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.
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.
