Royal Rumors
Sometimes Club: Dangeon's Tale — 07/02/12
- Oilrag, Saxifrage
- Dead Hope Village: Main Square
Oilrag strides into the village square. He would look quite dignified if he didn't occasionally stumble over one beggar or another. Kicking the last one, a scrawny rat, aside, he stands in the center of the square.
Saxifrage happens to be drifting through the square, unaccompanied, en route to who knows where. Hands are clasped behind her back and eyes are locked on the cobbles, as the jill deftly sidesteps various other creatures present. She approaches Oilrag, though is unaware of it.
Oilrag turns to her and nods in greeting. "What're ye doing out here?"
Saxifrage's heart leaps to her throat. "Oh," she mumbles, once recognizing the speaker. "Good afternoon, sir. Just out for a walk, really. Not sure why I chose this path." The jill peers beyond Oilrag, then to her left, and then right. "And you?"
Oilrag shrugs. "Wandering around and observing other instances of extreme inefficiency, mostly. Which are far too numerous here."
"Inefficiency?" The jill continues to appraise their locus. "What can be done to save a withering town?"
"I...don't know." Oilrag gestures at the village around them. "But anything other than.../this./"
After a moment of quiet contemplation, Saxifrage nods. "Well, I am just a hotelier's daughter. I wouldn't begin to know how to fix.. 'this'." She fidgets with a tendril of hair.
"I don't know if anybeast would." Oilrag gazes around the square with pale eyes.
Saxifrage musters a thin smile. "I suppose you've heard about the rebuilding of the fleet. It seems like a step in the right direction," she says. "Captain Darkwater is coordinating the effort--with the help of a fox, no less. Can you image that? A fox, on our island, advising builders."
"Rats, I can suffer the presence of. But foxes..." Oilrag grimaces.
Saxifrage's smile inflates a bit. "It would benefit the powers that be to keep an eye on her, I'd think."
The grimace morphs into a small humourless half-grin. "I am an expert on watching those in power, if I do say so myself," Oilrag says.
"Yes, it's sort of your duty, sir?" Saxifrage eventually permits the smile to drop. "In any case, we do need a fleet. And I have faith in Captain Darkwater."
Oilrag nods. "He seems to know what he's doing. And he's a polecat."
Saxifrage bobs her head enthusiastically. Quiet, so as not to be overheard by the languorous rodents nearby, she murmurs, "We've always been the clever ones," followed by a playful wink.
Oilrag returns the wink slowly, whispering, "Which is why I'm not dead yet."
A giggle erupts from the jill. "I cannot say I've ever flirted with death, so I don't know how my wits would serve me. But I'll look to your example for hope." The downtrodden townrats seem eager to avoid the pair; even the bums give Saxifrage and Oilrag a wide breadth, though steal cagey glances now and then. "How fares the king? Her majesty is rooming at the Knothill for a few nights. She certainly has a.. unique spirit about her."
"Indeed." Oilrag nods agreement. "As for the king...Normal. I cannot, unfortunately, say that he is well, because for him, /well/ is pretty much impossible, sanity-wise."
Saxifrage's brows lift at his disclosure. "So the rumors are true?" she asks, almost a whisper.
"That would depend. What rumors?" Oilrag turns about to face her, his pale, corrupt eyes locking on to hers.
Saxifrage shrinks, lifting both palms in contrition. "Oh, nothing--just gossip. Among the locals. And the soldiers. And--well. About the king's worsening health."
"Physically, he's as able as any ruler who constantly is drunk and/or feasting, then spends the rest of their day sitting indoors, and is transported on a chair carried by servants if they must go outdoors. But as to his mental health...I am concerned," Oilrag says.
Biting her lower lip, Saxifrage nods. "As am I," she simply states, as she lacks the liberty to say much more on the matter.
Oilrag nods as well. He wheels about and strides off, simply saying, "I have another matter to attend to. Farewell."
