Zhavi

Zhavi's ears twitched occasionally, rotating this way and that to cover the whole of the room. She did not look away from Droendragasyn. Her smile broadened slightly at his naming of her, and she inclined her head towards him in recognition. "Ahh," she said, eyes half-lidded. "On th'whole, yer crew takes right care. One of 'em wandered 'cross me attention, see. I thought t'meself, now, I ain't had dealin' wi'the cap'n o'the Sunset Chaser, but I've heard o'him, like anyone wi'ears has. An' I bet meself ye'd like t'know." Was her smile this side of smug? Maybe just a little. But none of that smile colored her tone -- her voice was low, smooth and pleasant without straying into friendly. Businesslike.

Zhi shrugged, a small smile answering his. "Ye ply th'space between, hey? Th'blind spot betwixt th'barons an' th'lowly gutterspites. Ye been noticed, lately. There's some what say ye were spit out o'th'sea. An' yer crew, well, they're real careful, ain't they? On th'whole."

For a moment, the giddiness returned. She swooped one of her arms out, mimicking the sound the bolt had made when it hit the rocks. She giggled, sobered, let her head hang down. Looked back up. "What's it make me, now I can do that?"

Anger flared, hot and spiteful. If -- Zhavi's smiled, cool and polite. No. "Whoever it is, ain't stupid, marm. An' ain't workin' alone, far as I can tell. Nah, I ain't gonna rush an' go fer sloppy. I got more eyes. Yon hits won't happen again. I underestimated yer enemies. Won't happen again." She bowed, letting the smile drop off her face by the time she'd straightened. Yeah, wouldn't happen again because-- No. She lifted her chin. "Th'two . . . groups, I'll call 'em, they ain't workin' t'gether. At least one of 'em is backed. We got word that there's some . . . movements, higher up. Mebbe all th'way t'the barons. Can't say fer sure, yet, but they ain't new t'this, marm. Neither o'the groups is. I don't know if they 'spected ye t'start diggin', or if they're jes playin' fer safe, but same thing. "I'm leanin' hard fer th'ones what set th'hits on yer peoples' heads, but I got a bad feelin' 'bout th'other group. Th'way th'rumors are set -- aie," she shook her head once, "they're cleavin' t'ye, marm. They know summat they shouldn't. An' I ain't gonna drop names fer ye yet, not 'till I know fer real sure. Ye done good hirin' strongarms, but if yer thinkin' o' playin' siege -- don't. Ye'll play into their hands. Cut off yer work across La Noscea, an' operate a small time front here. Two, mebbe three o' yer best. Set it up t'see if ye can't catch th'killers. But, if they're smart, they'll back off fer awhile. They'll know they got ye right spooked." Zhi stared hard at Thatcher. "Ye got yer feelin's mixed up in this, aye. I can see that. But whether'r not ye want it, th'war is comin' t'ye. Can't be th'mam o' yer crew if ye plan t'fight back. Gonna have t'be ruthless, Thatcher."

In that moment, there was nothing at all in her head. Then he started jumping and clapping and grinning, and gods, he looked so stupid. So stupid that she couldn't help but laugh at him. She lay back, stretching her arms above her head and pointing her toes as she gave herself over to the exultation. Everything went away for that little while, until reality reasserted itself. The ground was wet from the recent rain, and she was now wet too. Whatever. She still let herself lay, cushioning her head on her arms while she stared up at the sky for a little while. Her clothing would be stained, and soon it would be completely uncomfortable. I don't care, she thought, exhaling long and slow. I jes don't. Finally she rolled onto her stomach. She propped herself up on her elbows and watched Lalataru. There was a distant look in her eyes, though she was smiling. "Hey," she said.

