Zhavi

As Zhi looked Thatcher over, her eyes shone with approval. Yes, this was much better. She tossed her head. "First, the ones what put out hits on yer people are Coral's Parlor. It's run by a woman what goes by Coral, though her name's Jaquelle Voiriere. She goes by Elle, sometimes. I got word there was some bad business 'twixt her an' th'woman what ran Heaven's Gate afore ye. They're mainly out o'Gridania, but they've been pushin' into La Noscea summat fierce th'last few years. They've a writ. They ain't big now, an' here they're seen as a new group, but they're older'n what folk say, 'ccordin' t'me sources." Zhi pursed her lips, twisting them this way and that before she moved on. "They've been helpin' t'spread rumors 'bout ye an' yer ring, but they ain't th'ones what started it. That belongs t'Tabart o' Jaded. They're bein' sneaky, an' quiet. Word is Tabart has it out fer ye, but he didn't start movin' 'till he settled up wi' a man named Luther. I got a . . ." she twisted her mouth again, looking down. "Summat smells funny, marm. I ain't got deep on what they mean t'do, but me gut says it's more'n jes talkin' rude 'round ye. Take care." She looked back up to Thatcher. "One o'me contacts agreed t'work as a strongarm fer ye. Name's Dogberry, he's a roe -- real reliable. I tole him I'd set ye up wi' him. He gave me a pearl, he did, so if yer willin' t'bring him on I'll give him a tickle t'set ye two up. Could be he can deal wi' Coral's Parlor for ye." Zhi blew out a sigh, "I've got a lass'll be coddlin' up t'Jaded t'pull more information, an' a pirate does dealin's. . .I've been tole one o'yer suppliers is sellin' information this way an' that. Maioh's her name. Here." Zhi pulled out a thick sheaf of papers and held them out to Thatcher. They were lists of clients, employees, and items sold -- all relating to Heaven's Gate. "She's been sellin' it t'Tabart."

Wewenoki took the reins in one hand and rested the other on his thigh. He leaned forward, eyes not once breaking contact with Rurutani. His voice was perfectly calm, though he had about him a commanding air. "I'm offering you friendly advice. It's to your best interests to stay out of La Noscea, and away from Heaven's Gate. Nothing bad will happen to you, that way. Do you understand?" He spoke as if he hadn't heard Ruru's repeating questions, as if they hadn't been said at all.

Woooo, screenshot dump! Here we have Zhi trying to convince random strangers that Del is gay in order to encourage him to learn how to flirt with men and women... After 10 hours of hissing and spitting, they finally reached a working relationship! ...or something. Zhi's good cop, Jager is bad cop. Teehee, dingly danglies. D'lyhhia Lhuil: “I- I am not a kid.” She hissed. Zhavi Streetrunner: "Then don't feckin' act like it." (don't mind me, just Zhi being a bitch again) Jager Si'kaie: "I honestly don't think you'll have any trouble.. Maybe you can even use that pretty face o' yours to win one of their men over." Half sarcasm, half legit. He'd shrug. D'lyhhia Lhuil stuck her tongue out at Jager. Gridania is so prettyyyy...I wish La Noscea was as pretty, dangit!

Noki's mien was stern as he regarded Rurutani over the distance that separated them. "It would be to your best interest to not return. Stay out of La Noscea. Don't venture near Heaven's Gate again. If you do, I cannot guarantee that you will come away from your encounter. . .unscathed."

"Someone who's interested in your recent. . .activities. You've had transactions with Heaven's Gate, have you not?"

Woo! Happy to hear it, man. Stuff like that can be nasty to deal with. Glad it was resolved!

