The Red Claw's Daughter

The Aerie
[Comfortable]
Low cherry-wood bookcases keep the round perimeter of this tower room, stocked with a dusty collection of logs, tomes and treatises. Placed at equal intervals in the curving walls above, six diamond shaped windows with blue-tinted panes offer views of the roofs and buildings of Lithmore’s south side. Two leather armchairs sit on the thick faded rug aside a square table, and a carved banister emerges from the side of the floor with the wool-carpeted steps of a circular staircase.

(The whiskey bottle on the table is open, and less than half full. )

[ Exits: down ]
Sig stands over the table, pouring a drink. [App: 2]
Julea has arrived.

“He looks worse… or did.” Julea says, from the top step of the staircase. Not fully stepping into the room. “I gave him quite a beating after.” There’s almost a smile there as she watches Sig. “So why stay away from him? Other than the obvious reasons?” [Julea ]

A trickling slosh sets Sig’s glass full, and she starts to offer it back to Julea behind her, but a glance at the morning sun streaming in from the diamond-paned windows checks the motion. She rubs her face, left eye in particular. “What? How about– the obvious reasons?” The question hurls with sarcasm. [Sig ]

“Because he is a fucking idiot who lights to throw his weight around when ever it suits him? Because he thinks he answers to no one?” Julea takes that final step upwards and into the room, approaching Sig. “What’s with Julea?” [Julea ]

“He’ll get you killed,” throws back. Sig swallows the shot, making a bitter face while her head shakes at Julea. “Easy as he’d kick a dog in the street.” Her eyes harden, leveled against Julea with a certain extra dash of turmoil rolling in their brown-black depths. [Sig ]

“I think, there are a lot of people here in Lithmore who could get me killed. Adding him to the long list isn’t a problem.” Julea reaches a hand out for the bottle, wrapping her hand around it she hesitates, raising a brow for approval. She asks though, “What’s with you?” [Julea ]

Sig’s eyes fall to Julea’s hand upon the whiskey and her empty glass is immediately dropped, the second, cleaner one tugged into readiness. She reaches to take the bottle from Julea’s grip, brushing a few slowed fingers against her hand (probably by accident?) in the process. “Poor mood,” switches to a more familiar tongue. “Never slept.”

Julea, rather than giving up the bottle right away, instead brings it (and likely with it Sig’s hand) to her lips. She takes a good sized mouthful of the whiskey, her body convulsing in a slow shudder as it runs down her throat. “Bullshit.” She replies. [Julea ]

Sig’s mouth falls slightly agape as she watches the whiskey rise, agonizing eyes dragging a vaguely dazed look over the fine bones of Julea’s face. Her hand, all but glued to the bottle, creeps a slow fall away, knocking a gentle slide of fingers down Julea’s arm.

Julea puts the bottle back down on the table. “I don’t see the point of glasses when drinking from the bottle suffices just fine. And saves on the clean up after.” She says with a shrug of her shoulders, she retreats a step back and looks towards the stairs. “Well… ”

Sig’s arm strikes out to catch Julea’s sleeve. “Don’t– don’t go.” There’s a certain husky element to the plea, which is followed up with a bootstep that faces her directly against Julea, a gap of inches between them. “You know.” Speaks at Julea lowly; fiercely. “I dare you to say that you don’t.”

Julea closes the gap between them and leans in close. Brow coming to rest against Sig’s and her mouth almost but not quite touching the other woman. She bites lightly Sig’s lip then retreats an inch. “I know. But I can’t. Play. With you.”

A little tremble shifts Sig in her abject silence, especially at that teasing gesture, and the storm in her eyes turns violent. Her head stoops, hair falling forward while a strong arm slips up to rub its palm with grinding force over her opposite collarbone. She sinks a step back and away from Julea. [Sig ]

“I seek pain.” Julea offers by way of an explanation but it isn’t much. She keeps her intense blue eyes upon Sig, her own breathes having quickened a fraction. “I don’t want much more than that.” Her right hand comes up to lightly brush against the gash that cuts through the skin of her forehead. [Julea ]

“I mean, don’t you listen to the gossip around town?” Julea adds as an after thought. [Julea ]

From below a man yells, “Hey, Jules: I heard you got beat up senseless, and no one’s heard from you in a while… doing some diligence here.”