It was natural for both sides in a parley to want to feel as if they held the advantage. Typically, it wasn't something Zhi needed much to worry about; her usual transactions were clear cut. Her employers paid for a service. She was paid for her service. The end. But information -- there was a reason why Zhi had started pushing to broaden her own influence and reputation in lowtown and even higher. "The way yer crew acts is part of yer own rep, innit?" The question was left offhand, Zhi's posture making it known she wasn't particularly interested in the answer. "Could be I made it me business t'talk 'bout yer crew. Always int'restin' talk t'be had once a ship makes port. Those o'us left standin' dockside when th'ships go out get all manner o'curious whenever one makes dock. "Ain't none o'ye made on yer own, Cap'n." She waited, leaning back in her chair. She kept her hands above the table, resting them there as if they belonged: as if that was how she always sat. Certainly, she seemed relaxed enough within the establishment, though she was by no means a frequent visitor.

"Yeah, like that. That's th'look I want t'be seein' from ye, marm." Zhi peered at Thatcher and then looked away, out to the wider street beyond the narrow one that housed the alcove. Thatcher's last words drew Zhi's attention back to look at her, however. Her face took on a thoughtful cast. She looked directly at Thatcher before looking away again as she spoke. "Would I'd learned o'the mess wi'time t'spare. 'Twas too late t'warn ye. Things've been. . . " Zhi didn't like excuses. She didn't like hearing them, and she didn't like giving them. So it was that mid-sentence she shook her head and looked back to Thatcher, dipping her head. "Won't happen again, marm. I've one o'me own takin' a wider gander 'round La Noscea. I'd thought I'd me finger on th'right one, but it's worse'n that. Ye got two enemies -- way th'scales is tippin' might be moren' that, though I've only surety on th'two. Haven't tracked down names, but I'm after 'em all th'same. I got a feelin' in me tail that ye got a turncoat in yer ranks. Fer now I'm lookin' at yer outskirts -- them what ye deal wi' on th'side. If I was yerself, I'd be takin' a second looksee 'round me own hearth. "Why'd ye call fer me? Still early. Fer th'hits?"

That was . . . Zhi bit down on the word that wanted to come out of her, on the feeling itself that bubbled up and made her want to glare at him and stomp back inside the city. She didn't want to admit to herself why she was getting angry, much less admit it to the lalafell, but once the notebook was back in her hands she didn't exactly have many options. She looked down at it, hating how stupid she felt. She took out the grease pencil, pressed her lips together and glanced back at Lalataru. No help, there. All that open space, and she was still trapped as good as if she'd been penned up at the end of a dock. Her first try failed. That made her more angry. Her lines became erratic and crooked, prompting another five failures. She was pretending she didn't care by the seventh, and had stopped paying attention to what she was doing by the thirteenth; she was wondering how long he would stand there watching her before he stopped her when something rippled along her fur and buzzed over her spine. It snapped out of her, away from the notebook, careening upwards at an awkward angle and splatting against the rock with a sound that was almost pathetic. Zhi fell back on her arse, her eyes wide and her mouth open wide. She felt as if something had just punched through her gut, leaving her feeling empty yet strangely euphoric. All traces of the act had been wiped away, leaving only Zhi to turn her shocked expression on Lalataru. She didn't say a word, just gaped at him.

Zhi watched Doendragasyn with some care, her own expression unchanging. She inclined her head, and then jerked it towards her own seat at the bar. The Keep was not a very large establishment; it was an intimate setting for those who had quiet, sensitive words to say to each other. Given those who patronized it, this is what had helped to stand it above the others in the area. From it humble beginnings, it had risen to something of prominence in the area. That was what kept it clear of roaming jacks. Palms were greased, and activity in and around the Keep was kept subtle enough to make all and sundry happy with the arrangements that had been made. Which was why Zhavi, even cleaned up from her natural state, was warily watched by the Keep's various staff. She looked like trouble, and trouble was simply not entertained there. Still, Doendragasyn's appearance and easy agreement to drink with her went some way towards pacifying the staff, and as Zhi wandered by the bar to signal for a wench, she did not earn the sneer that had accompanied her earlier requests. And though her ears flicked towards Doendragasyn's crewmen, she made no indication whether or not she had heard their exact words. Instead, she went back to her table and sat, kicking out the chair opposite her own in wordless invitation. "Ye run a tight ship," she said to him, tone conversationally bland.

