zephryus to hand over the jewels. His plan after the jewels were safely in his palm was to sucker punch the kid, and leave.
Zephryus backed up, prompting Lukos to step forward. As soon as the other man scowled, Lukos’s indifference vanished. The other’s body language was like a person shouting into the night, betraying that he intended to run or fight his way out. Lukos bent his knees slightly, ready to spring if necessary.
All at once, the acrobat darted forward and dropped into a slide. Lukos didn’t give him the chance to get further than a foot. Like a cat, he pounced. In one motion, he withdrew the dagger from his belt and drove it into the center of Zephryus’s heart. The force of the blow pinned Zephyrus to the ground. Lukos jerked the dagger back out and calmly wiped the blade clean on the ends of Zephyrus’s shirt, before replacing it in his belt.
He was crouched over the body, blocking it from view from anyone in the street. Because of the immediacy and the force of the stab, his victim did not have time or capacity to scream. Lukos watched, with pupils blown and black like a shark’s, as the Zephyrus’s eyes rolled up into the back of his head. The body would survive for another few minutes but the damage was done. The acrobat would not be saved and would be dead by the time he was found.
“Let’s take a look-see into your pockets, you fucking moron,” Lukos said pleasantly and reached in. Within seconds he’d fished out the jewels but the man had precious little on his person and nothing else of value. Sighing, Lukos looked the man over and worked his tongue against the sharp edges of his back teeth. “I guess it’s been a bad day for everybody, huh?” Giving Zephyrus a comforting pat on the left side of his chest, where the blood had not yet seeped into his shirt, Lukos then stood up, pocketed the jewels and left the alleyway.
He walked at a sedate pace through the crowded marketplace, not drawing much attention. One man did stop him to ask if he’d caught the thief and Lukos offered a half shrug. “He’ll get his dues in the afterlife,” to which the man took this as a ‘no’ and gave Lukos a hard pat on the back.
“He will,” the man assured him and then handed him one of the last loaves of bread from his stall. “It seems like today has just been bad,” the vendor said.
Lukos smiled and bit into the roll, lifting it in thanks and said around his mouthful, “Mine’s improving, actually.” The vendor smiled in return and turned back to his stall, starting the process of cleaning up. Lukos moved through the market, a bit lighter in step, smirking most of the way. It was amazing what a little bit of kindness from a stranger could do to bring a little levity to one’s day.
He was done with the roll by the time he got to the dock and he found Arktos ready and waiting. The big man raised one eyebrow. “You got the jewels back, I guess?”
“I did,” Lukos patted him on his big arm as he passed. “And a snack for my trouble.”
“Why didn’t you bring me a snack?” Arktos’s shoulders sagged as he followed Lukos up the gangplank.
“Because you don’t deserve a snack, you big ox.”
Arktos made a face at Lukos’s back as he followed the captain on deck.
Unfortunately, once the body of the acrobat was found, there was no one in the market who was either willing or able to identify who might have killed him. The man was a stranger. Perhaps he deserved it? After all, he was not really known in Taengea and no one was especially upset at his death. Business went on and the body was given its proper rites by some caring citizens, then placed in an unmarked grave outside the city.
Lukos, meanwhile, once evening came, went out for a drink.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
The narrow walls of the alley were not wide enough to permit the acrobat to dash around Lukos. He’d have to go through him - something Lukos would not allow. The man’s pockets were going to be emptied one way or another and the smartass comment about not having them only served to make Lukos’s expression go blank. He extended one hand and motioned with his fingers for Zephryus to hand over the jewels. His plan after the jewels were safely in his palm was to sucker punch the kid, and leave.
Zephryus backed up, prompting Lukos to step forward. As soon as the other man scowled, Lukos’s indifference vanished. The other’s body language was like a person shouting into the night, betraying that he intended to run or fight his way out. Lukos bent his knees slightly, ready to spring if necessary.
All at once, the acrobat darted forward and dropped into a slide. Lukos didn’t give him the chance to get further than a foot. Like a cat, he pounced. In one motion, he withdrew the dagger from his belt and drove it into the center of Zephryus’s heart. The force of the blow pinned Zephyrus to the ground. Lukos jerked the dagger back out and calmly wiped the blade clean on the ends of Zephyrus’s shirt, before replacing it in his belt.
He was crouched over the body, blocking it from view from anyone in the street. Because of the immediacy and the force of the stab, his victim did not have time or capacity to scream. Lukos watched, with pupils blown and black like a shark’s, as the Zephyrus’s eyes rolled up into the back of his head. The body would survive for another few minutes but the damage was done. The acrobat would not be saved and would be dead by the time he was found.
“Let’s take a look-see into your pockets, you fucking moron,” Lukos said pleasantly and reached in. Within seconds he’d fished out the jewels but the man had precious little on his person and nothing else of value. Sighing, Lukos looked the man over and worked his tongue against the sharp edges of his back teeth. “I guess it’s been a bad day for everybody, huh?” Giving Zephyrus a comforting pat on the left side of his chest, where the blood had not yet seeped into his shirt, Lukos then stood up, pocketed the jewels and left the alleyway.