Gavin arrives from below, his twice-wrapped woolen scarf trailing behind him.
Gavin slows to a halt.

“Well apparently we have a common goal in that,” spits Sig, making no pretense at concealing her injury. She grabs a hand at one of the shelves, holding herself up. Then she spots Gavin’s head coming up the staircase. [Sig ]

Julea is staring hard at Sig, her back to the staircase. As such, despite the shout, she responds belatedly even to his shout. When his heavy footfall announces his ascension of the stairs, she jerks around. Curls whipping across her face and shoulders and partially obscuring the heavy gash to her brow and bruises along the jaw.

Traveling up the staircase in question, his head’s the first thing in sight: uncovered, dark, and bobbing up and down as he reaches the rooftop enclave. “Don’t mean to interrupt,” he calls out from the second-highest stair, leaning against the railing as his eyes initially flit towards Sig, but ultimately settle upon the injuries that mar Julea’s face. “The fuck happened to you?” he asks pointedly, sparing both ceremony and tact. [Gavin ]

Sig looks daggers at Gavin, wiping a curled fist across the lip below her nostrils. She pulls herself together immediately next, throwing shoulders back and pushing a firm bootstep toward the table and its pair of glasses. “About time you came around,” forces from a tight throat, her quicker hand grabbing up the bottle.

“It’s half your fault…” Julea says with a light snort, as she shifts her weight between her feet, looking decidedly uncomfortable she backs up a step and places hip against one of the chairs. Eyes going over to Sig. Seeming to prefer to look anywhere except Gavin direct. “After our last chat, I decided that sparring with the lovely Count Savoi would be an excellent distraction. He proceeded to beat me to a pulp until Bryne and Ari pulled him off me.” [Julea ]

Daggers and indignation: Gavin clearly understands the posturing of both women and, after coughing into his shoulder, he remains perched upon the stairs rather than choosing to enter the room proper. “… well, I’ve no idea why you would fight him; he’s a fucking badger– furry, midget-sized, and rabid,” he comments derisively, while simultaneously staring openly at the wounds Julea displays. Then, over to Sig, he offers a conciliatory shrug. “I brought liquor,” he states helpfully. [Gavin ]

Julea think to yourself, “Now… this is awkward.”

“Yours is the better stuff,” Sig mutters, dropping the bottle with a unecessarily loud thunk. It nearly topples, but an angrily lazy hand catches it. She clunks the glasses together to the edge of the table, nearly breaking one against the other, and winces a glare at an unoffending oil lantern perched by one of the windows. “Step up. Make comfortable. We’re all friends here.” [Sig ]

[RPxp: mediocre] [HP:perfect MV:exhausted P:walk] (bathed)(Diremote)

Sig jabs a wrathful look at Julea.

With a long exhaled breath, Julea flops down on one of the nearby chairs. “You know Gav, the more people tell me to -not- do things, the more I want to do it. Figured you’d know me well enough to work that out by now.” She extends her right hand, bandages wrapped loosely around knuckles that are grazed and bruised. Again. She swallows lightly, the loud thunk of the bottle causing her to wince a little and look over to Sig. [Julea ]

“Sensing some tense situation here. It’s nothing time and whisky can’t fix,” Gavin remarks, clambering up the final stair and joining the women; he produces a trio of bottles from his satchel– the aforementioned stout whiskey, single malt, Vandagan; capuan from Vavard; and a comparably pansy-ass bottle of Tubori wine. He starts with the first and draws out the cork, passing it along the table to Sig. “… I’m still interrupting, don’t think I’m blind and don’t see it. But I’ve also walked a long way, and I figure you both could use a prim, proper, and ethical lawman to make sure there’s not yet another murder in Southside. Or something.” Again he shrugs, and his eyes scour the room. “Okay, Jules: don’t make up with her.” [Gavin ]

Sig sloshes a fair measure of the poison into both glasses, handing off the one to Gavin. She downs the second through bared teeth, glowering at the skeletal rafters open in the ceiling overhead.

