Bordering On Brokering

[FennWenn]

Closed to Nevfriend and Sketchy!

Radasanth! The city of trade. The city of the Citadel.

The city of Fenn’s favorite black market.

As was typical of his voyages into the city, the little fae was here to sell. Wandering deep into the seedy underbelly of the sprawling city-state, Fenn skipped from street to darkened street with the sort of cheerfulness that typically came with gaining shiny coins in dirty ways; hooray for thieving fingers and unaware passerby! Already he had pawned off a few easier items -- some broken rings, some rusted necklaces. There was a suspect jewelry shop that took those sorts of things and melted them down for scrap metal. Now, all he had left to pawn off was… well. The one item he snagged from the funny shop that had gotten rid of Daugi’s fleas and almost hallucination-drug’d him to death. Fenn wasn’t really sure what this potion was.

Wouldn’t stop him from selling it though.

The folds of his cloak formed a nice barrier between his skin and the glass; it was best that he didn’t freeze the potion inside before he tried selling it, probably. It was this pretty indigo colored liquid, all shiny-clear and bright-like. Not warm magic-brightness though, just ordinary shininess. He guessed this was just some ordinary remedy Nevin hadn’t needed to put any magic into. Since he hadn’t understood the handwriting on the label, Fenn had just kind of… peeled it off. Who knew what it actually did now? As far as Fenn’s coin-hungry satchel was concerned, this was now some fantastic magical panacea he could sell to some unsuspecting non-magic-sensing sucker. Ordinary stuff didn’t sell half as well as the fantastic did on the black market.

Soon enough, Fenn came upon a squat paint-peeled building with a rough sign outside bearibg the word “SHOP” and nothibg else. The door groaned as Fenn pushed it open. Inside the dim space, lit by the unwashed windows and a weak candle lantern, were several splintery crates that formed a rough counter-ish surface. A scruffy dude with a long beard and stupidly mismatched clothes snored with his head on this makeshift counter. Scrounger Scourge was a guy who you could sell stuff to straight-up, and he would resell the items to shops he knew would accept them. He didn’t exactly pay top dollar. However, he was a safe place to pawn off the most suspicious of stolen stuff. That, and he wasn’t too bright. Fenn sighed and set his potion down on the crate-counter with a resounded clonk. The doozing man woke with a start.

“Wha- oh. ‘S you. Ey. Welcome back, ‘lil puck,” Scourge muttered, his voice groggy as he wiped the drool off his lips. “Whatcha got for me this time?”

Fenn tapped the counter, sending a quick spray of frost across the wood. UNICORN BLOOD, he scribbled in the ice crystals.

“Th’ fuck kid?”

IT LIKE YOUR LIFE-NESS. MAKE MORE ENERGETIC. Fenn’s grin widened in a way most unnatural. HOW YOU THINK I STAY YOUNG? MAGIC. EXTRA BOTTLE, YOU HAVE SELL FOR MUCH MONEY.

Scourge smacked his lips tiredly and picked up the potion for a closer look. “Really? How d’ya even get this stuff? Like, you kill a unicorn and bleed it out or something..?”

Fenn shook his head. SECRET. VERY RARE. HOW MUCH MONEY YOU PAY?

The merchant seemed… almost convinced! Again, Scourge was not the sharpest sword in the armory. His brows furrowed together thoughtfully. “Gee. Lemme think it over a squinch.”

[Nevin]

Nevin was walking down the back streets of Radasanth, making sure there were no other traces of the corrupt version of the Church of the Crimson hiding anywhere in the city. He was also checking out the sights, familiarizing himself with the new city that he seemed to be spending and unexpected amount of time in. It was down one of these back roads that he saw someone that looked familiar and he frowned before heading after them.

There was no reason for the boy to be here in the city, but that had definitely looked like Fenn from what he had seen, the off-colored skin and the blonde hair were fairly distinctive. Nevin was just thankful that there was no sign of the massive direwolf that accompanied the Fae - the beast would have caused a mass panic here in the city.

Still he was curious as to what the frozen Fae was doing here in Radasanth, especially in the disreputable portion of town. Hopefully the boy wasn't pursuing a source of the numbing agent to use it to get high again - while the thing normally wasn't addictive, Nevin had already learned that it had a different reaction for the small blonde.

