Sing A Song Of Sixpence (My Pockets Are Rather Dry)

[Ruby]

Ruby waltzed into a second hand book store in the rather upmarket district of Salons with a grin on her face and amply lined pockets. She had every intention of spending her wares on the 'acquisition of a lifetime' as she called it, and she had been informed that this shop was the place to make such a barter and trade.

She was searching for books on the art of singing. This was not to suggest that she could not sing, her proficiency with the vocal arts was not in question, but a student remained eternally thus until such a time came that no books could be found she had not already read.

"Greetings," she introduced herself buoyantly to the shop-keep, "I am looking for tomes on vocal performance, arrangement, and the artistic portrayal of emotion behind ones words. Perhaps also a book or two on opera style and chords, I have to perform in front of the House this coming moon and I wish to ensure my standing to be a success!" She was almost certain the placement of her talent in the noble households would be lost on the man but she liked to keep up appearances all the same.

She of course did not mean simple, ordinary books. She could find those ten a penny at a flea market. She meant the sort of enchanted book that contained magical conversation and cantrips to truly gauge a woman's voice. It was why she was here, in this bookshop, and not in some slovenly merchant's bargaining over the price of mouldy tomes without spines, although she was more than used to dealing with such men.

[Taskmienster]

Dashing, daring, intriguing, these were all words that surrounded the flamboyant and often daring adventurer who had long since given up his sword and shield in favor of slow days behind a booth surrounded by books. Fitzgerald flipped the page of the most recent book he had acquired, reading it through and through before he was forced to put his first love on a shelf for passing visitors to buy at their leisure. It was a pity to watch some come into the small bookstore, treat the tomes as nothing more than objects filled with words, and buy them as if they were expendable. To Fitz, the entire reason that words were transferred to paper and passed down was to keep the vital memories of others alive. Though his steel sword, crested shield, and banded armor was collecting dust in the back room on a mannequin not a single book in the store was allowed to collect even a fleck of dust.

When the door swung open, and the small silver bell chimed to alert him, Fitzgerald was halfway through a paragraph on the metaphysical nature of magic. It was an intriguing subject, but not one for light reading during daytime hours. He looked up towards the woman, half-listening to what she had to say, half thinking about what he had just read.

“Dear woman, by the gods V’dralla’s gentle touch has chanced upon you. The legends of the gods fair faces is one thing, but seeing a mortal with the soft features of the goddess of beauty is more than a treat.” Fitz nearly forgot what he was reading, letting his finger leave the middle of the paragraph in favor of a slim piece of random paper serving as a bookmark. He shut the large book with as much care as he would have given a newborn had he ever had the chance to marry. The fragile pages crinkled crisply as the heavy, leather bound cover came to rest.

“Books of song can offer much, but its specific books that you are going to seek more than anything. Tomes as you call them, though they are not as antiquated as the name implies. Some books, like those that I have in this store, are not just words written in common. They read in common speech, but there is magic behind the words.” The shop-keep lifted the end of the booth and glanced at the woman with a smirk. “I would assume you are looking for a book like that, with something more than simple words and flaking pages to guide you on your path?”

[Ruby]

The inner-sanctum of the book shop was no doubt well hidden from the scrupulous gaze of the everyday customer. It would be there that the true wealth of the business man’s empire would be protected, serviced and locked away. As Ruby listened to the man’s ample flattery she coyly smiled in the appropriate end stops between his words, watching him delicately flip the book to a close and proffer it as a sacrifice to her custom. The faint smell of damp and livery wrinkled her nose and she glanced about the shop to take in her surroundings. Very quickly her eyes glazed over, trying to read distant spines and section markers proving too difficult for her untrained eye; she was far too pretty to wear her glasses in public.

She coughed in a womanly manner and returned to the shop-keep with a clearing of the throat and an overly interested nod in response to his question.

“That is indeed the sort of book I am searching for, such books I have been trying to ascertain for several months. This has taken me to the churches of Salvar, the depths of Concordia and the black market dealers of Radasanth, but to no avail. Even the Scara Braen university holds nothing on spell singing or bardic empathy. So it is knowing I have the words of several recommendations that I come to you sir, and knowing that, I’d like to see all suitable books – however badly connected to the request they may be.”

She smiled even more coyly than she dared and wiped her lips with a handkerchief’d finger and a bob of the knees. “What do you possess to rile my interest, what do you hold on these shelves that could satisfy me more so than the University’s Great Library, or the knowledge of a thousand songs already rolling through the storm cloud in my mind?”