Sig’s boot heels shift on the rug, turning her about to face Julea, whom she rakes over with a sullen stare, casually lifting the bottle of stout. “Whiskey, Julea?”

Julea glances side-long at Gavin (though it is more of a glare), and then slowly pushes herself up from couch. The movement lithe and full of natural grace as she crosses the room. Purposefully taking the long way around the table she attempts to grab Sig by her hair, pulling back she lands a firm kiss on the woman’s lips (assuming nothing is done to stop such) before grabbing up the bottle from Sig and drinking direct from the contents.

Sig allows the kiss, and then promptly slaps Julea. Hard. Her eyes are popping sparks.

“Well, shit,” Gavin comments aloud, circling around the table to near the pair of women; he doesn’t interrupt the romantic interlude, nor does he react much to the slap. Instead, he plucks the bottle from Julea’s hand, perhaps saving it from crashing to the floor, and subsequently takes a stiff shot from its contents. It burns, and his face screws up nastily, and he slams its butt down upon the table afterwards. Then, he gamely slides the bottle again toward Sig, looking neither perplexed nor morally outraged. “Well, as someone who’s been on both sides of this,” he comments, referring to slapper and slappee, “… fuck, I’ve got nothing.” [Gavin ]

“Pain?” Sig mutters at Julea, lips pulling a sardonic curl. [Sig ]

Julea releases the bottle into Gavin’s hand. Her fingers just simply… loosening. His grip certainly preventing it from crashing to the floor. Despite the slap, she doesn’t seem either annoyed. Or pissed off. Her hand held lightly to the point of impact as she smiles. “See. I told you.” [Julea ]

Sig thrusts her glass at Gavin for a refill, jaw shifting, eyes brooding. They’re stuck on Julea, and she doesn’t appear to have any intention of removing them. “Have another drink, Jules,” she suggests, throat a bit tight.

“Can’t we get along?” Gavin inquires, eyes shifting from Sig to Julea and back again. By now, thanks to the mild temperature in the room, he loosens his scarf and awkwardly glances around its interior, examining the contents of the bookcases. On demand, he refills Sig’s glass, then hands the bottle off to Julea. “Drink up.” [Gavin ]

Julea raises the edge of the bottle to her lips, taking way more than is healthy, and the result is a quiver that runs the length of her. She directs the lip of the bottle to Gavin, asking him. “If I kiss you too, will you slap me?” She seems to miss, or at least pretend to ignore Sig’s focus on her. [Julea ]

Sig takes a seat on the edge of the table, lending a small scratch of fingers down the inside of her left calf. “See. She -likes- it when the whole city thinks she’s a whore.” She holds her drink steady, not knocking it back just yet.

Gavin takes the bottle off of Julea’s hands, drinking liberally (but considering it’s only his second shot, he’s still in amply fin spirits) before handing it over to Sig. “The rumors vex her more than you know. She talks about it all the time,” he states earnestly, his Tubori surprisingly flawless– the vocab’s not advanced, but he’s got the pronunciation down. Then, to Juela’s question, he sighs quietly. “No. No slapping. Probably would just get awkward.”

Sig tops off her glass, her stare only briefly peeled away from Julea. The drug is starting to do it’s job: her gaze is growing glassy, a bit of a flush warming at her cheeks. She drinks, then makes a brisk headshake, flaring her eyes somewhat wider and brushing a scratch of fingers through the shag of her moderately short-cut hair after. The bottle, in full circle, is handed back off to the little spy.

