Pirate Trader.
Saturday, 18 February 2012 18:00![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
flint_garouSo what's the news, galliard?
18 February, 2012
The moon is in the waning Crescent (Theurge) Moon phase (23% full).
"Gracias," Nieve nods, comfortably enflopped on one of the chairs. "S'true. Always better t'be too polite than not enough, s'a lesson I could'a used as a cliath," she adds with a rueful grin. "Ahwell. S'what you get for bein' raised by Gnawers initially. How's shit in the city, anyhow? Cockroach strong an' healthy here, I heard?"
The door from the stairwell opens then, admitting a slight twig of a teenager into the lobby. Flint looks first to Devon, then Nieve, offering the both of them a nod. "Hi, Devon-rhya," he says, a hint of a tentative note in the boy's voice. "An' hi," is offered at Nieve with a slightly deeper nod.
"Cockroach's good and strong," Devon says. He sinks into his chair, slouched as ever. "Some things going on, but I'm not sure on how much of it's trouble." He pauses when Flint enters, brows lifting when he looks at the cub. "'Sup, Flint."
"Hola," Nieve greets the arriving cub with a cheerful smile and finger-wiggle, though her attention returns to Devon shortly after. "Trouble is as trouble does—who should I talk to in order t'get the scoop on things here? Spirits gossip like fuckin' hell, but they ain't always so correct."
"Not so much," Flint half-mutters. "Came down to check on laundry." A half a beat of pause. "Either've you want coffee while I'm at it? Was going to make some." Hands shove into the pockets of the sweatpants he's currently wearing, and the boy turns to Nieve to introduce himself. "Flint," with a sheepish smile since he's already been addressed, "Takes-It-All-In-Stride, galliard cub. Glass Walker."
"Mouse'll be able to get you up to speed," Devon explains with a grin. "She's the elder." To Flint, he shakes his head. "Thanks, no. Don't need any more coffee myself."
"Nieve Martinez, also called Pirate Trader. Glass Walker Theurge, ranked Adren," the dreadlocked woman responds to Flint, nodding to his introduction. "Galliard? Maybe you'll be able to tell me some stories of the goin's-on here," she remarks, then turns her gaze back to Devon. "Si, I'll be sure t'check in with her."
The boy disappears into the laundry room after a brief grin to Nieve, and with the sounds of fussing about setting up water on the hotplate, before he emerges and leans on the doorframe. "Clothes not dry yet," he says, grinning. "Not that I thought it would be, but."
Devon nods to Nieve. "Yeah, she'll probably be checking up on you anyway. Standard procedure." He shrugs a little and looks over at Flint again. "Gonna loom or you want to come sit and join us?"
"So, how many've us are there here?" Nieve wonders, rubbing a hand over her cheek and idly toying with her lip-ring, sounding thoughtful. "An' is there somewhere I can crash for a couple days while I sort shit out with the Alpha an' Guardians an' all that jazz?"
Flint nods at Devon. "Alright," the boy says, moving over to take up the corner of one of the couches, still almost shrinking into it with a glance towards the Ahroun. "'Least until the water for coffee's up and my clothes're dry."
"Sure," Devon says with a shrug. "Mouse'll want to meet you before setting you up upstairs," he says, apologetically, to Nieve. "I think the basement apartment'd be fine. No one's using it right now. And I'll give her your number so she can reach you if you're out."
"I don't wanna put anyone out," Nieve ventures. "Just, a bit short of cash right now. S'there a more communal area that ain't gonna need t'wait on me checkin' in with an elder? Just for a couple days until things get sorted."
Flint falls quiet as the two speak, though there's a faint hum of an old ballad of one of the city septs, with the faint hint that the boy might really be trying to figure out the tune rather than actually knowing it already.
"Basement apartment," Devon offers again. "No one's using it. There's a house out in the woodsy parts, south of Kent Crossing. Everyone calls it Edgewood. Owned by the Get, but open to Sept members and guests if that's more your liking."
The Theurge rakes a hand back through her dreadlocks, some of the metal charms twisting and catching the light as she does so. "Okay. If you're sure that ain't gonna piss anyone off," she affirms then with a nod. "Saves me movin' anywhere else. Thanks."
Flint grins to Nieve. "Not gonna piss anyone off, Nieve-rhya," the boy affirms. "Least, I don' think so." A glance is angled to Devon for confirmation of this. "Sometimes people go down there or stuff, but. Not when there's someone staying there."
"Shouldn't be a problem," Devon says with a grin. "Besides, my call, my responsibility. Don't worry about it."