He wasn't alone. That wasn't a problem; it was an irritation. Another level of something she had to work through. Gods, but she was tired. If only she could just go to sleep until it was all over, with a bag full of gil and a boost to her reputation. Hah. She smirked at her inner humor, knowing it to be a product of exhaustion and too much trouble. It wasn't funny. She wasn't funny. The drink was left on the table, still mostly full, as Zhi rose from her spot along the wall and ambled to intersect her target and his cronies. She shuffled what she knew of them to the front of her mind. Stand upright. Shoulders back. Chin up. Business face on; he likely wouldn't respond well to her usual cocky grin and bad attitude. Rein it in, girl, and don't feck it up. The captain and his crewmen wouldn't have made it more than four steps inside before Zhi's path crossed theirs. She planted herself before them, not quite facing them full on. A scrawny little thing -- all skin and bones, if one was being caustic about it -- with rough hair and skin, and the sort of body language that found itself right at home in the worst parts of town. Bold. Confident. Ready to take the world head on, if need be. Judging by the small scars and marks that marred her skin, perhaps she had, in bits and pieces. "Buy ye a drink?" She only looked at the Captain, didn't acknowledge his crew. Her business was with him -- the rest was incidental. Unimportant. She lifted her left hand and rubbed the tip of her ring finger against her thumb: sign lingo for dealmaking.

Zhavi waited, back to the wall and eyes on the door. Stone Keep wasn't her usual fare. It was a step above the places she typically frequented, catering to those who tended to offer jobs rather than take them. It was crummy, sure, but it was the nice sort of crummy that spoke of faded grandeur and small wealth. Her kind wasn't welcome within its white-stone walls edged with marble and draped in carefully kept wall hangings. It was why she'd spent good coin at the ragpickers to dress herself in something that would allow her entrance and wouldn't see her booted out in the first five minutes. She'd have worn Joz's clothing but, yeah, that was a short fall to disaster. Mixing jobs was never good. She was three drinks in, the edges of the buzz just starting to make itself present. The fourth drink she was taking her time with, nursing it so she could keep herself alert and on guard for her quarry. She knew that the 'tender was eyeing her up and thinking real hard about whether or not she should be left or spoken to. It was exactly for that reason that Zhavi had taken a long dip in the water, for all it was ruttin' freezing. She smelled of the sea, perfumed by the stink of fish and marine life, all salty powerful. But not offensive to sailors or dockmen. Naw, it was herself that was offensive: she'd look bedraggled even with a fresh coat of polish and spitshine to boot. She couldn't help that. Normally, she wouldn't even try. But caught between her jobs as she was, short on sleep and a long list of things that needed doing, she didn't have much of a choice. Brindle had done his part tailing Maioh, and now it was her turn to ply the connection and work their target from another angle. Enduring hostile stares and the occasional mutter wasn't new to Zhavi. She gritted her teeth, kept her expression bland, and waited. It was only a matter of time.