So after him he went, and trailing the Fae as he made his way with a disturbing amount of purpose. Whatever Fenn was here for, he had obviously been here before. Cobalt take it, had the boy actually gotten addicted? If he had that would be a problem - other than taking the boy in and watching over him to make sure he had no access to the chemical, Nevin had no idea how he'd approach getting the boy past the addiction.

So when Fenn headed into one store, Nevin slipped in quietly behind the blonde, taking a moment to let his eyes adjust to the interior lighting of the place. When he could see clearly, his eyebrows rose to his hairline. The Fae child was quickly jotting words down on the counter, trying to sell the man a lavender potion - a potion Nevin recognized as one that had gone missing from his store. So that's where it had gotten to.

He stepped up silently behind Fenn, the old child focused on trying to pawn off the lavender potion. The other adult's eyes flicked to him for a moment before back down to what the Fae was writing, apparently dismissing him out of hand. That is, until Nevin cleared his throat loudly above the blonde's head.

"In actuality, good air, the potion is one I designed that is meant for medicating an individual who is suffering from distress of the stomach." The man looked at Nevin with a confused expression, and Nevin sighed. "It helps with the runs."

[The Crooked Knight]

Sketch was walking down the back streets of Radasanth, trying to walk off a large meal. The dark haired man was used to feeling overly full for an hour or so after sating his hunger, and then suddenly, feeling famished again regardless of how much he'd eaten before. It was strange, he usually ate three or four full servings of food and yet he was massively under weight, as if the food just went into a void in his stomach.

As the feeling of being over full left him, he straightened up his suit jacket, and tightened his tie. He'd originally came to Radasanth to search for a weapons instructor with a friend of his named Nevin, and had run into him several days earlier.

As he walked down a back alley, he caught a flash of red hair out of the corner of his eye. He ran, trying to catch up to Nevin, as he saw that the alchemist followed a blonde child himself. Nevin's eyes didn't look happy while he followed the boy, and Sketch wondered what had taken place with the two of them. Normally Sketch would have rushed to a child's aide, but he trusted Nevin as a judge of character, so Sketch just followed from a distance.

The boy walked in to the shop, and Nevin followed in after him. Sketch didn't like the look of the shop, it seemed dirty and seedy, unsafe. What could possess a child to go to this part of the town where they could be hurt? He hoped that Nevin was here to help the small child, and if that was the case, then Sketch would back him up. He grinned at the thought of taking on a group of thugs with his friend near by backing him up.

He walked in behind the alchemist, hearing him say that something the boy was trying to sell was actually made by Nevin as a digestive. Stealing- the small boy was a thief. Sketch's heart broke at the thought of a child resorting to such lengths to survive. He stepped into the shop's lobby, right next to Nevin. "Young man, I know your life's been hard, but you can't resort to stealing. What if the potion that you took was meant for someone specific? What if they're lives depended on the very drink you stole? You don't seem like a bad child, and I think you just made a bad choice, I'm sure that if you apologized to Mr.Nevin, he'd be more than happy to buy you a nice warm dinner. Right Nevin?"

Sketch was sure that his appearance would startle the both of them, but he wasn't going to let a child stray down a dark path if he could avoid it. Nevin was a good man, and he knew that he wouldn't hurt a child, but maybe if the two men had the chance, they could talk some sense into the boy to change his life for the better. After all, what was the point of stories if they didn't help people learn right from wrong?

[FennWenn]

If Fenn had been a cat, his fur would’ve stood on end.

Standing behind him in the flesh was the red-headed alchemist himself -- with significantly less hair than usual. Yet, nonetheless, it was him. What by Banrion’s damn divinity was Nevin doing in Radasanth? No! He lived in Stonevale. Fenn lived everywhere. He felt moderately offended that the alchemist had barged out of Stonevale to invade the everywhere where Fenn was — and for no other reason to call the boy’s bluff. Yikes. An grey flush tinged his skin, and he puffed out his cheeks in pure irritation.

NO, NO NO, Fenn wrote stubbornly as his stomach did flip-flops pure panic. He could practically feel the potential money draining out of his hands. UNICORN BLOOD, VERY REAL DEAL. GOOD FOR BITALITY.

“Sir, this child is lying. This is a simple digestive aid. It isn’t ‘unicorn blood’, and it doesn’t restore ‘bitality’ — whatever that is.”

MISPELL. VITALITY. He was too taken aback to keep his letters straight.

