Trust No One
- Ferilla, Kevi, Oakenpaw, Bafaloukos
- Ferravale: Marketplace
Some of the market stalls close as dusk approaches, but the majority light lanterns to illuminate their signs and wares, content on selling well into the agreeable summer night. The place is still crowded, but not nearly as much as it is during the early afternoon, with a reasonable amount of people milling about. Of course, these make moving virtually undetected a breeze for the slender ermine, the collar of her jacket pushed up slightly in a subtle attempt to make her less recognizable. She pads softly past a line of stalls, gazing idly at some of the wares. She doesn't seem to be in much of a buying mood, and every once in a while her keen eyes flick around, as if looking for someone or scanning the low line of shops across the square. [Ferilla]
The door to the brewery opens and a dark, lanky vixen is shoved out by one of the larger brewery staff, a badger. "You're naugh' to keep crawlin' in here and freeloadin' the place, vixen! See that y'remember this time--stop flirtin' ev'rybeast, I mean it! Tap-guzzlin' mangetailed... aaugh! Get out!" He shoves her roughly against her good side, and she trips awkwardly down the steps, shooting a grin back and winking, "Oh, I'll remember you big oaf. Just like I'll remember the taste of that summer ale your boys always get for me. I could reach into a window and have several pints handed to me if I really wanted, you know. I just don't because I know you just LOVE bumpin' into me." She blows him a kiss and makes her way onto the street. "No fun, he is. Hm..." She spots Ferilla's back but her eyes pass over, and she walks toward a stall just next to the one the ermine is at. [Kevi]
The commotion is enough to dry Ferilla's eyes for a few moments, following the action as her paw is pressed into the pocket of her jacket casually. Studying the creature, her head tilts sideways, before the vendor at the stall, an aging fox, more silver than red, gets her attention roughly. "If ya ain't gonna buy summat, get yer tail outta here, snowweasel!" he growls, motioning her aside. Ferilla peers behind her, eying the line of nonexistent customers waiting for her to move aside. "What're you selling that's in such high demand, old timer?" she asks smoothly, with a little time to kill and a growing interest in the vixen. Kevi's stop at the nearby stall gives Ferilla a fair amount of time to look her over while she's making small talk with the old todd, who seems to be selling little bags of colored powder her claims to be venerable herbal remedies.
Kevi's face is jutted forward, eyes staring with deep interest into that vendor's eyes as he nervously explains just exactly how he makes his date and apple mince pies, reluctantly reaching down to pull out a pan to show her as she asks what he's baking them on. Her scarred side faces the ermine as she looks down at what the vendor does, before looking side to side and in mid-reach for one of the display pies as her stare catches Ferilla's. She grins, and finishes taking it, shoving it into a pocket in the loincloth, as the vendor comes back up and the vixen turns back to him, "Oh, is that so? Very nice. You know, my mother had one exactly like it."
Oakenpaw comes walking along with his stout staff always with him and when he spiesteh ermine he makes a straight path toward her
The ermine gives Kevi a soft, casual smile before turning back to deal with her own vendor. "Healing effects, huh? Well, it doesn't look to have done ye much good." she points out. The aged fox balks, growling a little. "I'll 'ave yew know this powder 'ere's what's kept me old bones alive so long!" he insists, shoving a bag at her. "Got one that fixes rotten teeth?" she asks with a playful smirk that shows off her own nearly impeccable set of pearly whites, his own yellowed remains paling in comparison. "If you's only gonna mock me, i'll see yew off, lassie!" he snarls defensively.
The vixen's vendor shudders as Kevi's good paw comes up and taps his nose, "You know, cooking like my mother will get you visited /very/ often, I should make you aware. You wouldn't... mind that, would you? No?" She leans in further, scratching the weasel between his ears and whispering something as she reaches for something in his waist pocket. "Okay, you take care now. Yes, I'll take one. Here you go, just for you." She reaches in and flips him a coin, walking past the ermine to the stall opposite the one she's at. "Oh, how nice. I may need to visit this stall.. in 20 seasons." She winks.
Oakenpaw doesn't normally interrupt romance in the making, not even between vermin, but this appears to be important. Stumping his staff, the falcon's feather dangling from it's upper haft, the Hare stops in front of the ermine. He bows and tips his ear "marm" he says "I have to ask you if you know a lil Ermine gale named Maxiene? It seems there is one about these days, cute lil gel ya know wot?
The jill stumbles a little as Oakenpaw steps in front of her, getting well within her personal space as she was really quite close to the counter. Additionally, she had been keeping an eye on Kevi and really hadn't been expecting a hare to pop up in front of her. "Hm?" she responds, making a little confused noise as she processes his question. "No.. I don't know any ermine kits." she says evenly. The vendor sits back, glaring at Ferilla. "Why?" she asks, feeling the need to keep the conversation going despite not really caring about the answer.