Zhavi kept pace with those who were forced by circumstance or design out into the rain. She darted from cover to cover, milling about under overhangs and awnings until room cleared to move to the next one. They were just a few more faceless passersby having to deal with the shite weather like anyone else. No one important. No one worth noticing. Zhi was old hat at being forgettable; her face was boring, the sort that a fellow could look at and not see as his eyes passed over faces and cityscape alike. Mayhaps it was no wonder she'd slid into the life she had. Another girl might have despaired at being plain, at being something the glittering upper class would consider ugly, but it was a boon to Zhi. Thatcher was another rutting story altogether. She hadn't been born with a forgettable face. She hadn't been born with the sort of physical appearance that lent itself to cockiness and meekness at various turns; she was noticeable. She was remarkable. She was acting right stupid. Zhi stopped them in a deep alcove in a side street that had fallen to disrepair. It was cut into the side of one of the spires, two buildings deep and not somewhere people typically went. The businesses were failing miserably, and only the cats and rats had anything positive to think of it. It was just slightly above the lower decks, and looked as if the whole chunk of buildings might just slide quietly into the sea. That's how miserable it looked. "Right," she said, eyeing Thatcher. "Ye hired me on fer information, so I'm gonna split me tongue and spit it to ye. Ye ain't a runner, an' ye ain't some beggar. Ye're a lass wi'eyes on ye. Ruttin' act like it. I've got words comin' in from all angles about how ye're actin', and they ain't nice. Ye want t'mope about lookin' drunk an' like a slattern, ye cover up yer ruttin' hair an' put some effort towards keepin' yer face unknown. Ye go out anywhere in th'open, ye put on yer iron mask an' ye show th'world ye ain't one t'be messed with. I don't blimmin' care whether'r not ye got hits out on yer crew -- when ye go out, yer th'boss. Th'boss don't feckin' care 'bout th'dogs under her heel. She spits on 'em. She shows 'em wi'her smile and her stones that she's gonna pay 'em back a hunnerd times fer what they do to her own. No matter what's goin' on. Ye unnerstand? I can't do me ruttin' job if yer goin' 'round helpin' yer enemies." She took a breath. "Th'tail's one o'yers, right?"

Zhavi sneezed. Ugh. She sneezed again, and wiped at her nose with the back of her hand. It tickled. The city sure smelled, but outside of the city smelled in another way that got up inside her nose and made it itch something awful. She swiped at it again, trying to get at the internal itch by pawing at the outside. How intolerable. But then Lalataru started talking, and Zhi's eyes wandered away from the far-off vista of the horizon and towards the lalafell. What he said didn't make perfect sense to her, but she could understand the parts of what he said easily enough. It was entirely outside of the world she'd built for herself, and that made her nervous. She wanted to lash her tail back and forth, but everything was much too open for that. She hid it up under her coat instead, glancing around every few seconds as if to make sure their surroundings weren't rearranging themselves without her noticing. "Yeah?" She said. She hadn't meant it as a question. She cleared her throat. "I don't know what t'do."

Sweet, sweet relief. He wasn't taking her on some trip that would take gods knew how long. Still, she was on guard, and edgy. "Yessir!" Zhi followed him past the chocobokeep and over the bridge, keeping her mouth shut. She hated being outside of the city. It was so. . .open.