"Smelly hole." Zhi's reply was immediate, and full of dark amusement. She gave instructions to one of her favorite spots just off the docks and in the tangle of beachfront businesses that catered to sailors and other seafaring folk fresh off their trip. She picked up a skin of alcohol (lighter than was her usual wont -- she was working, after all) and stopped at a few different stalls to pick up parchment-wrapped street-food before heading to the natural gap formed between a cluster of buildings built into the rock and the natural bubble that had formed like a quasi-basement behind them. A few steps down, and Zhi was in the small space. She had a lantern with her, which she lit and shielded to keep the light down, and then she settled in to await Thatcher.

Oh poop! I totally didn't see this until now (thank you camping trip) -- no pressure! *coughcough* ignore that pm and my post. You focus on you. RP is always there when (or if) you're ready to come back. And, you know, if it's a few days or a few weeks and you want to hop back into the plot, just say the word! We can figure out a way. RP is flexible like that!

Though the only words Yllaria had spoken to Noki all day were "call me Mink," (she having long ago stopped using her given name, though as Noki abhorred external monikers with little having to do with one's actual name, he never used it no matter how frequent her exhortations. Besides, he'd known her long enough to forgo such impersonal aliases. She was Yllaria, and that was that), they did not need chatter to know what to do. They'd worked together a long time, and except for a brief outline Noki had given her on their plan, they worked smoothly without the need to reaffirm their actions. Noki was waiting on the road for Rurutani. He wore a broad-rimmed hat, and traditional robes made of a lighter weave than what was typical. He rode a chocobo of his own, girded and ready for battle -- no matter how light that battle was to be. No matter his own personal unease over such underhanded and --frankly -- brutish tactics, he had a job to do for Tabart. One that he knew Tabart himself struggled with. When he called out to the sole lalafell on the road (and what a deserted, perfect stretch it was), his voice did not shake. He showed no signs of his own conflict. "Rurutani Sasatani?" Yllaria remained out of sight, for the moment.

Try something new. Take a step back. Imitate a style of writing you've never tried before. Do something you've always avoided. Push your comfort zone. Check your character to see if it isn't related to their story and evolving personality. If all else fails, force it. The last one is something I've had to do numerous times over the years with forum rp. If a week or two passes and I've got nothing, and my rp partners are waiting, then I've gotta get something out. Even if it sucks. Even if every word comes screaming out of my fingertips and I have to pull them out by their roots. Sometimes the only way to clear out the rust and the cobwebs is to clean it out with activity. But sometimes that doesn't work, either. Everyone has their own way of dealing with writer's block (as Gus so aptly named it), and your best bet to discover your way is to try different things. Could just be you need to go out and not think about it for a weekend and come back refreshed. Could be you n eed to get involved with new writers or circles of rpers to get inspired and excited again. Could be any number of things. But as long as you're interested, don't give up. You got this.

It's nice. Those words would follow Zhavi throughout her day and into the next one, dogging at her heels like some unrepentant cat looking for trouble. It's nice, it's nice. Another meeting place had been her intention, but not outside. Never outside. It made her nose itch and her eyes water, and it was supremely difficult to not look over her shoulder every third second. Joz wouldn't be so paranoid, so Zhi had to keep her ears relaxed and her tail from lashing. She couldn't let her eyes dart about looking for trouble, or raise her nose to the air and open her mouth to draw air in over the scent sacs in the roof of her mouth in order to scent any potential interlopers. It was exhausting. Yet she'd stammered out her acceptance, bowed, and scurried off like a good little student. She'd changed, slid back into Zhi's skin (she was doing a patchwork job of it anyways) and run off to see to her hirelings, their gathered information and their needs; check up on Thatcher's ongoing struggle; and broaden an ever-widening circle of contacts. Yayabuko still wasn't talking to her (the ass; Melkire's stupidity wasn't her fault), so she relied on Chirp's ability to find her a second runner. Which, as it so happened, was shite. She was still waiting for someone competent. The day passed in a blur. The night passed in a blur. Galleon remained a mystery, there and vanished like some mirage while she went and did his bidding. She questioned it constantly, tested her resolve, thought about who he was and what he might do to her if she reneged on their contract. In the end, she went back to Lalataru the following day. She left a message at the Mizzenmast and waited, awkwardly, without food or water. Joz was too poor to waste coin on either. Bollocks.