Kevi is interrupted in her stroll to the opposite stall and stands in front of the hare, black arms crossed in front of a russet chest, "If you have any 'cute lil gels' you're looking for, you should probably not tell the likes of us about them. I tend to have ambitions to corrupt said gels into methods not seen as.. exactly tactful? To their elders. So if you want me to be on the lookout for your lil ermine gel, please continue about her. Height, fur color, clothing... it's all helpful." She grins, fixing something on the hare's collar and giving him a coy smile.
Ferilla rolls her eyes gently, leaning into the stall and resting one arm on the counter, putting her weight on the bent arm. "Calm yourself, old one, i'll take two bags, one of those green ones, and the other... let's do purple, that could be fun." she smiles, sliding a few coins across the tabletop as he passes her the two pouches. "Takit an' go." he growls, snatching the coins without looking at them closely. "Pleased to do just that." she grins, straightening up and securing the pouches to her belt. Stretching out her lanky form, she turns a bit, looking the vixen over slowly before letting her eyes drift across the other stalls. Apparently her contact wasn't coming tonight.
The vixen, meanwhile, finds herself a seat in front of a stall selling gems. She has no need to steal anything and she seems at least to be relaxing her charm a bit, resting her footpaws (up on top of the display much to the annoyance of the stallkeeper) and eating the second of the two pies. She glances over at the ermine, now her turn to observe closely. And then that other one. She looks at the vendor, whose stall is littered with precious stones. "Aw, these are pretty. I bet I could have one of the bigger ones as an eye? Maybe an amethyst? What do you think, would that be impressive? Well what are you staring at, then?" She snaps, throwing a crumb at him.
The market takes on a gloomy tangerine glow as the sun drops behind its western roofs. Night is near. While some of the vendors have begun to pack up their wares, others--those proffering food, libations, and magic--simply spark lamps. Not too far from the ladies and hare's exchange, Bafaloukos swills wine with a pair of rats. They look to be telling him a story, rather loudly, and pause their laughter now and then to re-enact a highlight. He laughs with them, though the way he languorously leans into a tent post argues that he's bored with the tale and ready for any escape.
The ermine's eyes are drawn back to the interaction. "You're real good at harassing shopkeepers." Ferilla points out gently, smiling a bit. Her arms fold across her chest as she continues, "And I think a topaz would be more appropriate, anyhow." she says, her tail swaying from side to side behind her as she speaks. In the background, the old fox is closing up shop for the night, having, in his mind, dealt with enough for one evening.
Kevi is shoo'd off anyway by the gem-vendor, "Well it looks as if I'll be keeping this one for the time being." It's quite alright, as the vixen may be just pretending at being blind in the eye. "I have a way with some of them and making friends about the same rate that I lose them. It has nothing really whatsoever to do with me, as you may well know. I use what I'm born with; that's my rule." She makes her way over to Bafaloukos, who is a prime target for the vixen. She stops at a stall just shy of him, dead center in his line of sight, pawing through a variety of spices.
With each elapsing minute the market's dusky glow degrades to purple, and soon black. Spindly shadows bloom in the light of the lanterns and cook fires, cast by the merriment of various bodies. Lucky for Bafaloukos, his disinterest in the rats' story had precipitated a lazy fascination with motley trio nearby. He watches as the vixen and jill turn from the hare, taking casual sips of his wine. Gold eyes follow Kevi as she meddles in the spicemonger's merchandise.
"Hmph." Ferilla makes a soft little sound of annoyance as she's seemingly completely stiffed by the vixen. She can understand focusing on a mark, she really can, but that was a bit rude, she thinks. But it wasn't her job to make friends here. She taps the newly acquired bags of powder at her belt, taking a step towards Bafaloukos, walking down the aisle of stalls, glancing side to side with even less interest than before, taking a few seconds to size Baf up as she approaches him.
She knows what she's doing. In this dim light, especially the low lighting of the lanterns, and with Bafa on her right, this vixen's good side is facing him. The silhouette of the ash and russet creature outlined in her fur, the wolf-skull fiercely opening its jaws along her neck and muzzle... it may just be too much for him. But Kevi will give credit and all benefit of doubt, and she has other tricks up her sleeves. She just left her sleeves at home today. The vixen is well within earshot, though she waits until the rats are looking as well, at least a brief lull, "You may have seen my scars, and if you're staring expecting me to turn and face you, I won't out of principle. Not unless you promise to look at both of my eyes."
Soon the other is on the move as well, but Bafaloukos has to ignore the jill for now. Both rats turn when Kevi speaks, plainly confused by the barking, burned fox. "Wha'?" they gulp in unison, jaws hung slack with wine and wonderment. The fox slaps one of them on the back of his head, then the other. "Didn't ye' hear my little cousin, boys? She's not keen on your oglin'. It ain't mannerly." He gives the vixen a broad grin. "Sorry, love. They forget 'emselves sometimes."