Nevin sighed, looking faintly as if he had a headache coming on. “That doesn’t negate the fact that you are lying. I would know, I made that potion.”

As the scruffy trader glanced confusedly between both arguers, he scratched his beard and shook his head. “Aye, sorry kid, but if ‘taint th’ real thing you claim, I don’t think I’ll buy,” Scourge said warily, setting the potion down. “Don’t like it when these sorta disputes come up. Can’t do.”

Fenn’s jaw dropped in disbelief. But- how- what? His most intimidating glare was shot Nevin’s way. The alchemist didn’t seem all that frightened. Worse, before he could find some better way to make his wrath known, the situation became slightly more bizarre.

The boy nearly jumped out of his skin as someone new pushed the door open and stepped up next to Nevin as if they were old chums — probably, they were. Tall and lean, darkly green-eyed, but not mean. Normally, Fenn might have taken a liking to someone with such geniality. It matched his usual state of enthusiasm, certainly. What came out of beanpole’s mouth rather ruined that though. A lecture on stealing? The boy listened with a distinctly blank look on his face, all interest wiped off clean. Ho-hum. As if Fenn hadn’t heard all the different iterations of “thieving bad, don’t do”. Yes he did have to steal to survive… but he also kind of stole a lot more than he strictly needed to get by. There was a rush to it. Who could blame him? Shiny objects were mesmerizing, and anyone who let their guard down around goodies was begging to have their loot liberated. No other trade was half as exciting. Well, but for treasure hunting. And that was basically stealing from dead folk, wasn’t it?

The real question was, should he stick around for the promise of a free meal?

Fenn picked up the potion through the folds of his cloak and sighed. It wasn’t as if he were going get this sold now anyway. With the sweetest, eyelash-batting smile he had, he offered up the sloshy bottle of liquid up for Nevin to take. With his other frosty hand, he scribbled on the counter. SORRY. BAD FENN. SUCH REGRET. DINNER NICE; YAY NO NEED TO THIEF. ALL SOLVED! If his kiddy cherub face could get him out of trouble, then Fenn supposed it wouldn’t hurt to turn up the charm a bit. If not for Nevin’s sake — he already knew the truth — then to quiet beanpole’s dramatic lecturing.

[Nevin]

Nevin blinked slowly, his eyes drifting between the boy, the scruffy looking fellow behind the counter, and his acquaintance who apparently was practicing to be a ninja before he lifted one hand up to rub the bridge of his nose, trying to dispelled the mild headache that was threatening to build up there.

Somehow, coming back here to make sure the Fae wasn't addicted had spiraled wildly out of control - and he had caught the flash of irritation and the roll of the eyes as Sketch spoke, and he decided to head that off at the pass before anything got worse because of it. He cleared his throat, shaking his head.

"That was not and indeed is not my issue. While yes, I would prefer I was not the target, thievery is as much a profession as many others. I raised an objection for one reason alone - I made the potion and I do not like seeing my wares misrepresented. Whole I don't have 'Unicorn Blood' I do have potions that are meant for vitality and vigor - if this was one of those, I would have gone along with the ruse. Now then - where shall we go to obtain food?" He had seen the way Fenn's eyes lit up at the offer of free food, and even if Sketch reneged on that, he felt he should treat the Fae, as he had cost the boy a sale.

He also wasn't about to give away the truth about the 'boy' and his age. And Fenn didn't seem to mind being mistaken for a child, or a human child at that. So in that regard, he would let sleeping direwolves lie.

[The Crooked Knight]

Sketch frowned at Nevin, “I have to disagree Nevin, taking from someone else isn’t profession, it’s a moral sickness. You build up karmic debt everytime you do something wrong, you know.”

Sketch tossled the blonde boy’s hair playfully, he could tell that the child wasn’t a bad kid, he just needed some direction. Fenn’s skin seemed cold to the touch, which wasn’t unusual he supposed, since he manifested frost to write. Sketch felt a since of accomplishment at having helped a child in need.

“Nevin, the poor boy is freezing, let’s find something warm and spicy to help take the chill off. The cafe around the corner makes the best spicy pepper and sausage stew. We’ll get that with a mug of warm cinnamon apple cider. That’ll be the perfect thing, I feel.” Sketch whispered to Nevin, beeming at the prospect of helping the pale young man get a nourishing meal, he’d read that spicy food was good for blood circulation.