“Fuck you,” Julea says over her shoulder to Sig, a hard glare shot her way before she attempts to grab the bottle back from Gavin. “You can’t kiss. It’s not even worth while broaching.” The words are accompanied by a snort. Already having had a fair amount to drink, she’s far from ready to stop yet. [Julea ]

“Well I wish you would,” Sig laughs, scornfully. “But then again, maybe I don’t want the clap.” [Sig ]

“Haven’t had interest in kissing girls in about five years now. Can’t blame me,” Gavin murmurs, ruminating as he continues the circle of trust, snatching the bottle from Julea, drinking directly from its contents (by now, the effect it has upon his demeanor is palpable: he’s more relaxed, and the taste doesn’t get to him). Then, he tops off Sig’s glass. Due to the heat that’s residing within his cheeks, his scarf and gloves goes entirely. “… pretty sure we’ve got a waloohauaua for that, so why the fuck not? What the fuck do you have to lose? Why not enjoy life before it ends so damned fast?” [Gavin ]

Sig mutters: ‘D.m.e. …zy w.ma.. . .hou.. ..ve ….ed .. key b..k first.’

Sig rubs at her cheek, squinting at Julea. She nurses her glass for now, and looks terribly interested in whatever the girl might riposte against her last jab.

Julea flops back down on the seat, whether through intent or her legs just failing her is uncertain. Slouching back so that her head rests on one arm and her legs dangle over the other, she stretches slowly cat like. “Look, you both know that I’m not in my right mind. Me attempting to broach anything with anyone at the moment will be disastrous. I just.. don’t really give a fuck.” [Julea ]

Gavin steals another shot of whiskey before closing his eyes and sighing in a remarkably exasperated fashion; and then, carefully choosing his steps, he makes his way toward Julea’s seat, descending upon the arm of the chair. He balances successfully, then looks down at her. “If you don’t give a fuck, then why not do what feels decent?” he asks pointedly. “You know I don’t judge; I don’t care enough. I don’t care about this, about people, or pretty much anything, because it’s all so fucking boring. But– you do. Or else you wouldn’t even be here. So why not just hear the lady out before you sit there and pout, alright?”

Sig scowls as her view of Julea’s legs is obstructed. It’s not as deep an expression as her earlier faces; she’s advanced to another stage of inebriation, lids drooping, tight jowls hanging with a bit less venom. She sniffs at the liquor in hand, whispering something nice over its potent aroma.

Sig mutters: ‘…l. ma.e .o. A….s h.ve. … Always will.’

Julea extends a finger tip out in the direction of Sig, replying to Gavin “She, has no guts. She won’t.” She smirks, her head shaking as she doesn’t quite pick up the muttered words Sig offers the room. “And as I said, I just want to play. I have no interest in anyone. Not anymore.”

“Then why don’t you play?” Gavin remarks down to you with words of heartfelt (if lurid) encouragement, finally standing from the edge of the armchair: he balances himself, then merely leans against the piece of furniture. Back to Sig, he motions, beckoning with one hand. “Gave up my seat for you,” he points out. [Gavin ]

Sig’s head rocks on her shoulders, tilting a dim eye back to Julea’s lounging. “Guts? Think your definition and mine ain’t much the s–” Gavin’s gesture interrupts her grumbled chiding. “Eh?”

Julea reaches out backwards with her hand, hand opening and closing in indication that she wants the bottle from Gavin. “See? She won’t. And that’s fine. She can just continue brooding.”

Gavin turns over the bottle in question, which is now showing obvious signs of being used. Perhaps three-fifths left. If that. And he lifts both shoulders in a shrug, turning his attention back to Sig. She, of course, gets an additional shrug. “I don’t know what guts anyone’s talking about, but it’s not nearly as appealing as kissing.”

Brandis arrives from below.
Brandis slows to a halt.

It’s Sig’s turn to point a finger. She strikes it at Julea, addressing Gavin in less than perfectly enunciated Lithmorran, mouth a sneer. “Look at her. Cruel as a dagger in your back. Soft and sultry as any damned steel-sharp blade.” [Sig ]

Brandis warily entering the room saying “is there a problem here?