He walked at a sedate pace through the crowded marketplace, not drawing much attention. One man did stop him to ask if he’d caught the thief and Lukos offered a half shrug. “He’ll get his dues in the afterlife,” to which the man took this as a ‘no’ and gave Lukos a hard pat on the back.
“He will,” the man assured him and then handed him one of the last loaves of bread from his stall. “It seems like today has just been bad,” the vendor said.
Lukos smiled and bit into the roll, lifting it in thanks and said around his mouthful, “Mine’s improving, actually.” The vendor smiled in return and turned back to his stall, starting the process of cleaning up. Lukos moved through the market, a bit lighter in step, smirking most of the way. It was amazing what a little bit of kindness from a stranger could do to bring a little levity to one’s day.
He was done with the roll by the time he got to the dock and he found Arktos ready and waiting. The big man raised one eyebrow. “You got the jewels back, I guess?”
“I did,” Lukos patted him on his big arm as he passed. “And a snack for my trouble.”
“Why didn’t you bring me a snack?” Arktos’s shoulders sagged as he followed Lukos up the gangplank.
“Because you don’t deserve a snack, you big ox.”
Arktos made a face at Lukos’s back as he followed the captain on deck.
Unfortunately, once the body of the acrobat was found, there was no one in the market who was either willing or able to identify who might have killed him. The man was a stranger. Perhaps he deserved it? After all, he was not really known in Taengea and no one was especially upset at his death. Business went on and the body was given its proper rites by some caring citizens, then placed in an unmarked grave outside the city.
Lukos, meanwhile, once evening came, went out for a drink.
The narrow walls of the alley were not wide enough to permit the acrobat to dash around Lukos. He’d have to go through him - something Lukos would not allow. The man’s pockets were going to be emptied one way or another and the smartass comment about not having them only served to make Lukos’s expression go blank. He extended one hand and motioned with his fingers for Zephryus to hand over the jewels. His plan after the jewels were safely in his palm was to sucker punch the kid, and leave.
Zephryus backed up, prompting Lukos to step forward. As soon as the other man scowled, Lukos’s indifference vanished. The other’s body language was like a person shouting into the night, betraying that he intended to run or fight his way out. Lukos bent his knees slightly, ready to spring if necessary.
All at once, the acrobat darted forward and dropped into a slide. Lukos didn’t give him the chance to get further than a foot. Like a cat, he pounced. In one motion, he withdrew the dagger from his belt and drove it into the center of Zephryus’s heart. The force of the blow pinned Zephyrus to the ground. Lukos jerked the dagger back out and calmly wiped the blade clean on the ends of Zephyrus’s shirt, before replacing it in his belt.
He was crouched over the body, blocking it from view from anyone in the street. Because of the immediacy and the force of the stab, his victim did not have time or capacity to scream. Lukos watched, with pupils blown and black like a shark’s, as the Zephyrus’s eyes rolled up into the back of his head. The body would survive for another few minutes but the damage was done. The acrobat would not be saved and would be dead by the time he was found.
“Let’s take a look-see into your pockets, you fucking moron,” Lukos said pleasantly and reached in. Within seconds he’d fished out the jewels but the man had precious little on his person and nothing else of value. Sighing, Lukos looked the man over and worked his tongue against the sharp edges of his back teeth. “I guess it’s been a bad day for everybody, huh?” Giving Zephyrus a comforting pat on the left side of his chest, where the blood had not yet seeped into his shirt, Lukos then stood up, pocketed the jewels and left the alleyway.
He walked at a sedate pace through the crowded marketplace, not drawing much attention. One man did stop him to ask if he’d caught the thief and Lukos offered a half shrug. “He’ll get his dues in the afterlife,” to which the man took this as a ‘no’ and gave Lukos a hard pat on the back.
“He will,” the man assured him and then handed him one of the last loaves of bread from his stall. “It seems like today has just been bad,” the vendor said.
Lukos smiled and bit into the roll, lifting it in thanks and said around his mouthful, “Mine’s improving, actually.” The vendor smiled in return and turned back to his stall, starting the process of cleaning up. Lukos moved through the market, a bit lighter in step, smirking most of the way. It was amazing what a little bit of kindness from a stranger could do to bring a little levity to one’s day.
He was done with the roll by the time he got to the dock and he found Arktos ready and waiting. The big man raised one eyebrow. “You got the jewels back, I guess?”
“I did,” Lukos patted him on his big arm as he passed. “And a snack for my trouble.”
“Why didn’t you bring me a snack?” Arktos’s shoulders sagged as he followed Lukos up the gangplank.
“Because you don’t deserve a snack, you big ox.”
Arktos made a face at Lukos’s back as he followed the captain on deck.
Unfortunately, once the body of the acrobat was found, there was no one in the market who was either willing or able to identify who might have killed him. The man was a stranger. Perhaps he deserved it? After all, he was not really known in Taengea and no one was especially upset at his death. Business went on and the body was given its proper rites by some caring citizens, then placed in an unmarked grave outside the city.
Lukos, meanwhile, once evening came, went out for a drink.