Take Alienne With Me - 6 (5 in thread, 1 vote in rep)
Leave Alienne - 3
"When you are right, you are right," I say, bowing my head with a conciliatory manner, hands spread wide. "Go ahead and move the box out of the way so none of the other members trip over it, hm? I'll just go fetch the poster."
Upon my acquiescence, she gets a grin on her face that one could read as either eager or unsettling. I opt for a charitable impression and choose the first. And why shouldn't she be eager? She is my bodyguard, after all, and it's rare that she actually gets to indulge in the act of guarding my body. That sounds worse in my head than I intend, but there's no need to revise it, I think.
She bobs her head and starts scanning the garden for a good, conspicuous space to place her trap where it won't be an obstacle for the staff but still be obvious to any rogue popoto-eating apes that might happen by. Leaving her to her work, I make my way into the estate and to my office.
The poster is easy enough to find once it's there. Beyond the clutter and piles of books on my desk, I keep the place organized, if I do say so myself, with samples of my dubious goods kept in a cupboard to the left of my desk and personal mementos tucked away in the dresser that dominates the back wall, behind the partition that separates work from sleep space. A moment's quick rummaging and there it is, the parchment still in good shape despite the somewhat musty conditions. Ul'dah is occasionally bad for paper with its sudden rainstorms and humid shocks, but this particular advertisement seems to be made of better stock.
To ensure that there are no unusual damages, I take the poster to my desk and unroll it. And there, in all her prime, is a fine likeness of Burning Edge, dark and muscular frame clad in a very tiny amount of leather armor indeed and wielding her signature macuahuitl over her shoulder, flame-orange hair billowing in a fictional wind, a defiant grin on her face. The poster advertises her as one of a trio of exhibition matches from some twelve cycles ago. If I recall correctly, this one ended in a victory for her. The artist certainly captured her spirit.
I'll confess to being lost in a momentary admiration. Whether I have it up for sale or not, it is still my poster, after all, and I am allowed a bit of admiration. Perhaps too much, as what shakes me out of it is Alienne's voice, high and sharp like a brass knife. "Wow, Mr. V, look at the tits on her! Was she one'a your harem?"
Miss Sandraix has a knack for understanding the situation perfectly and yet phrasing it incorrectly. "I do not have a harem, Alienne," I chide as I look up at her from her position, peering at the poster from the other side of the desk. "I have a number of attractive members of the opposite sex living with me as employees. That is completely different." I start rolling the poster up again. "And no, she was not."
"Oh, well, what's that say there?" She points towards one corner in the lower right, where Burning's script is placed in a careful scrawl. "That a misprint or something?"
"'For a Burning Desire'," I say, reciting the words. This happens often - Miss Sandraix is more like the native populace than adventuring and mercantile society in being unlettered. "She was rather, ah, effusive in her gratitude after I cleared up the trouble with the debt-slavery ring."
She mulls over this, her nose wrinkling, and for a moment it seems like she has more to say. Then her eyes light up in recognition, and she nods. "Okay, I got it! Lemme go get my axe and we'll go on and see this guy about this paper."
She saunters out of the building as if she has a plan. The plan is probably no more complicated than hitting people who look at me cross-eyed with one part or another of the axe, but it is a plan. I have to remind myself of that as I roll up the poster and bind it to protect it in transit. Alienne is not a dumb woman. She is merely very direct.
---
The trip back to the Quicksand is pleasantly quiet, and I have to say I am glad I decided to accede to Miss Sandraix's requests. Blade patrols are heavy tonight, in order to watch for criminals. It wouldn't do to have them cutting into the Blades' business, after all. A few of them glance my way, as near as I can tell with those masks of theirs, but one look at Miss Sandraix in her armor, wielding that cleaver of an axe on her back, and they think better of it. Perhaps they could overpower us both, she with her axe and I with my knives, but the cost of rolling me for whatever gil I could muster may not be worth the limbs, and so we are unmolested.
