Hydaelyn Role-Players

Pyralis hadn't seen the Miqo'te for quite some time and the smallest part of him missed her. One job, one botched job at that, and they had parted ways without another word. The street cat was useful to him; especially with the need for eyes in such crucial times. But was this really about work or was it just an act to toy with Zhavi?

A mischievous grin crossed his lips as he sat in her home while picking under his nails with a dagger. It wasn't too difficult to fine, well that wasn't entirely true. He didn't want to tip his hand by paying off someone to tell him the location so he painfully had to throw on various disguises and try to follow the nimble Miqo'te. It was difficult enough trying to find the woman while dressed up like a beggar. The smell was still lingering on his clothing and it bothered his usual clean self immensely. This would all be worth it though. To see that -lovely- look on Zhavi's face when she walked in and saw the man of her dreams. Or was it nightmare?

He toyed with the dagger picking at his nails and waited...

Zhi was exhausted. That wasn't uncommon. What was uncommon was that she'd run out of the remedy she used to chase it away, and given the numerous little things keeping her busy, her only option was to sleep. She probably should have slept sooner, but she so loathed the exercise; it was so much easier to just inhale --

Her nostrils flared. She was awake, one foot half lifted to step forward into her favorite hole, hand outstretched to push aside the scraggly vines that kept the opening half-hidden.

She knew that smell.

Her mouth formed an unruly line as she shoved aside the vines and ducked through, breath coming between her teeth in one steady hiss. It was a few short turns to the abandoned, hollowed out room she used as her primary hiding hole, the one she'd used almost exclusively since her return. That had been a bad idea, clearly.

She showed him curiosity as she entered the dimly lit room, ears pricked forward and lips pulled to the side in a rueful smile. But he, being who he was, would still likely catch the strain at the corners of her eyes, and the way the fingers of one hand curled into a half-fist. She stood, feet shoulder length apart, weight forward, and looked around her room as if checking to see that he'd not taken anything.

"Somethin' I can do fer ye, scrag?"

Pyralis was relaxed as he continued to pick at his nails with the dagger. With the quickest gaze he looked up to her with a flat expression as if she weren't important before looking back to his nails. He let the silence build for a moment and when she looked like she was about to speak he would interject in an almost mocking tone, "Ah~ you remember the suns when you use to love me? How you so desired I took you to the sheets and made you realize that the Twelve were in fact real? I miss those suns sweet, putrid street urchin."

With a playful flick of the dagger as if he were going to toss it her way he tucked it into its sheath as his side. A final devious smirk appearing on his lips as he looked around her 'home', "My, my...I'd say this place is fit for a King who was dethroned by a mob of lalafell rogues." A hand came up to run through his fine silver hair as he crossed his legs and leant forward to place an elbow on his thigh and closed fist to his chin, "I've done enough talking haven't I? Did you miss me, dear?"

She flinched and steeled herself against that movement. It could be construed as a threat. Or not. Outrageous as ever. His words formed tiny splinters that dove under her skin, nestling there to irritate and swell her temper. Temper never worked with the man. No, he was far too infuriating for that.

"Ye've a mighty high opinion o' yerself, an' not one I'm like t'be followin'. Not like th'way ye've followed me, innit? I ain't shown ye no good time, mate, an' I ain't about t'start." She took a step closer to him, crowding him, only too aware that he could easily take her out. Near him, across the room; she'd his measure and she knew him to be the more skilled. Still, she'd her reputation as a brassy bitch to consider.

"Ye ain't never shown me no good time, so if yer thinkin' t'play in me bed, yer more daft'n a sun-crazed sailor." She stared down at him, expression settling into disinterest. There was tension in her, in the way she held herself. "What d'ye want?"

He took note of her body language, her facial expression, all the fine little twitches that made a person who they were. A small smirk appeared on his lips as he sucked his teeth and leaned back to give himself more space, "Ah~ is this the part where you come straddle me in my lap? Should I open a bottle of wine or should we just skip to the fun part?"