5/28: So here's the deal -- I've been setting up a plot with Heaven's Gate and some other awesome rpers with the eventual goal to have it running on its own steam with little in the way of meta interference (ie, specific plot goals and events, though there will be some of those and once we're better underway there will be plotting for twists and the like). The idea is that this isn't good vs bad, this is two (or more, eventually >>) sides who are looking out for their own bests interests -- and if that includes some morally grey or reprehensible territory, so be it. Plot Setup Players and NPCs Involved (I think I need to add some more players, which I will do eventually >>) Current RP (which you don't need to read, it's just there for reference) What I need The first thing I need is people willing to put their characters on the side of Jaded and Luther. If you want to play a "bad guy" then we can fit that in, but otherwise your character will likely be an employee for either one just trying to get by. That could mean your character is a whore, a member of Jaded's security, a member of Jaded's crew (ie, someone helping to run the business and keep paperwork or whatever in order or their *cough* house clean), a member of Luther's crew (a sailor/whatever), or one of Luther's . . .less nice employees (either a runner like Zhi or some other sort of operativethingymajigger). The second thing I need is someone either willing to play Tabart or someone high up on the other side (which could either be an alt or we can try to work one of your own characters into that role). This is going to be a RP-intensive and active role. Essentially you will: Be helping to plan and drive the plot. Once I give you the basics of what's going down, you're going to be working independently against the HG group. Be good at ooc communication. Part of this plot involves a little information war. So, if your side does something big that would be noticed, everyone needs to know. You'll also need to help make sure that people are aware of who is involved and whatnot, and coordinate with HG's side to make sure that side is also able to get information and whatnot. Have enough free time to rp with numerous people. Be interested in longtime involvement with this plot. Send me a pm or post in this thread if you're interested! Note that if you're playing one of Luther's goons you'll need to work with ShayRei as the character belongs to her, and also with Osric as he will be playing Luther. Thanks for reading! Original Post: (we no longer need clients for this side, though if you're interested in bringing your character in, let me know) If your character is the type to hire companionship for the evening (a bow chikka), please send me/ShayRei a pm or post here. THIS IS NOT FOR ERP. Andralyn Thatcher's prostitution ring is currently under attack (via hits and subtler, more political means) by two other rival rings. Part of the rp is dealing with her clients -- some of them are being seduced away by the rivals, and turned away by icky rumors that are being spread. Andralyn is trying to put the pieces together, and Zhavi is trying to dig up the sources. Andralyn's ring is more high-class than not; they are whores, but they are also companionable. Clean. Upscale. Well-kept. These clients can therefore either just be sources of information, or can get dragged into the evolving conflict. If Zhi gets ahold of them, she might even ask them (or try to manipulate them in) to do some spying for her. It is our goal to eventually turn this into a bigger conflict as the struggle of these rings for legal operation in Limsa (can pm details) slowly begin to involve other interests (notably gangs and the like) as it turns into a power struggle. (I am in the process pming some players whose characters might work, but well uh ... yeah, it's always a little awkward, haha. Slow going, too) Additionally, Andy's ring is mostly comprised of NPCs at the moment. So if there's anyone who would like to be apart of Heaven's Gate as it deals with the hits and the volatility of this rivalry (either on a main or an alt), do send her a pm! I believe they can also make use of crew, and mercenaries at this point in time. ShayRei is wonderful to brainstorm with, so even if your character doesn't quite fit but you're interested, don't hesitate to pm her! Lastly, Zhi is in need of another runner-type individual to help her gather information. Due to extenuating circumstances, her maneuverability has been compromised, and she's having to keep her visibility low. I can always npc it, but it's fun to have someone to brainstorm with. Thanks for reading!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6xGuGSDsDrM (that song started playing in my head as soon as you did that rhyme) (I really like the Open World versus Closed World way of identifying things. Not bad, just different. )