By my reckoning on the time, there's still a quarter-bell left in my arrangement's deadline, but I wouldn't put it past Heidolf to think I used my claim as an excuse to leave for politeness' sake and absent himself entirely. It's a relief to see he's still there, having placed his own axe against his back, leaning against a wall with arms crossed and an absently expected look, as if there are perfectly good reasons for him to be standing there by his lonesome and he wouldn't actually be waiting for anybody, oh, no, that would be too much trouble. It's the sort of stance I normally see from Tias waiting for a date. Strange to see it on a Highlander, and in regards to such a meeting, but no matter!
I am already halfway into my usual flourishing bow before I'm even face to face with the man, holding the poster across my shoulder as more demon-may-care types might do with a sword. "My apologies for the wait, and by gratitude for your patience! May I present you with your poster."
He looks down at it, brow knitting in thought, before looking past my shoulder to Alienne, where she stands a not-quite respectable distance away. "Who's the Wildwood?"
"Hm? Ah, my security chief, Miss Sandraix." I gesture to her. She waves, perhaps too wildly. "It is late, after all, and one can never be too sure what might occur in the streets of Ul'dah. Especially with an item like this!" I tap the top of the rolled parchment. "Go ahead, have a look."
As he takes the poster and removes the binding, I take a moment to glance around the area. It's cleared up a little bit, but the Quicksand might as well be called the Myrmidon Nest for the way it always crawls with activity. Some of the customers have left, and I can't see the adventurers or the brooding elezen, but there are no doubt more. Once this matter is resolved I'll be sure to look for another customer. Presuming the bad streak is resolved, of course.
"Huh, I remember this match," he says, and I turn back to see he's unrolled the poster and is scrutinizing it. "And it is signed!"
"Indeed it is! Now, normally I would suggest a price of fifty gil for this piece of material, based on market value. But given the signature, I think that raises the price considerably, to at least a hundred and fifty." This is an outrageous sum compared to any of the items in my usual stock, but he seems like a collector and enthusiast, and if I'm going to end a cold streak, I'd like to do so in spectacular fashion.
"'For a Burning Desire,'" he mouths, looking over the signature. "Was this for a fan? Seems like a signature for a fan."
"Naw, naw, she wrote that 'cause Mr. V used to bang her!"
My mouth was only halfway open, my brain only a fraction of an ilm away from formulating a better response. The circuit between Alienne's mind and her tongue is a very fast one indeed. I am, for the moment, frozen.
Heidolf, however, is not. His eyes lift from the poster to scan over my face. "Wait, you knew her?"
Alienne is quicker to respond. The fact that she is direct also means that she can, at times, be very very dumb. "Yeah, he used to make her effuse all over the place! You gotta watch out for this guy, he's a real charmer with the ladies."
Can a beard turn red? Is that possible? Faces can, certainly, but a beard? I'll have to find a mirror, or a reflectively-polished mug.
It's probably not a bell before I clear my throat and regain my composure, but I manage a response in what feels like that time. "I did have a personal relationship with Miss Edge in recent moons, yes," I say. "But please, don't mind the sentimental value of the poster. One-hundred and fifty gil should be enou - "
I had my hand outstretched as if to indicate where the sum could be placed, and I feel pressure on it. A quick glance, and I see he's clutching my wrist through the sleeve of my tunic, looking up at me through the small difference between our heights.
"If you knew her," he says. "Then please, help me."
Neither of us expected this move, and I can hear, Alienne from behind me, reaching for her axe. Her armor always clatters in a certain way when she does so. My eyes, however, are fixed on his. This is the first serious shift in his expression that I've seen. Posture, tone, these have changed when I've spoken with Heidolf. But this is the first time the eyes have changed, have shown a desperation, a widening of the irises.
"Now you oughta let go of Mr. V," she says, very politely. "Or I'm gonna have to crack open your skull on account of - "
I hold up my other hand. "No. No, Alienne, it's fine. Let's hear him talk."
Turn to Page 96 to Continue!