The violent eyes of the bard scanned her body up and down assessing to see if she had any weapons on her and if she had any outstanding wounds to be exploited if the woman decided to attack. With a quick flick of his eyes he looked back to her face and the grin grew larger, "Oh sweet street urchin. Can't an innocent man such as myself say hello to a dear friend? As for following you...I just -love- to watch you walk, dear."

A hand rose up as if to brush her sides before going back to run through his hair as he kept his intense gaze locked on her.

The end of her tail jerked to the side as if it had been touched. It stilled. Tendons on the back of her right hand, her dominant hand, popped out as she stopped the hand from closing into a fist. Barely. The left corner of her mouth deepened, and a dimple appeared as she moved yet closer to him, bent over him, one hand reaching out towards him. . .and then behind him. She plucked free a pouch of something from a shallow recession in the wall, and tucked it away into the loose shirt she wore. No odd shapes under her thin clothing, and she stood as tall and balanced as if she was in top shape. Or, at least, as much in good shape as she ever got. There were circles under her eyes, and fatigue shadowed her as it always did.

"Ye've never been fun enough fer me, fancy?" She turned away from him, presented him with her back.

Fuck off, it said, between the lines where her pride nestled all sharp and prickly as ever.

"Always too much o' yer lyin'." Not that she had anything against lying. She turned to go. "I've things t'do."

Proof of that right there. It was dawn, outside. Time for all good Keepers to be abed. But then again, Zhi'd never really been much of a good Keeper.

It wasn't the response he was expecting and when she turned ton leave a rare frown finally appeared on his lips. Quickly, he bounced up out of his seat and called out to her before she left, "Wait! Zhavi! I need you...I have a job that pays coin and you know Limsa better than anyone else I know."

He reached into his pocket to pull out a small bag of Gil and shake it so she could hear it's contents, "This is just for listening!"

The usual well tempered controlled bard had slipped and his face was in a frown and full of worry. One hand holding gil and the other in the air in a non-threatening manner.

She didn't like it.

Zhi stilled, stood there for a moment with her back to him. She couldn't control her expression right then, and her tail moved for her. Back and forth, back and forth: just the tip.

She didn't like the way the bag of coin sounded.

Head turning, she looked back at him, a congenial, sassy little smile pulling her lips to one side.

She didn't like the way his voice sounded.

Putting all of her weight on her left foot, she slowly spun around to face him, giving him a slow up-and-down appraisal.

She didn't like the way he looked.

Yet, for all of that, the tension was bleeding from her as she stood there, arms folded, showing him her confidence while her uncertainty bled to her extremities. The way her fingers moved, the way she placed her feet, the way her ears twitched: microscopic tells, all. Tells all the same.

"Ye have me attention."

It took all but a moment to pass for him to gather his wits and put on a neutral expression and calm his body language down. He focused his eyes on all her little tells and took mental notes of each. Hyur at least had an easier time hiding such expressions but Miqo’te with their ears and tails and that temperament…too easy.


But she bought into his worry and disappointed expression so he put on the slightest frown and tapped each foot uneasily to show he was hesitating, nervous, or anxious. Always best to let the person believe they had the upper hand after all.


“This is just for listening; a small token of my thanks as well as my employers.” Instead of tossing the gil to her, he would set the pouch to the side within arm’s reach of him. If she wanted it, she’d have to come get it.


“I can flatter you with pretty lies about how amazing and pretty you are but I’ll get right to it, aye? I need eyes and ears in Limsa. Someone has loose lips and sticky fingers. I need you to try and find this or these people so I can sew their lips shut and remove the fingers that grab what doesn’t belong to them. Name your offer, Zhavi. You know I’m good for it.”



Pyralis crossed his arms while chewing his lip to show his unease with the situation and averted his eyes from her face to look down at her feet. Zhavi was good though, perhaps she’d be able to see past the fake posturing. 

It wasn't like him.

Oh, the words were him, easily enough. His lies were outrageous, and obvious, and often used as a distraction; that he was admitting to it was something new between them. However, it served as a secondary distraction, pulling her attention away from what he was doing. What was he doing?