They wanted her dead. Not so unusual, by itself. Death was as much a commodity as anything else traded within Limsa Lominsa's rising spires. What was unusual was that it had risen on a flood of misunderstandings. The Skites thought she'd cheated them, Yayabuko thought she'd wanted to exact payback, and several independent runners thought she was playing fast and loose. You didn't do that in Limsa Lominsa. Not unless you had strongarms to back up your play. Guess who had nothing? Zhavi wanted Osric Melkire dead. No one would touch him. Not for anything less than an exorbitant amount of gil, and she didn't have that. It wasn't personal. Okay, it was a little personal -- ruttin' churl had gotten her into the whole mess -- but what was done was done. He was a liability to her, whether or not she could use the information earned. It made her uneasy. Thatcher's job was a problem. It was a lifeline. It was difficult. It was interesting. The game was deadly. Repulsive, fascinating, gut-churning -- all the usual symptoms. All the usual excuses. Clove had gotten hold of Brindle, who'd gotten hold of Chirp, who'd located Zhi in her temporary house while she played dress-up as Joz. "Shiiiiiite," Chirp said. She was leaning next to the open window. She was trying to look sympathetic, and failing miserably. Zhi ignored Chirp's barely smothered grin. She was too busy thinking. "An' yer sure it's two rivals? I'd only gotten hold o'th'one." "Your problem. Ain't mine, guv. Keep tellin' ya t'branch outside Limsa. 'Sall connected, see?" There'd been hits put out around La Noscea. Whoremasters putting out hits? That wasn't right. Zhi knew that writs were hard to obtain, but when had it ever become a matter of killing? No, something else was going on. "I got need fer another runner," Zhi said. "Go ask Yayabuko -- oh wait!" Chirp giggled, tapping her lower lip with a finger. "'Sgonna cost ya." "Yeah. What else is new?" ______________ There had been a time when Zhi had crouched to be at Brindle's height. He'd been a scrawny runt of a kid, all knees and elbows, but since she'd taken him up he'd eaten regularly. He'd grown. Soon enough he'd want to become his own runner. Soon enough he'd be doing his own deals. Soon enough he'd betray her for a better take. But not yet. She could rely on him for one more big job. Just one more job. Nald'thal. . . She stood across from him in an alcove, hood up to keep the rain off. Her tail was wrapped around her hips under her coat: she was just another forgettable rat in the rain. It'd been a rough week for Brindle. She could see it in his face, the way he stood, the way his hands hung at his side. He'd survived. The scales had balanced, and he had survived. But that didn't mean he would stay alive. "'Sgonna get worse," he said. "I know." "Ye should drop it. Feckin' crazy! Ye know it's a ruttin' mess, it ain't right an' there's --" he looked sideways, shut his mouth, and leaned closer. His voice went nightwatch quiet. "There's talk th'barons're movin'. Zhio. Th' barons." "What's that got t'do wi'me contract?" The glare Brindle shot her was really something. "Y'think that bounty on yer client came from thin air? Huh?" Zhi waved his concern away. "That's done." "Yeah? It stinks. It ruttin' stinks. She's hirin' mercs, Zhio! What ruttin' whoremaster needs mercs? Strongarms? Sure. Mercs? Nuh uh." Zhi grunted. "What was th'name of that supplier? Fer Heaven's Gate." "Zhi!" She waited. Brindle caved under her cool stare. "Maioh." She looked up, thinking. "Mm, yeah, go diggin' on her. An' th' other ring -- th'big one wi' the writ? Silken Slipper was it? Hire one o'their whores and play like ye want t'turn tricks yerself. See what else ye can fish up." He had his stubborn expression on. "Yer gonna get killed." Zhi laughed and reached out to ruffle his hair. He ducked away, flushing with the heat of his anger. Ahhh, there was the kid she knew. "They'll have t'get in line, laddo. Now go fetch me some information. Ain't keepin' y'paid to stand 'round glarin' at me." He flashed her another look, lips set in a thin line, and walked away with his hands shoved into his pockets. ___________ Zhavi was dripping by the time she made it to the Wench. The rain had started fast and hard, and they were lucky the pub was so relatively empty. That could change. That could quickly change. The rumor mill had exploded in the past week in regards to Thatcher. Her Ladyship Grace was falling fast, and when that happened trouble could only follow. Especially considering her enemies had already begun to resort to bloodshed; the scavengers would be quick to sniff out rewards on the heels of her perceived weakness. Zhi walked up to Thatcher's table and tossed down a headscarf and a cloak. "Put up yer hair, an' put that on. We're movin'." Without waiting for a reply, Zhi started walking for one of the exits. They were playing a dangerous game. The very best kind.

Feck. That was the last thing Zhavi had expected to hear, and the last thing she'd wanted to hear. Well, maybe there were worst things he could have said, but that one was rutting bad enough. Protesting? That wasn't going to happen. Not yet. There'd be no reason for Joz to have any misgivings about leaving the city, none that wouldn't complicate the simple teacher-student relationship she was currently striving for, and that. . . She had to go along with it. For now. What a rutting wonderful start to her day. "Yes, Master Lolotaru." Ye feckin' scrag! The litany of insults in her head didn't make her feel any better as she rose to her feet and dutifully followed him like some clueless puppy. Joz was all smiles, for sure, but Zhi was wrenched back by the thought of her other jobs. Brindle and Clove could handle Thatcher's business if she was out for any long amount of time, and Chirp could assist with the rest, and Skarp could wait -- she was used to waiting anyways, sometimes the timing of moving her assets could be delicate -- and . . . "So where we goin', sir?"