[Action: Sig is sitting on the edge of the small table, a shotglass in hand.]

Julea is sprawled out on one of the armchairs

Brandis pulls closed his cloak, hiding his garments.

Brandis flips a voluminous cloak of soft woven fabric made without a hood back over his shoulder.

Julea wraps her hand around the bottle and brings it up above her head. From a good inch or two of height, she tips the contents with some care into her open mouth. Not quite enough to spot a bit of spillage, but pretty damn impressive none-the-less. “I will take that as a compliment…” She states after the drink, her eyes sweeping over to Brandis.

“‘s a bit melodramatic, don’t you think?” Gavin relates to Sig with, in fact, perfectly enunciated Lithmorran, all while patting you lightly upon one shoulder, as one might approvingly do towards a small animal. “She’s mostly harmless.” That concluded, his attention’s drawn by the sounds of steps coming up the stairs; he fixes both eyes upon Brandis. [Gavin ]

Sig’s pointing hand flops a shake, slapping her knee as she swings her head — rather unsteadily, mind you, towards the curved staircase. “Eh?” grunts a bit at Brandis.

Brandis seems to grow in confidence as he walks further on

Julea shoots a hard look up towards Gavin, “I am -not- your puppy.” She states, a hint of slurring distorting her words, and it seems (for now) Brandis’ presence is forgotten. “Or anyone’s puppy.” [Julea ]

“She called you fatherly,” Sig snorts at Gavin, looking mildly, and drunkenly, amused. [Sig ]

“No, hardly not. Ken’s an absolute doll,” Gavin remarks, now staring, albeit briefly, down towards Julea as she floats a canine-human comparison. Apparently placated, he again takes a seat upon the arm of the chair, sighing audibly as he takes weight off his legs. Then he snatches up a labeled bottle from Julea’s hand, drinks liberally, and extends it to Brandis. Back to Sig, he snorts. “I have no children, never will, and if I did, I’d disown them.” [Gavin ]

Brandis looking around the room with growing understanding “You…. are all part of the brotherhood of common goods are you not?”

Sig stands up from her table, putting a boot forward. She extends a hand, beaming a loose grin at Brandis, pointed teeth showing. “Name’s Tenebrae, laddie. Give a shake, and then knock a bow. I won’t be disrespected in my own house.”

Gavin nods affirmatively. “Aye, she’s the Tenebrae, and you’d best be respecting her, intrepid thief,” he murmurs. He gestures down with a thumb toward the still-seated Julea. “We call her Kitten, for obvious reasons.”

Brandis gasp, grin and takes Tenebraes hand “I am glad I was able to find you….. I have information which you may find of interest….. For a price of course….”

Julea opens her mouth and produces a meow-like sound. Her hand coming up paw like to pad at Gavin’s thigh. “Or, you could just give us the information and we let you walk out of here alive.”

Gavin hoists himself off the armchair and drops a hand briefly to his belt; he produces a dagger with minimal effort and saunters near the stairs. “Odds, kid: three, one. You’re stupid, but not criminally so,” he relates. “And I’m the Professor. Charmed.”

Gavin pulls out a dagger.

Brandis grinning “ah but you would not necessarily learn what I have to tell…. And I gurantee you will wish to hear it… As it concerns you Tenebrae, rather intimately I might say”

Brandis sits chair

Brandis sits in a chair as he says this exuding an air of confidence

Sig rolls her tongue over her teeth, shutting a bleary eye so the other can get a better look at Brandis. The shake she gives his hand is rough and rolicking, but then she fades back into a lean against the stair rail, jabbing a thumb at Gavin.

Sig approaches Gavin, closing the distance.
Sig is near.

Sig whispers to Gavin, ‘plucky chap, eh?’