It was a game. It was always a game with him. She just couldn't quite tell why. Why he'd sought her out in her own, secret, personal space. Why he'd striven to put her off her feet from the start, to make her feel the part of a doxy in her own home, to tip her to the side and then become supplicant, and needy. Had he truly been needy, would he have approached her inside her room, when he knew it would only make her angry?

Her eyes narrowed fractionally. She lifted her chin, unmoving, weight slowly shifting from foot to foot.

"Who've ye been talkin' to, honey-pot, what tweaked yer whiskers an' tol' ye no?"

Slowly his gaze moved up from her feet to her face as the soft frown slowly disappeared and was replaced with a bemused smirk. The woman never did trust him but could he blame her? So many open lies with hints of truth sprinkled in between would make anyone untrustworthy.


“Ah~Zhavi how I’ve missed your insults while I’ve been in-sluts. Spare me the quips and tell me whether or not you want to make some easy coin for a few suns work.”



The false front of worry, anxiety, and frustration he had put up previously was slipping away as he simply looked to her bored and slightly agitated, “If my count is right I’m at 62 right now.” He was of course referring to the amount of times he could have ‘made’ her from their previous encounters. A gentle reminder of who he was, but a threat none the less.  

She resisted the urge to grind her teeth. In such a small space, with such a narrow exit, it was pointless to count. She could struggle, he'd still kill her. Zhavi Streetrunner was no fighter, for all she could stick a blade in someone's back as easy as anyone else.

"Who else have ye asked, an' tol' ye no?"

No insinuation this time.

But there was thoughtfulness in her as she watched his face.

The bemused smirk finally vanished as he put on a neutral expression and spoke now in a soft tone, "I am no amateur. The moment I ask one of the others in Limsa who I have no prior relationship with the individuals will get spooked and scared off. You are the only one I've approached Zhavi."

He kept his eyes on her to ensure she didn't try anything funny as one hand traveled down to his jacket pocket and pulled out a letter with with a bloody thumbprint sealing it. The games could continue later but it was time for business as his posturing looked more serious and uneasy as he set the letter down next to the bag of gil.

"These men that sold my employers various 'goods' tipped off an enemy of ours. Burnt down the caravan, slaughtered all the individuals escorting it, and even used kids as decoys. I'll spare you the gory details of what I found but I can promise you they are not the kind of scum you'd like to associate with."

He pulled out a spare linkpearl decorated as a cactuar and set it on top of the letter, "If you can't read, ask someone you -truly- trust to read it to you and burn it afterwards. The only thing I want is locations of the names on said paper."

When he finished his speech his posture went back to a relaxed, playful one as he began to dust off his pants and shirt, "Even in a book of lies you find truth, Zhavi. Don't fuck me on this one, savvy?" The large bemused smirk coming back to his lips as his eyes held his gaze on her.

She didn't believe him, but she smiled at him as if he'd offered her the very best compliment.

It creeped her out that he knew her name. He'd been talking. He was ever so good at that.

She leaned against a wall, looking down at him. "Stay awhile, lovely. Read it t'me, an' I'll burn it now."

There was more confidence in the line of her body now, likely thanks to the job. There was more danger in the unknown, to her, than there was in the chance of some group or other who would have her killed should they find her snooping. That sort of risk, she was used to and comfortable with.

But her personal space? That was an affront she wouldn't forgive him any time soon. That reality was hidden in the depths of her smile, in the way it altered the shape of her face and didn't quite reach her eyes.

There were choices, and she'd made hers long ago.

An even broader grin appeared on his lips the moment she called him lovely, the game had begun. With a quick glance over her body he pushed himself up to stand at his full height of six fulms and two ilms and gave his lips a quick lick to moisten them, “Well, well…I could very well read it to you but ‘fraid that’ll cost ya. My time, like yours, is quite valuable.”

Slowly he ran a hand through his silver locks putting on a lustful gaze as his eyes once again wandered her body and he took two slow, calculated steps towards her, “Say I read you the letter…what can you offer me?”

One hand rose up to gently stroke his own chin in thought as the other moved to his stomach and lightly tapped his index finger against it. He took another careful two steps towards her hoping to get into her personal space. Only one person was allowed to be comfortable. That person was the bard.