I had an awesome reply, but then it got eaten, so now you get the truncated version. Welcome to the RPC! I hope you're able to find lots of awesome people to broaden your rp with! Those rp custom armor items are cool, and a neat idea.

Pern! ;_; wahhh, McCaffery Welcome to the RPC! FFXIV really is a nice game to ease into, and it's so pretty! Here's to lots of awesome rp and new friends! (also, don't be shy about creating a wiki profile for your character if you haven't already )

Words after my own heart. Welcome to the RPC! It's awesome you have such a solid foundation for your character. Full time work and school? I feel you, man, can definitely be time intensive. Balmung and Gilgamesh seem to lock and unlock sporadically, with the unlock times tending towards early in the morning (but with others having had luck in the evening). Try rolling on off-hours if you're still interested in either server -- it does seem like a frustrating experience, but I think it'll pay off in the end. Hang in there!

Hey! A belated welcome to the RPC! I don't know how many people rp on Faerie, but there are certainly a lot of great resources on this site. If you have any specific questions, don't hesitate to ask -- lots of knowledgeable folks around these parts.

"It was sorta. . .tingly. Up me fingers an' down me tail. Only did it once, I was fallin' asleep -- wanted t'show ye first thing." Zhi folded her arms on her knees and smiled down at the notebook.

Zhi's lips tightened, though only for a moment, at the mention of Oschon's Torch. She looked Tyriont up and down, and then nodded with some cheer. "I'll meet ye at th'Torch, then." Hand lifted in a casual farewell, she turned and walked away from him. Another day, another job she would have accompanied him to his ship if only to make sure he didn't slip her grasp, but there were more reasons to be cautious in his company than not. She didn't want to be seen with him any longer than was necessary -- even if that meant walking under the blazing sun to a place out in the middle of nowhere without the solidity of buildings at her back and roads under her feet. Aie, she hated being out of the city. Always made her feel like she was going to be caught flatfooted. Without dawdling, she wound up at the Torch with more than enough time to spare. More waiting. Hopefully it would be time well spent, but that would depend on Tyriont -- and her own ability to sell the information she had for him.

The scales were tipping back and forth, weight settling slowly into a balance. Which way would it end up? Nald'thal was surely ready to tip it against Zhi's favor, oh aye he was. Stop that. Zhi sat on a bench, skin prickling under the fading light of the sun. The day was edging towards evening (not nearly fast enough), not that it helped so close to the reflection of the water. She waited near the Zephyr Gate and the Chocobokeep. Sweat stained her clothes at armpits and at the back of her neck where her hair met the collar of her shirt. For once, she wasn't dressed too badly: none of the clothing had holes (though the left knee of her trousers was patched), and only a few old stains along hemlines. Nothing too obvious. Nothing too noticeable. It was like the bench: stand out along a path or near a door, and people would eventually take note. But a bench -- ahh, as long as you didn't look homeless people would assume you were waiting for someone or something. The key was to look innocent. Zhi could manage that well enough. Sad little street girl, not a thieving bone in her body! As if. Impatience was held at bay by the slimmest of threads. Zhi'd met with her two partners for the job, and they'd hashed out the plan. Each had spent the prior day and the early part of this one preparing. Now or never. Tomorrow she'd need to hand the papers over, or call it off. Assuming they didn't get caught. Or killed. Focus, girl. She watched her surroundings with a practiced eye, taking care not to make herself obvious. The shivers were coming on. Her body knew the job was at hand. Soon, adrenaline would be dumped into her system, and she would be able to feed the monster inside that wanted its share of danger. Always more. There was never enough. Soon.