Although she would never admit it, beyond a blush or a quiver of the lip, Fitzgerald’s monetary inspired compliment had touched her in places she would happily be touched, even in public. Whilst she had never been easy, so to speak, she felt herself open to a little less bartering and more theological and empirical discussion on the nature of the books themselves. Heaven forbid, she grew rather fond of the idea of getting involved.

[Taskmienster]

Fitz listened to her words and tasted something on the air, something savory and delightful. It was the taste of desire; her words were laced with it. The delightful beauty was the demand that drove all merchants, all forms of open market economy, and the aging adventurer was the supplier that would benefit. It was not often that people found their way to his shop, its humble appearance dull compared to the swordsmith and the silversmith. There were no wares in his windows, but the keen eyed and the smart shoppers somehow found his shop every time.

“My lady,” he said with a flourishing bow and a flush of his draping cape. “You have come to the right place. I am Fitzgerald Trenton, grand adventurer of Corone, collector of ancient tomes and articles of magic intrigue. If you have come to find a person to rile your interests, you should have started closer to home. There is promise in traversing the world and seeking knowledge, but no place like home in the end.”

The shopkeeper gave her a wink and a sideways smile as he passed her. His hands passed over the bookshelves with an air of authority and unparalleled experience. Every book in the store had been scoured through at one point or another, and though he had no magic talent he could recognize the artifacts of the past that did. A prod with a finger here and there and memories of what book contained what flooded his mind. Every spine was like a fingerprint, he could remember the title of the book and its general content by touching each. Fitz gently removed three books, prying them by their fading spines with a genuine smile.

“Let me be the guidance of the lighthouse for your troubled mind, turn it into something more stable and organized.” He handed her one of the two books while cradling the other two in his slim arms back to the booth across the room. There were other books in the back, but finding them all would take some time, and each had its own price that he doubted the woman would be able to afford. “These are the first three books, the more common of those that I have safely cared for over the years. The one you have is “La Voce di Sogni” by the great performer Vincciano. It is a book on expression of voice through the use of tone of voice.”

Wizened and slim, the man smiled as he placed the other two books on the counter and turned to see his young patron’s expression. The book was the best of the rarities he had on the floor, a mix of opera and expression of voice. “It is not always the words spoken that reach to the heart. The way the words are delivered, as well as how they are accepted can touch the heart even if the language they are in is not understood. It is the art of opera.”

[Ruby]

Ruby took the book and ran her finger along the spine, reading it’s title aloud several times as if she were a stumbling fool, “La Voce di Sogni…Sogni…La Voce.” She flipped it open and mentally scanned a few lines, smiling at her luck; they contained not only direction, but diagrams and arrangements delicately scribed onto the paper – she could literally sing the tome to her heart’s content. “This is almost too perfect,” she slipped it onto the counter and patted it, mentally dedicating her to purchasing it regardless of the cost.

“Those other two, good Fitzgerald, what do they speak of? If you have come home from such adventures to teach others the wonders of the things you’ve seen then I am all ears to being such a witness; have you ever wandered into Raiaera perhaps? I hear the blade singers there are mighty indeed, they and I are alike in many ways.”

She chuckled, “except for the ears, of course.” Now that she thought about it and peered through The Aria's infinite creative quagmire, the name of the shop-keep began to ring a bell, although she could not place a finger on where it had cropped up before. Something about philan- and pists, or was it -derers?

“I suppose also we should discuss how much each is worth, and what your limitations are with regards to finance, options and the like – whilst I have assets to buy such wonders to further my talent I am not so eager to buy anything you suggest,” she lied, fluttering her lashes to hide it, “I see this tome is magical indeed, but how much is flattery worth, and how much do you believe in nurturing…talents,” she hiked her chest up and leant over the counter a little, not flirting as such, but certainly giving the man reason to take implications the wrong way.

[Taskmienster]

“Almost too perfect,” Fitz nearly brimmed with excitement. Almost too perfect always meant it was a sure purchase. It was gold in his pocket as soon as she had set it down. Bartering for the tome would be simple. He had paid nothing for it, much the same with any book in his small shop, so any gold made was gold earned. There were very few books he had paid for, they were never on display. He had hardly started reading those, but most of them he was unwilling to touch.

“These two, they are more fundamental books. Not as rare as the first, but by far not common. There are quite a few books regarding certain styles of song that I have around here. The first is for the lighter entertainer on the go, a book about the bard’s way of song. It can be powerful in its own rights. I’ve heard that assassins once used books based on that exact style to learn powerful magic’s created from song, turned their entertainment into bloody messes though.” Fitzgerald shook his head thoughtfully; it was as much a tale of the past as a truth of his history. The books that contained the real power about their works were journals and diaries kept by the troupe. Alongside a rather large collection of basic instruction and teachings they had been one of his grandest adventures. He coughed weakly to bring him back to the present.