You are the second person I have ever met to use that old word ('wotcher'). Ha! Where are you from? What I would do for servers is check out the event and directory forum of each, and roll a character on both servers. Gilgamesh could really use some more dedicated rpers, too. Whichever choice you make (you could even dice roll it), there is plenty of rp to be found on both servers. While open world rp may not be immediately obvious, if you talk to people oocly you'll find people on both servers are friendly and helpful, and typically willing to start rping ooc. Whichever you choose, I wish you lots of great rp! Welcome to the RPC!

Yeeees, finally a way for Zhi to sit on the ground that will actually be decent for her! Every time rp has required /sit on the ground I just have to sorta. . .pretend. And hands on hips standing will work nicely for her. More options = love, imo. Even if I can't use them for my character, I'm sure someone else can. With as many personalities as there are, there's no way any single update can have something that is of perfect use for every character.

How long would it take for him to discover fleas in his bed? A night? Two? Something to look forward to, but not that night. Zhi gave one last push off the table, and when the chair thumped back down to the ground she came up out of the chair. "I'm out. I'll come t'morrow mornin' t'show ye th'rounds. I've got some o'me hirelin's t'meet, so I'll bring ye along fer that. Fair winds." Bottle in hand, she walked for the door.

Three days had passed in a blur. Zhi almost forgot about her meeting with Thatcher when she woke up -- when had that happened? She hadn't planned on going to sleep, she still had work to complete for Lalataru -- but as she was preparing to go leave word for the lalafell, she remembered. "Shit," she muttered to herself, tossing aside Joz's clothing as if it was infested. Well, it probably was. Re-dressed, and ready, Zhi ducked out of the half-room that was her temporary "home" and onto the narrow streets of the Reach. She looked to see if she was being followed, and then opened up her pearl. "Y'there, Thatcher? I've news for ye. Ye'll be glad t'hear it. Where we meetin'?"

The lamplight reflected like tiny sparks in Zhavi's eyes. They looked black in the dim light; dark mirrors reflecting Jager as she watched him. One arm draped over the back of her chair, she was suddenly contemplative while she sat rocking back and forth. One of the legs of her chair was shorter than the other three, and the thock thock, thock thock of it was her only reply to his immediate question. "Ye want information," she said, slow and considering. She was settling down; gravity had remembered her existence and was pulling her back. It was inexorable. "Then I'll take ye on one o' me jobs. Th'brothels are fightin'. Looks t'be right nasty, it does." She pulled up her knees, put a foot on the table, and pushed her chair back onto its rear two legs. "That'll get ye started."

The bottle was upended once more, her gulps loud in the otherwise quiet room. "Zhi's good enough," she said. Yeah, why not. It wasn't as if he'd just -- cannons. Rutting. Cannons. "Yers?" She looked away, the smile dropping away again. She was left with apathy. Aie, gods, what was Nald'thal even doing to her any more?

There went the ol' paranoia alarm again. Zhi's eyes narrowed as he spoke. She didn't like the compliments. Base manipulation. She sat, because standing would look silly after a minute or two, and by then taking a seat would look even worse. She traded in the jealousy for boredom as her thoughts went for a spin into the territory of why this and why that, all the while she stared at him. For once in her life, she was struck silent, without any clever retorts, without any goading. The sass had been burned from her along with the four bodies and the secrets they'd held. She didn't owe him, not precisely, but. . . She uncorked her bottle, and gulped. One, two. Breathe. Three, four. Breathe. "Partners." The word was spat out on a breath that was almost entirely alcohol fumes. It was also raspy: thank you, booze. It was a gamble. But, on the tail end of the smokes, and fueled once more on alcohol and the queasy airiness that came on the tail end of not enough sleep and too much stimulant, she didn't care. He'd rutting played her one solid, and if there was any type of person she wanted at her side (not at her back, never there. That was what walls were for. Walls were usually trustworthy), it was someone who could outplay her. At least, until it came time to get to stabbing backs. But Zhi was relatively certain she'd be faster on the draw than him. Maybe. Probably? Bah. She smiled. Somehow, it was worse than the jealousy.