"Sure thing," Nieve nods. "So… uh." She seems to be out of questions for now, considering the pair of other Walkers with a thoughtful eye. "Any consoles in this place? I could kill for a couple rounds of Street Fighter."
"Upstairs," Flint responds with a bit of apologeticness in his tone, before there is a sharp whistling from the laundry room. "Coffee," he says by way of excusing himself as he pushes to his feet again. "Because, I do need more coffee." The cub offers Devon a grin as he moves over and disappears back into the laundry room.
"Upstairs," Devon says, cringing. "Uh… I'll see what I can do to shake someone with more authority than me out of the woodwork." He stands and heads for the stairwell. "Make yourself at home, Flint can show you the laundry and basement." All is explained before he goes into the stairwell and upstairs, calling that he'll find someone.
"Ahwell. I'll just pretend I'm playin' it," Nieve voices regretfully. "Can y'fix me a coffee as well, Flint?" she asks the cub. "S'better'n nothin', though it won't have any awesome combo moves or nothin'." She rises to follow him through.
Flint grins as he turns to nod. "Sure," he says, maybe a little more relaxed when the Ahroun has gone off. On the kitchenette side of the laundry room, the boy takes out two cup, various things for coffee, pouring each cup in turn and then offering one out to Nieve. "Sugar or anything?" A gesture is made to where the cub has those out.
"Nah, I'm sweet enough," Nieve replies, taking the mug undoctored. "So, what's the news, Galliard? Surely y'got somethin' you can pass on t'me? Somethin' interestin', maybe a story or…?"
Flint peels back one of the packets of creamer, pouring it into the cup and wrapping his hands around it to lift it and take a long sip. "'course I can," the boy responds, before beginning first, to tell the elder Glass Walker of Mouse challenging Elliot for Athro, and the terms, and then of the rite in which they put the caern to sleep. Sometimes, the boy hums, half underneath his speaking, continuing with only occasional hesitation.
"Huh. Puttin' a Caern to sleep is serious business," Nieve observes. "Well told, though. Y'teacher in storytellin' must be proud've you," she adds pleasantly. "Got long t'go until y'ready for bein' Rited?" she wonders then.
Flint smiles a bit, ducking a nod of thanks before turning his head down further to drink his coffee. "Dunno," though that doesn't seem to bother him. "When I'm ready, I'm sure." Weird, definite certainty there. Not at all cub-like.
"So the basement, which door is it?" Nieve checks, taking her coffee and beginning to poke around to find it.
18 February, 2012
The moon is in the waning Crescent (Theurge) Moon phase (23% full).
"Gracias," Nieve nods, comfortably enflopped on one of the chairs. "S'true. Always better t'be too polite than not enough, s'a lesson I could'a used as a cliath," she adds with a rueful grin. "Ahwell. S'what you get for bein' raised by Gnawers initially. How's shit in the city, anyhow? Cockroach strong an' healthy here, I heard?"
The door from the stairwell opens then, admitting a slight twig of a teenager into the lobby. Flint looks first to Devon, then Nieve, offering the both of them a nod. "Hi, Devon-rhya," he says, a hint of a tentative note in the boy's voice. "An' hi," is offered at Nieve with a slightly deeper nod.
"Cockroach's good and strong," Devon says. He sinks into his chair, slouched as ever. "Some things going on, but I'm not sure on how much of it's trouble." He pauses when Flint enters, brows lifting when he looks at the cub. "'Sup, Flint."
"Hola," Nieve greets the arriving cub with a cheerful smile and finger-wiggle, though her attention returns to Devon shortly after. "Trouble is as trouble does—who should I talk to in order t'get the scoop on things here? Spirits gossip like fuckin' hell, but they ain't always so correct."
"Not so much," Flint half-mutters. "Came down to check on laundry." A half a beat of pause. "Either've you want coffee while I'm at it? Was going to make some." Hands shove into the pockets of the sweatpants he's currently wearing, and the boy turns to Nieve to introduce himself. "Flint," with a sheepish smile since he's already been addressed, "Takes-It-All-In-Stride, galliard cub. Glass Walker."
"Mouse'll be able to get you up to speed," Devon explains with a grin. "She's the elder." To Flint, he shakes his head. "Thanks, no. Don't need any more coffee myself."
"Nieve Martinez, also called Pirate Trader. Glass Walker Theurge, ranked Adren," the dreadlocked woman responds to Flint, nodding to his introduction. "Galliard? Maybe you'll be able to tell me some stories of the goin's-on here," she remarks, then turns her gaze back to Devon. "Si, I'll be sure t'check in with her."
The boy disappears into the laundry room after a brief grin to Nieve, and with the sounds of fussing about setting up water on the hotplate, before he emerges and leans on the doorframe. "Clothes not dry yet," he says, grinning. "Not that I thought it would be, but."