“Surely, you are not interested in such tales of death and destruction with the use of spells though. The other came years later and is a study on the methods that the Rose Troupe had used when they practiced and developed new spells to sing and dance to. I’ve found it useful as a means for understanding the basis of how to develop new spells, though there is nothing about how to make such awful spells such as the ones they once used.”

Fitz looked down the woman to the counter, feigning interest in the book she had at her fingertips over the display of her natural talents. “I run a shop my dear, and though I would like to give away such useful books to so lovely a lady… I would be remiss if I did not make money to keep the shop running. I’ve always believed flattery is the highest form of compliments.” But it was not the way he would price his wares by any means. He failed to add it in, but assumed it was obvious enough. “The first tome is indeed magical in nature, and I could ask no less than three hundred gold for it. The others, though they are not as rare, are still uncommon in their own nature and how much they will assist you is by far worth fifty gold a piece…”

[Ruby]

Ruby listened to the man’s descriptions of the tomes and before he had even mentioned a price she had dealt her hand and brought the punishment her curiosity would bring. Leaning back from the counter with a smile and a cocked head, she smacked her lips and clapped her hands together in a coy display of ‘lady-like’ delight. It had been so long since she had played this role she was beginning to get paranoid she had let ruse slip. “I will take the first, the operatic book,” she glanced down at the book and fingered it’s spine with a delicate run of the mill seductive motion.

Pitch, vibrato, staccato, falsetto, all the little musical notions fluctuated around her mind and she was tantalised at the prospect of expandering her repertoire and in turn, she could teach the other members of the troupe the fundamentals; they could branch out to operatic comedy, and how the public would guffaw. For a while, she let Fitzgerald’s descriptions echo around the bridling stacks and the dusty shelves, hoping the anticipation of gold and greed was churning his stomach enough to make it worthwhile. She felt belittled again at his comment regarding death and destruction, but wasn’t going to jeopardise their rapport with snappy comebacks.

“Death, destruction, theatre and war, I’ve oft said they’re indistinguishable,” she caught a faint aroma of mildew and suspense and pointed to the second book, “I will consider that, and the third I will also be very much interested in purchasing. I will pay the price you ask on one condition. I am also looking for a first edition copy of a book called ‘ The Phoenix & The Bard, although I am not entirely convinced even your ample renown would have allowed you to acquire such a treasure.” There had only ever been five copies, one hand-written by the author, and four scribed copies he gave to the story’s principles characters. It was Lucian’s last opus to the world before his madness, and he had given one to Ruby, and to Duffy, and to Blank and Lilith…it was a comedy of errors, a tragic tale told, but each version had been different, somewhat personalised.

“I will return, sometime when it is appropriate for me to do so and escape my matriarchal duties,” she spoke whilst looking at Fitzgerald, but acquiring gold from her dress hem at the same time. “If you are fortunate enough to find one of the versions in the city, the Tantalum, and the House La Roux will be most grateful – I would hate,” she chose her words carefully, “that our own notoriety precedes itself, as much as yours does wherever adventure and intrigue go.” She fluttered her eyebrows, dropped the coin into her palm from her purse and waited expectantly for the washed up lethario to proffer her wares into a basket or satchel of some description. A cunning plan started to develop at the back of her mind.

A moment passed and she was forced to be uncouth, “ Looks like rain,” she muttered, her hands folded across her chest and black stilettos tap-tapping the polished veneer of the mahogany floorboards.

[Taskmienster]

Fitzgerald chuckled at the thought of such a beautiful woman retorting with such devious words. Ruby was a woman after his own heart; if not just one of the many he had encountered “after his own heart” over his long life. It was almost reassuring that the true nature of people could still be expressed by even the most gorgeous of individuals. “I must be honest,” the man said as he stood up. “That text is something that would be incredibly difficult to find. I’ve heard of it; do not get me wrong my reach is far. However, it’s something that’s basically limited to only a few people. No further information on it, as far as I know.”

A soft bag to put the books in, and the purchase was all set. “The Tantalum, of all people. No wonder she was sharp and quick. My life seems to be going in the wrong direction finally, and as old as I’m getting that’s the last thing I need.” He smiled courteously and lifted the small collection to the countertop for her.

“I will keep an eye out for what you requested,” he said as he opened his palm and placed it face up on the counter. “If I find it, which there is a great chance that I will not, I will contact House La Roux as soon as possible.”

[Ruby]

"Excellent," Ruby smiled, and opened her pert lips to reel out a line of the Conjuring Cantor she had prepared in her lungs. It had taken a long time to decide on appropriate lyrics, and she had no time or energy to spout out a full song in such slovenly company, but she tossed the coins in her hand to disguise the sound of the objects falling through the ether to join their bretheren.