Leave Alienne - 3
"When you are right, you are right," I say, bowing my head with a conciliatory manner, hands spread wide. "Go ahead and move the box out of the way so none of the other members trip over it, hm? I'll just go fetch the poster."
Upon my acquiescence, she gets a grin on her face that one could read as either eager or unsettling. I opt for a charitable impression and choose the first. And why shouldn't she be eager? She is my bodyguard, after all, and it's rare that she actually gets to indulge in the act of guarding my body. That sounds worse in my head than I intend, but there's no need to revise it, I think.
She bobs her head and starts scanning the garden for a good, conspicuous space to place her trap where it won't be an obstacle for the staff but still be obvious to any rogue popoto-eating apes that might happen by. Leaving her to her work, I make my way into the estate and to my office.
The poster is easy enough to find once it's there. Beyond the clutter and piles of books on my desk, I keep the place organized, if I do say so myself, with samples of my dubious goods kept in a cupboard to the left of my desk and personal mementos tucked away in the dresser that dominates the back wall, behind the partition that separates work from sleep space. A moment's quick rummaging and there it is, the parchment still in good shape despite the somewhat musty conditions. Ul'dah is occasionally bad for paper with its sudden rainstorms and humid shocks, but this particular advertisement seems to be made of better stock.
To ensure that there are no unusual damages, I take the poster to my desk and unroll it. And there, in all her prime, is a fine likeness of Burning Edge, dark and muscular frame clad in a very tiny amount of leather armor indeed and wielding her signature macuahuitl over her shoulder, flame-orange hair billowing in a fictional wind, a defiant grin on her face. The poster advertises her as one of a trio of exhibition matches from some twelve cycles ago. If I recall correctly, this one ended in a victory for her. The artist certainly captured her spirit.
I'll confess to being lost in a momentary admiration. Whether I have it up for sale or not, it is still my poster, after all, and I am allowed a bit of admiration. Perhaps too much, as what shakes me out of it is Alienne's voice, high and sharp like a brass knife. "Wow, Mr. V, look at the tits on her! Was she one'a your harem?"
Miss Sandraix has a knack for understanding the situation perfectly and yet phrasing it incorrectly. "I do not have a harem, Alienne," I chide as I look up at her from her position, peering at the poster from the other side of the desk. "I have a number of attractive members of the opposite sex living with me as employees. That is completely different." I start rolling the poster up again. "And no, she was not."
"Oh, well, what's that say there?" She points towards one corner in the lower right, where Burning's script is placed in a careful scrawl. "That a misprint or something?"
"'For a Burning Desire'," I say, reciting the words. This happens often - Miss Sandraix is more like the native populace than adventuring and mercantile society in being unlettered. "She was rather, ah, effusive in her gratitude after I cleared up the trouble with the debt-slavery ring."
She mulls over this, her nose wrinkling, and for a moment it seems like she has more to say. Then her eyes light up in recognition, and she nods. "Okay, I got it! Lemme go get my axe and we'll go on and see this guy about this paper."
She saunters out of the building as if she has a plan. The plan is probably no more complicated than hitting people who look at me cross-eyed with one part or another of the axe, but it is a plan. I have to remind myself of that as I roll up the poster and bind it to protect it in transit. Alienne is not a dumb woman. She is merely very direct.
---
The trip back to the Quicksand is pleasantly quiet, and I have to say I am glad I decided to accede to Miss Sandraix's requests. Blade patrols are heavy tonight, in order to watch for criminals. It wouldn't do to have them cutting into the Blades' business, after all. A few of them glance my way, as near as I can tell with those masks of theirs, but one look at Miss Sandraix in her armor, wielding that cleaver of an axe on her back, and they think better of it. Perhaps they could overpower us both, she with her axe and I with my knives, but the cost of rolling me for whatever gil I could muster may not be worth the limbs, and so we are unmolested.