Seeing as it seems like she's suitably ignored, Ferilla pads over to a darkened stall, everything closed up for the night. Hauling herself up into the shadows of the tabletop, she settles into a seated position, crossing her legs and placing her sword across her thighs for comfort. From one thief to another, it's clear to the ermine that Kevi is working the fox, and she's just curious to see how she operates, with nowhere else to be right now. Certainly not back at the bolthole with that insufferable little rat. Her features are impassive, a little cold, her violet eyes glinting in the lamplight as she watches.
A grin forms on the otherwise pretty vixen's features, as she turns just her head to stare into twin golden orbs. Whoa. She quickly recovers, her smile turning to slight disgust as she narrows her eyes, "I was talking about you, /cousin/. And you don't look so much like me that I would recognize you from a get together of the extended family. You have more... red... in you, I'm thinking. Hm... perhaps in more ways than one." She eyes the wine. "Enjoying yourself and these two fine gentlemen, or did I accurately pick up a note of apathy in that no-so-subtle dazed look you were giving me?" She walks boldly toward him, staring him down, "Paraskevi. And you?"
Bafaloukos holds his composure as Kevi dives toward them. He waits patiently as she rants, commiserating with the occasional nod or, when she brings up his wine, a wink and sip. The rats are dumfounded by her maneuver; Bafaloukos, however, is not. No stranger to dark markets or strange women, Kevi's show is only somewhat more amusing than the rats' inebriated yarn. "Does it matter?" he asks, weirdly. Pausing to let that land, Bafaloukos lifts his weight from the pole. Upright, he proves to be a big fox; not overly thick, but taller than most. "Asger," he says, placing a palm on one rat's shoulder. A nod made to the other. "That's his brother Ralf. They were just tellin' me of this nice spot they like to go in the orchards when the moon's full like tonight."
Laughter erupts from the vixen, her paws folding in front of her, "Aw, cute. You were watching me farther back than I thought. You think I'm here merely to slip through you to your possessions, the assumption being you have anything of material value to me. Certainly a couple of rats' names mean even less." She sighs, dropping her paws to her side, one arm leaning on the tentpole the male was just leaning against, "Though, it is quite odd and at the same time amusing that you interest yourself in the romantic ventures of a few handsome rats. I wonder if the three of us should just leave you here to stare off into an empty market. What do you lads say?"
The ermine girl's head dips back, resting against the painted sign of the stall. Under her serene surface, she's getting a little agitated. Ugh. This was supposed to be interesting. She feels cheated. Her claws tap against the leather wrapped sheath of her sword impatiently.
Both Asger and Ralf bob their heads with spellbound enthusiasm. Emboldened by the vixen's proposition, they tell Bafaloukos that he has "lost his chance" and that some day he will learn to woo women as well as they. The tod wears a lopsided smile as he turns from their impending misfortune. "Empty?" he asks, lamplight shining in his gold eyes as he searches the stalls, one by one, for the shape of an ermine. "Love, the night is young." There is music now, and more laughter. Somebody hocks fortunes. Amid a group of drunks, a gypsy newt breathes fire and dances in flowing skirts. "Where'd that friend of yours go, love?"
"It surely is. You'll get your chance I'm sure--perhaps these two will wake up from our evening of further carousing and storytelling to need you in some capacity or another. Then perhaps I'll stumble upon you again in the valiant act of charitable giving, welcoming them back and accepting their apologies for suffering their disloyalties." She puts her paws around both, the one on her left looking moderately more dissatisfied than the one on the right. "I'm sure you'll have something for me then, too, besides some silly apathetic stare and a poor fox's idea of romance. Until then." She exits with the rats, who will no doubt wake up without a single coin or possession."Oh, and... she's around here somewhere--why don't you rove those pretty golden eyes around and find her. Shouldn't be too hard," she adds, turning the good side of her face back toward him.
The todd's success in his search depends largely on how adjusted his eyes are to the darkness. The ermine's black leggings and dark jacket blend well with the darkened stall, almost merging with the greyed wooden planks. There is, however, a large patch of white fur showing, from her neck down to the opening of her shirt. That would draw the most attention. She's sitting in a reclined position, legs crossed casually. She watches Baf, just waiting for him to make eye contact. She watches the other fox depart, and while she didn't hear the specifics, she can imply what's going down. A different type of robbery than she was expecting, to be certain, but interesting, none the less.
After the vixen and her new rat pals depart, Bafaloukos begins to stroll in the direction he last saw the ermine go. Wine dribbles from the mug he limply holds in one hand, while the other has traveled to the grip of a sword slung at his waist. He whistles along with the music of nearby revelers as he walks. Bafaloukos stops directly in front of Ferilla, but does not turn to look at her: etiquette, in case she is avoiding someone other than him. "Strange to see an ermine in this part of the forest," he says, albeit to nobody particular.
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