Brandis states, “”Yes I am” Considers for a moment before continuing “How bout I tell you half now, and you decide if you want to hear the rest””

Gavin lifts both shoulders lazily, diffidently. He tosses the dagger wielded in one hand, then catches it adroitly with the opposite. Circus trick, maybe. “Yeah, but I’m actually curious,” he admits outright to Sig. “And we just put in new carpet, so I don’t want the bastard to bleed everywhere.”

“Yes, but how do we know that you aren’t going to tell us something that we already know?” Julea interjects into the conversation, her lips pulling up into a wide smirk. [Julea ]

Brandis grinning “I’ll be blunt. You Tenebrae, have been betrayed”

Brandis trails off, “”I can tell you the whom…. for a price””

Julea quickly jerks up from her seat, her arm grabbing at the arm of the chair to steady herself. Stormy blue eyes narrowing in on Brandis. “Fine. I’ll bite. What’s the price?”

Gavin trails off to Julea, “No means to verify. No idea he’s telling the truth. Kind of worthless now, if you ask me…”

Sig rubs the nape of her neck, winging an elbow out. She turns a droll eye to Gavin, muttering at Brandis. “The prof-proflesser runs my intelligence operations, laddie.”

Brandis claims, “It still concerns you, as does the fact that this man is considering bringing what he knows before the cardinal”

Brandis states, “That might not end well for everyone here.”

Gavin reaches out to rest a comforting hand upon Sig, turning to face her in order to issue a plaintive sigh. “I think he just made a threat, ma’am,” he states, barely hiding a smile as he proffers that statement.

Brandis says, “”Another tidbit. He has a letter from you in his posession””

Brandis claims, “”I delayed him temporarily””

“Why don’t you cough up a name,” Sig suddenly peers back at Brandis. “Kinda rude, ain’t it? Barging in without a namedrop.” [Sig ]

Brandis states, “Ask Jules. We’ve met”

Sig states to Brandis, “I asked you.”

Brandis claims, “Brandis then”

Gavin claims to Brandis, “And then follow that up with how you know about this betrayal. Because right now it’s just a guess.”

“How much?” Julea questions again, her hand reaching for her dagger, fingers wrapping gracefully around the hilt. “We met briefly, the other night. Yes.” [Julea ]

Brandis trails off, “For this…. It depends… I will obviously want safe conduct and a gurantee that no member of your guild will ever rob me unless I double cross you….”

Sig makes a shambling walk around Gavin, making a hang from the stair rail to kick the door down shut.

Sig closes the lower door.

Gavin coughs lightly, once more reaching out to lightly pat Sig’s arm as she meanders around the room before issuing a slow nod towards Brandis. “Fine,” he admits, slowly reaching into the pouches slung from his belt. “This will take care of that…”

Gavin gets a black, ceramic mask, half-moons as eyebrows with no mouth from a twice-wrapped leather belt with a sword and dagger sheath.

Gavin gives a black, ceramic mask, half-moons as eyebrows with no mouth to Brandis.

Brandis claims, “Thank you. ”

Gavin says to Julea, “Now get him to talk, Kitten. I’m tired of doing business.”

Sig’s palm meets her face, and she can’t but shake her head, shoulders rocking. Her other hand claps to the rail, keeping her upright.

Brandis states, “”he was looking for a knight to inform””

Julea tucks her feet half up under her rear, kneeling in her chair. Fingers wrapped around the hilt of her weapon. When Gavin speaks, she leaps from the chair and lands with the cat-like grace of her name-sake. “Thought you’d never ask.” She stalks over to Brandis, “Talk.”

Brandis curiously around “he also mentioned the possibility that you were a mage Tenebrae”

Brandis says, “We had drinks with him last night Jules”

“So what was he trying to tell the Knights exactly?” Julea comes around behind Brandis, lightly wrapping her arm around his shoulders in a friendly like manner, her voice whispered near his right ear. [Julea ]

Brandis relaxing in the chair “everything”

Brandis relaxing in the chair “names dates, and places, He beleived that you were the old cardinals asassin”

Gavin, the situation seemingly in hand, artfully flips his dagger in the air before sheathing it neatly on his belt. Then, he walks towards Brandis’s chair and snatches up a bottle of labeled whiskey that Julea had earlier abandoned; he guzzles from its contents, having a little trouble with it, enough that he spits a bit out. “Who the hell is ‘he’?”