The tall man opened the door and waited for the pair to follow, hoping that the boy would change for the better. Once they got outside, Sketch pointed in the direction of the cafe, hoping to get the group there without anymore involvement with the seedy element of this part of town. After a few minutes, they’d cornered the block and the cafe was in view.

The group sat down and Sketch motioned for the other pair to find a seat and he’d get the food. He walked over to the hostess and said to her in his rich voice, “I’d like to order 6 of the specials please, four would be for me, and the last two for my friends. Send over a few mugs of the cider if you would please.” He paid the lady, and walked over to his friends and sat down.

[FennWenn]

Since Nevin hadn’t taken back the potion, it found its way back into Fenn’s bag. If thievery was a moral sickness, then the little fae probably had moral leprosy. Maybe that was why bad shit was alwa- ooooh, these forks were shiny. Gingerly, Fenn prodded the shiny silverware. A slight, searing sting greeted him, as if he had brushed his hands over a hot stove. He snatched his fingers back immediately and hissed softly at the obviously iron-wrought cutlery.

Inconsiderate human venues...

Derived of a shiny to distract himself with, (or slip into his bag,) the boy fidgeted in his seat. It was warm and cozy in here; this cafe, a good spot on an otherwise blighted area. Fenn suspected it was one of those venues that was too good to mess with. As such, obtaining food from here was guaranteed to be great. Lost in his own thoughts, the boy missed half of what beanpole was blathering about — except for the end of his order, that was. A puckered frown pinched Fenn’s face. How come beanpole got four whole things of food, and he only got one? Unfair! He was a growing boy— er well, perhaps not either of those things, but definitely a hungry imp. The imp decided against registering a written complaint though. At least he wasn’t paying for the one platter he was getting.

Though, since he was sitting by a flat surface now, he actually could join in the pre-meal conversation. There wasn’t much else to do until the whatever-beanpole-ordered arrived.

WHY THIEF BAD, BEANPOLE MAN? Fenn noted with a huff, writing in a dapple of frost he had made on the tabletop. WHAT IF THIEF TAKE FROM WORSE PEOPLE? NOBLE PROFESSION! LIBERATE THE OBJECTS!

To Nevin, he directed; WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN THE EVERYWHERE?

“Excuse me?”

OUTSIDE STONEVALE. YOU ARE IN MY EVERYWHERE. And, judging from his squinty stare, the young puck was displeased by this. Highly displeased. People belonged where they lived so that Fenn could do the unexpected visiting, thank you very much!

[Nevin]

Karmic debt was a disgusting idea to Nevin, in a way his face took on a distinctly displeased expression for a moment when Sketch mentioned it, though he swallowed the response he wanted to eject there. The world was very much not interested in an sort of balance - rights and wrongs were balanced by the people involved, not some supernatural force that oversaw things. If there was such a force, surely it wouldn't let things like -

He shook his head sharply, instead biting his tongue. No need to get into that. Sketch would be convinced of what he was sure of, and there was no way of proving or disproving either point of view. No, for now the debate would stay locked up on his head. Instead he joined the other two - asking only for some sweet bread and water isn't wad of the food that Sketch was ordering and folded himself into a chair.

When Fenn brought up the stealing from 'worse people' Nevin did raise an eyebrow and interject. "He has a point there my friend. Do your own tales not contain stories of noble rogues trying to help others? Simply labeling all thievery as a moral sickness is remarkably narrow-minded of an orator such as yourself." It was as their food was arriving that he noticed that Fenn had asked him a question, and after the clarification he raised an eyebrow and folded his arms across his chest.

"I am an explorer, Fenn. While I do maintain a semi-permanent place of business, that is to an extent merely for the sake of convenience. I do much of my work out in the field, exploring and discovering new things. Stonevale isn't even my home - merely where I live currently. I'm not from Stonevale, nor even Scara Brae or Corone itself." The alchemist took a sip of his water before tearing out some of the innards of the bread he had been brought.

[The Crooked Knight]

Sketch thought the boy’s question over for a few minutes. Eventually he spoke up, “Let me ask you, Fenn. In today’s situation, was Nevin a “bad guy”? Had he wronged you in anyway? From what I’d heard, he’d tried to help you when you’d gotten sick, correct? Eventually, stealing, even from bad people, grows into a habit that is hard to break. There are many stories about people going so far to punish people that they in turn become just as bad as the villains they set out to punish.”