By my reckoning on the time, there's still a quarter-bell left in my arrangement's deadline, but I wouldn't put it past Heidolf to think I used my claim as an excuse to leave for politeness' sake and absent himself entirely. It's a relief to see he's still there, having placed his own axe against his back, leaning against a wall with arms crossed and an absently expected look, as if there are perfectly good reasons for him to be standing there by his lonesome and he wouldn't actually be waiting for anybody, oh, no, that would be too much trouble. It's the sort of stance I normally see from Tias waiting for a date. Strange to see it on a Highlander, and in regards to such a meeting, but no matter!
I am already halfway into my usual flourishing bow before I'm even face to face with the man, holding the poster across my shoulder as more demon-may-care types might do with a sword. "My apologies for the wait, and by gratitude for your patience! May I present you with your poster."
He looks down at it, brow knitting in thought, before looking past my shoulder to Alienne, where she stands a not-quite respectable distance away. "Who's the Wildwood?"
"Hm? Ah, my security chief, Miss Sandraix." I gesture to her. She waves, perhaps too wildly. "It is late, after all, and one can never be too sure what might occur in the streets of Ul'dah. Especially with an item like this!" I tap the top of the rolled parchment. "Go ahead, have a look."
As he takes the poster and removes the binding, I take a moment to glance around the area. It's cleared up a little bit, but the Quicksand might as well be called the Myrmidon Nest for the way it always crawls with activity. Some of the customers have left, and I can't see the adventurers or the brooding elezen, but there are no doubt more. Once this matter is resolved I'll be sure to look for another customer. Presuming the bad streak is resolved, of course.
"Huh, I remember this match," he says, and I turn back to see he's unrolled the poster and is scrutinizing it. "And it is signed!"
"Indeed it is! Now, normally I would suggest a price of fifty gil for this piece of material, based on market value. But given the signature, I think that raises the price considerably, to at least a hundred and fifty." This is an outrageous sum compared to any of the items in my usual stock, but he seems like a collector and enthusiast, and if I'm going to end a cold streak, I'd like to do so in spectacular fashion.
"'For a Burning Desire,'" he mouths, looking over the signature. "Was this for a fan? Seems like a signature for a fan."
"Naw, naw, she wrote that 'cause Mr. V used to bang her!"
My mouth was only halfway open, my brain only a fraction of an ilm away from formulating a better response. The circuit between Alienne's mind and her tongue is a very fast one indeed. I am, for the moment, frozen.
Heidolf, however, is not. His eyes lift from the poster to scan over my face. "Wait, you knew her?"
Alienne is quicker to respond. The fact that she is direct also means that she can, at times, be very very dumb. "Yeah, he used to make her effuse all over the place! You gotta watch out for this guy, he's a real charmer with the ladies."
Can a beard turn red? Is that possible? Faces can, certainly, but a beard? I'll have to find a mirror, or a reflectively-polished mug.
It's probably not a bell before I clear my throat and regain my composure, but I manage a response in what feels like that time. "I did have a personal relationship with Miss Edge in recent moons, yes," I say. "But please, don't mind the sentimental value of the poster. One-hundred and fifty gil should be enou - "
I had my hand outstretched as if to indicate where the sum could be placed, and I feel pressure on it. A quick glance, and I see he's clutching my wrist through the sleeve of my tunic, looking up at me through the small difference between our heights.
"If you knew her," he says. "Then please, help me."
Neither of us expected this move, and I can hear, Alienne from behind me, reaching for her axe. Her armor always clatters in a certain way when she does so. My eyes, however, are fixed on his. This is the first serious shift in his expression that I've seen. Posture, tone, these have changed when I've spoken with Heidolf. But this is the first time the eyes have changed, have shown a desperation, a widening of the irises.
"Now you oughta let go of Mr. V," she says, very politely. "Or I'm gonna have to crack open your skull on account of - "
I hold up my other hand. "No. No, Alienne, it's fine. Let's hear him talk."
Turn to Page 96 to Continue!
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Current Fate-14 Storyline:Â Merchant, Marine
Current Fate-14 Storyline:Â Merchant, Marine