Devon nods to Nieve. "Yeah, she'll probably be checking up on you anyway. Standard procedure." He shrugs a little and looks over at Flint again. "Gonna loom or you want to come sit and join us?"
"So, how many've us are there here?" Nieve wonders, rubbing a hand over her cheek and idly toying with her lip-ring, sounding thoughtful. "An' is there somewhere I can crash for a couple days while I sort shit out with the Alpha an' Guardians an' all that jazz?"
Flint nods at Devon. "Alright," the boy says, moving over to take up the corner of one of the couches, still almost shrinking into it with a glance towards the Ahroun. "'Least until the water for coffee's up and my clothes're dry."
"Sure," Devon says with a shrug. "Mouse'll want to meet you before setting you up upstairs," he says, apologetically, to Nieve. "I think the basement apartment'd be fine. No one's using it right now. And I'll give her your number so she can reach you if you're out."
"I don't wanna put anyone out," Nieve ventures. "Just, a bit short of cash right now. S'there a more communal area that ain't gonna need t'wait on me checkin' in with an elder? Just for a couple days until things get sorted."
Flint falls quiet as the two speak, though there's a faint hum of an old ballad of one of the city septs, with the faint hint that the boy might really be trying to figure out the tune rather than actually knowing it already.
"Basement apartment," Devon offers again. "No one's using it. There's a house out in the woodsy parts, south of Kent Crossing. Everyone calls it Edgewood. Owned by the Get, but open to Sept members and guests if that's more your liking."
The Theurge rakes a hand back through her dreadlocks, some of the metal charms twisting and catching the light as she does so. "Okay. If you're sure that ain't gonna piss anyone off," she affirms then with a nod. "Saves me movin' anywhere else. Thanks."
Flint grins to Nieve. "Not gonna piss anyone off, Nieve-rhya," the boy affirms. "Least, I don' think so." A glance is angled to Devon for confirmation of this. "Sometimes people go down there or stuff, but. Not when there's someone staying there."
"Shouldn't be a problem," Devon says with a grin. "Besides, my call, my responsibility. Don't worry about it."
"Sure thing," Nieve nods. "So… uh." She seems to be out of questions for now, considering the pair of other Walkers with a thoughtful eye. "Any consoles in this place? I could kill for a couple rounds of Street Fighter."
"Upstairs," Flint responds with a bit of apologeticness in his tone, before there is a sharp whistling from the laundry room. "Coffee," he says by way of excusing himself as he pushes to his feet again. "Because, I do need more coffee." The cub offers Devon a grin as he moves over and disappears back into the laundry room.
"Upstairs," Devon says, cringing. "Uh… I'll see what I can do to shake someone with more authority than me out of the woodwork." He stands and heads for the stairwell. "Make yourself at home, Flint can show you the laundry and basement." All is explained before he goes into the stairwell and upstairs, calling that he'll find someone.
"Ahwell. I'll just pretend I'm playin' it," Nieve voices regretfully. "Can y'fix me a coffee as well, Flint?" she asks the cub. "S'better'n nothin', though it won't have any awesome combo moves or nothin'." She rises to follow him through.
Flint grins as he turns to nod. "Sure," he says, maybe a little more relaxed when the Ahroun has gone off. On the kitchenette side of the laundry room, the boy takes out two cup, various things for coffee, pouring each cup in turn and then offering one out to Nieve. "Sugar or anything?" A gesture is made to where the cub has those out.
"Nah, I'm sweet enough," Nieve replies, taking the mug undoctored. "So, what's the news, Galliard? Surely y'got somethin' you can pass on t'me? Somethin' interestin', maybe a story or…?"
Flint peels back one of the packets of creamer, pouring it into the cup and wrapping his hands around it to lift it and take a long sip. "'course I can," the boy responds, before beginning first, to tell the elder Glass Walker of Mouse challenging Elliot for Athro, and the terms, and then of the rite in which they put the caern to sleep. Sometimes, the boy hums, half underneath his speaking, continuing with only occasional hesitation.
"Huh. Puttin' a Caern to sleep is serious business," Nieve observes. "Well told, though. Y'teacher in storytellin' must be proud've you," she adds pleasantly. "Got long t'go until y'ready for bein' Rited?" she wonders then.
Flint smiles a bit, ducking a nod of thanks before turning his head down further to drink his coffee. "Dunno," though that doesn't seem to bother him. "When I'm ready, I'm sure." Weird, definite certainty there. Not at all cub-like.
"So the basement, which door is it?" Nieve checks, taking her coffee and beginning to poke around to find it.