“Please don’t think me harsh or judgemental, lad. I don’t mean to talk down to you, I just need you to know both that you are more than the situations in which you find yourself, and that how you act impacts others. You had no idea what that potion did correct? What if that man had bought that vial from you, but it was in fact something dangerous, like foxglove-it’s use can be medicinal in the right dosage, but lethal in large amounts. Now think forward a bit, if your shopkeeper friend managed to sell it as your “unicorn blood,” to someone who was trying to regain their vitality. Like an elderly person. That situation could easily have occured, or something like it.” Sketch gave a slight frown.

“You have a great amount of skill son, if you were able to take a bottle off of a shelf like that with no one noticing. But that skill needs to be tempered with wisdom. If this was some evil baron or a man who beat his wife on occasion, then you should use the gains you stole to help people rather than line your own pockets, or else your just doing it to help yourself, and no better than the person you stole it from.” Sketch nodded to Nevin, hoping that his statement would be an answer for Nevin too.

“Now, if it’s pranking, or mild mischief, that I can fully endorse. Just as long as no one could get seriously injured, that’s when I have to draw the line. And yes, that includes Nevin, as his potions are how he makes a living, and his reputation allows him to help innocent people.” Sketch tried to give a smile to let some of the tension ease in the conversation.

The waitress brought over the food, including Nevin’s sweet bread and water. Sketch looked to the boy and said “I have a situation where my body consumes more calories than normal, so I always order more than I need. Feel free to help yourself if you want any extra.” Sketch said and began to dig in.

[FennWenn]

Fenn… would have used the excuse of “oops, habit” if beanpole hadn’t already brought it up as an example of bad-ness if one were to steal too much or something. Instead, the young puck looked mildly uncomfortable, as if he were sitting on a bed full of nails. He didn’t like to think too hard about the theoretical consequences of his actions. That just made him frustrated and fraught with unwanted patches of ice.

OOP. VERY TRAGIC POSSIBILITIES. SO SORRY. LESSON LEARNED. NOT HAPPEN AGAIN, he wrote with a muffled snort, not sure how else to dismiss Beanpole’s words. How did he get trapped in this lecturing limbo again?

Oh, right. The promise of food.

Speaking of which, the waitress brought it over with a kindly wave. The boy’s ears pricked up at the sound of dishes clinking against tabletop. Finally! For Nevin, there was boring bread and some water. A sort of dark soupstuff and several mugs of mysterious cider were dropped before Fenn and the Beanpole man. Gleefully, two bowls of the soupstuff were stolen over to Fenn’s side of the table. His free hand tapped out a patch of frost for him to scrawl in. I CONSUME MUCH TOO. BEANPOLE NOT TELL NAME. TELL NAME, he wrote hurriedly. Ignoring the (stupid iron-wrought) utensils, the boy lifted one of the steaming bowls up to his face and took a gulp of his free meal. His bottomless stomach was met with…

...chili and sausage stew? Fenn gasped and put down his bowl as his mouth watered. Spicy! Spicy enough to melt the poor frostchild’s tongue, or at least that was what he made of the taste. He expressed this displeasure with one out of the two sounds he was capable of making.

“Hisssssssss!”

Immediately, he grabbed for his cider and took a swig. A swig which was just as quickly spat out in surprise, leaving a frozen patch of cider on the tabletop. Cinnamon? Who the hell thought it was a good idea to make drinks spicy? An ugly grimace came to the boy’s face as he sat, stunned, wondering how on Althanas he was supposed to put out this hellfire that danced over his tongue. There was just enough self control within the little fae to not pitch a complete fit about the sorry semi-painful state of his mouth. He did not, however, possess the same self control over his magic. As far as his magic was concerned, this was a fucking attack upon his tongue! A cold breeze fluttered about the fae, snowflakes flickering into existence. A thick sheen of frost built up on anything Fenn touched -- his seat, his section of the table, and his awful horrible no-good spicy surprise soup and cider. Possibly, it was spreading to the other’s parts of the table too, but the boy was not currently concerned with that.

If Fenn weren’t worried about giving his direwolf a taste for human flesh, he would’ve probably promised right then and there to let her gnaw up the bony Beanpole bastard if the two were ever within gumming distance.