Zhi didn't sleep that night.
Dawn was greeted by a string of foul words, the least of which was sacrilegious on several levels. There wasn't enough time any more to even take a shit, much less do anything so banal as sleeping or eating. There were people to meet, people to watch, palms to grease and gossip to listen to. She was constantly moving, fighting her way through the underbelly's complexities in her bit to fulfill her contracts and stay alive.
She loved it, of course, but she'd be lying if she said she didn't care about the lost sleep.
So it was she showed up looking sullen, with a lit pipe clamped between her lips; its bowl was filled with something energizing and probably illegal. She looked like hell, and smelled it too: the city's dank perfume hung about her, along with the stink of old booze and older sweat, still. She was just another of the city's phantoms, drifting about unnoticed.
The bell was ringing out evening when she strolled up on the docks, watching the forest of masts as they dipped and swayed with the movement of wind and water. The harbor was always a hypnotic sight.
She didn't offer a greeting to either Doendragasyn or the lalafell. They were both scrutinized in turn, and then summarily ignored as she went to the edge of the planking and sat with her legs dangling over the water. She could have easily been just another dockrat taking an unsupervised break from any number of duties. Always an easy role to play, in any case; few paid attention to the lowest hires on the crew -- unless, of course, you were supposed to be managing them.
Zhi waited in silence.
Dawn was greeted by a string of foul words, the least of which was sacrilegious on several levels. There wasn't enough time any more to even take a shit, much less do anything so banal as sleeping or eating. There were people to meet, people to watch, palms to grease and gossip to listen to. She was constantly moving, fighting her way through the underbelly's complexities in her bit to fulfill her contracts and stay alive.
She loved it, of course, but she'd be lying if she said she didn't care about the lost sleep.
So it was she showed up looking sullen, with a lit pipe clamped between her lips; its bowl was filled with something energizing and probably illegal. She looked like hell, and smelled it too: the city's dank perfume hung about her, along with the stink of old booze and older sweat, still. She was just another of the city's phantoms, drifting about unnoticed.
The bell was ringing out evening when she strolled up on the docks, watching the forest of masts as they dipped and swayed with the movement of wind and water. The harbor was always a hypnotic sight.
She didn't offer a greeting to either Doendragasyn or the lalafell. They were both scrutinized in turn, and then summarily ignored as she went to the edge of the planking and sat with her legs dangling over the water. She could have easily been just another dockrat taking an unsupervised break from any number of duties. Always an easy role to play, in any case; few paid attention to the lowest hires on the crew -- unless, of course, you were supposed to be managing them.
Zhi waited in silence.