He was doing it on purpose. He was enjoying it. They could have taken the back routes, avoided running into anyone. But noooo. She barred the door and stood there, arms folded, expression ugly. It was almost as if she was awaiting a blow. Her normal inquisitiveness was gone; but for a quick look 'round the room, her sole focus was the stubborn git in front of her, with his alcohol (ever-so-generously purchased). Smugness? It was there. She knew how to look for it. But what was rutting worse -- the worst, actually -- was that she knew he deserved that smugness. He'd outstripped her. She'd brought a knife, and he'd brought sodding cannons. Cannons! Of all the blary things, cannons. So, yeah, she showed him how galled she was. She showed him her ugliest expression. Jealousy.

Once, that string of words would have earned him innuendo. Now, well, Zhi was still trying to get the rest of her pride down her godsdamned throat. She grunted at him. Energy? Had there been such a thing? The whole way to the inn he was staying at, she was dragging her feet. Who had the upper hand? Not her. Worst. Day. Ever.

Picture this: Arrogant, cocky little chit, playing at having stones larger than the world. That would be Zhi. A companion, standing alongside, with enough stubbornness and attitude to match her own. That would be Jager. One laughing, the other with ears back, tail tucked -- tucked -- and mouth open wide enough to catch a dodo. One got the trophy for biggest stones. The other, well. . . Zhi had just lost the contest. There are no words for the reluctance with which Zhi turned to face Loque. She couldn't even fake one of her brassy grins, that was how much he'd taken out of her sails. He knew it, she knew it, he knew she knew it -- so on and so forth. Point being, her paranoia had just gotten its fair share of "I tole ye so!" and then some. She closed her eyes in a long blink. Pride was damn hard to swallow. Really damn hard. She was choking on it, a little bit. "A'right. Well. I ain't hirin' ye." Her voice was just a titch on the strangled side. "Partners?"

The step faltered. Quiru was dead. By Zhi's hand. Thank you? For his job. For his privacy. For his secrets. Thank you. "Jes get th'feck out o'me city," she said. Her voice was cold. Controlled. She needed a new knife. The thought popped into her head, random and utterly out of place. She had fresh coin. She could buy one, a decent one. Yeah, thank you. Right. She slammed the door behind her.

Son of a -- he was enjoying this, the churl. And there she was, flatfooted, waiting for him to make his move because he wouldn't rutting tell her what was going on. She started to panic. Not a lot, but enough. "Loque -- " she said, right before he hit 'one'.

Zhi took the rope, ignored the jibe, and stumbled into place at the edge of the rocks. "Uhhhh. . ." adrenaline was starting to pump through her system. She looked down, at the lantern, at Loque. "What're we doin', then?" My, my, was that a hint of uncertainty in her voice?

Entertainment came in all shapes and sizes. But her comments and snarky little quips were met without resistance, and resistance was the name of the game. And that was an awful waste, because there were so many other things she could be doing, ideas running through her head that only had very little to do with the things she really should be doing. But, then, what were jobs to her right then? As pesky as the sun, they were. Speaking of which, by the time it'd started to settle down, so had Zhi. Little by little, the exhaustion crept back over her, taking away the hyperactivity and dulling her into some semblance of normalcy. Normalcy that, for at least several hours more, would be punctuated by brief clips of manic energy. Oh well. Nothing was perfect. "Ohhh? Ye can't do't on yer own, then? Paint me topsail t'deck." Hours of boredom had drained her ability to even put up a token effort at sounding anything more than sarcastic. Yet, it also primed her to be cooperative. Mostly. "What'll ye need me t'do?"