The best things in life are free
But you can give them to the birds and bees
I want money
You love gives me such a thrill
But your love won’t pay my bills
I want money
Give me your money
Just give me money...*

The wisps of magic peeled away the tension in the air and Ruby held out the coin to Fitzgerald politely. She dropped it into his expectant hand and slipped the bag from the counter with a twist of her wrist and a twirl of her dress as she turned in a single motion to walk to the door.

She winked over her shoulder at him, and was gone with a tinkle of the doorbell and a brief rush of air and chatter from the busy streets beyond.



Attempting to conjure a few extra coins from The Aria via the Conjuring Cantor. Any that do appear, will of course disappear in short order...long enough for Ruby to have slipped into obscurity and back to her hovel, dignity relatively intact!

*Lyrics from Money, by the Flying Lizards.

[Taskmienster]

A keen eye watched the woman as she thoughtfully removed the coins from her purse. It had been quite some time since the last Fitz was forced to deal with such a beautiful woman and her wiles. He remembered back to Joline, a sweet girl with a tantalizing smile. She had conned him out of a good bit of money, and a large portion of his emotionally grand heart… not to mention any desires of the physical nature. Two years back she had tricked him, and a lesson had been learned at meager monetary but severe emotional cost: Women were not to be trusted.

“Thank you kindly, my dear,” he said as she dropped the coins. It was a wink and a smile that he gave to her, but a shrewd thought that made him count the coins while she left. Four hundred gold pieces, marked with the mint of the Coronian Empire. Some were marred as could only be expected of mass production of fine items, but a certain amount of them seemed almost too perfect. He looked up to offer finality to his charm, but the chime of the silver door bell expressed its disheartening call that she had left without another word exchanged.

“Such a hurry,” he thought to himself while he separated perfect coins from the imperfect. Experience had taught him many things in life, the first and foremost was that magic was a pervasive and often times underhanded tool of anyone. Women such as Ruby, especially such as her, were the first he should expect something from. “Connected to the Tantalum, or at least interested in their workings. No doubt she follows in that ilk’s ways to some degree.”

A hunch though it was, Fitzgerald left the coins in their separated piles on the counter and fetched a gold piece he knew to be true. With a quick sputtering of words, most of which were barely common, he clenched the coin in his palm tightly. In a matter of seconds false coins and real coins were discerned, leaving him with less than he had priced the books at. “That little bitch!”

Ruby gains the three books, to use at her wishes. She loses 350 gold, 50 of the quoted price being forged. I enjoy IC purpose behind what tends to be OOC dealings, so the least I could do was give you a small reward for it. :p

[Taskmienster]

Money removed.

[Revenant]

Greetings! I will be your judge for this thread and am happy to have such illustrious personages for my first judgment. I know that a condensed rubric was requested for this thread, but seeing as this is my first official judgment I went with a full rubric commentary.

STORY
Continuity (7) - Nothing spectacularly overwrought in this thread and I get a strong sense of what is going on here and why. While a full explanation isn’t necessary, a little more explanation of who the Tantalum are and what level of respect House La Roux commands would give a stronger connection for the reader when they are name dropped.

Setting (7) - I’ve been in enough cluttered used bookstores that your descriptions evoke strong images of tightly packed row after row of worn spines, the raspy sound of pages scraping together as they are turned, and the distinctive smell of aged paper.

Pacing (5) - I found this story and its flow easy to follow and while there was nothing that jumped out and engaged me, I didn’t find myself drifting as I read.

CHARACTER
Dialogue (7) - The dialogue was believable and gave a good sense of the characters but I would have enjoyed to read more fluidness and subtlety from two people locked in a bartering dance.

Action (5) - Not much going on here. Nothing bad, but nothing outstanding either.

Persona (4) – Knowing nothing about Ruby before reading this, I got no feel for her being underhanded until she bilked Fitz in the end. Building up that facet of her would have made her economic sucker-punch less ‘out of left field’.

WRITING STYLE
Technique (6) - Nothing too special here, though I did enjoy the verbal subtlety and innuendo to the degree that it was used.

Mechanics (6) - A few minor spelling and grammatical errors but nothing terrible. As always, proofreading and then re-proofreading should help out here.

Clarity (7) - I had to pause in a couple of places to mentally chew through the words, but for the most part this piece flowed well.

Wild Card (5)

Total: 59

Ruby La Roux receives 793 exp and 90 gp.
Taskmienster receives 1307 exp and 90 gp.

[Silence Sei]

EXP-GP added.