Gavin tucks his dagger in his belt.

Julea lightly bites the back of Brandis’ neck, “What is everything. Come on.. you’ve not told us anything that isn’t already publicly known. Spill right from the start.”

“Of course I’m a fucking mage.” Sig’s face is red as it pops back into view, eyes glistening and the corners of her mouth twitching. She pinches the bridge of her nose, settling back against the rail with another round of headshakes. [Sig ]

Brandis is grinnning “I believe his name was Bob

Gavin asks of Sig, “Who isn’t?”

Gavin puffs a ring of smoke at Brandis.

Brandis nodding slightly at Tenebrae “indeed, and now another part of my payment would be my own awakening as a mage”

“Brandis, little buddy,” Gavin remarks, puffing gamely upon his pipe as he retreats from the chair, steadying himself near Sig instead. “Do you want to know the prize in this game? The real secret?” [Gavin ]

Brandis says, “As you wish”

“You want to know why the Order’s so tough on mages?” he inquires, looking first from Sig and then, slowly, his eyes shift towards Julea. “Because they hate competition.” He grins. Wildly. [Gavin ]

Gavin puffs a ring of smoke at Brandis.

“Good Dav’s mother,” Sig tosses across to Gavin, tapping a boot to the rug. “This is too rich.” Even Julea is included in the mirthful comment, eyes flashing that way as she grabs the rail. [Sig ]

Brandis grins saying “competition is good for the soul”

Julea lightly thumps Brandis on the back of his head. “You haven’t told us anything that isn’t public knowledge. Name the one you think to be the betrayer of the Tenebrae.”

Brandis claims, “”Bob””

Brandis exclaims, “WE HAD DRINKS WITH HIM LAST NIGHT!”

Gavin says to Julea, “Sorry, Kit. Didn’t realize spilling Leto’s secret was part of it; I suppose now you ought to– oh, he’s feisty.”

Brandis sighs “he was a plant”

A pleasant fragrance wafts toward Julea from Gavin’s pipe.

Brandis trails off, “Wasn’t he….”

Gavin wonders to Brandis, “Flowering or conifer?”

Brandis states, “Flowering”

“We can get another rug,” Sig pitches in, nudging the sole of her boot over the thick wool she’s standing on. [Sig ]

“He is not even in the bloody Brotherhood..” Julea’s eyes roll skyward, another thump on Brandis’ back in an attempt to send him to the ground. [Julea ]

Brandis winces slightly “hey I have told you everything I know”

“You know nothing!” Julea stalks back to Gavin’s side, and rests an elbow upon his shoulder. “Your turn dear. See if you can remove some fingers or something. I know how you always enjoy that sort of thing.” [Julea ]

Brandis sounding desperate “I know where he will be in a few days”

Brandis claims, “Bob, that is”

“… do we even care about Bob?” Gavin wonders aloud now, taking another puff upon his pipe before letting it hang loosely from his lips. He approaches the seated Brandis now and tilts his head curiously to the side. “I don’t want to ruin the carpet. Don’t make me, Brandis,” he pleads, sounding sincere. [Gavin ]

Brandis says, “”what do you want” sounding defeated”

Gavin states to Julea, “See, it’s that easy. He cares. Maybe he can be Tenebrae’s new interior designer.”

“Become our spy. Join the Order. Move up in their ranks.” Julea states, her eyes flowing down over Gavin’s form in a suggestive manner. “You know, dear, you look sexy when you’re dissecting. Can you find me a lung?” A side-long look given to Sig, the words accompanied by a wink. [Julea ]

Brandis claims, “”on one condition””

“it is a small thing” [Brandis ]

Gavin glances at Julea with substantial warning. “… I don’t know if he’s ready to know the secrets of the Order. I mean, he walked right in here; total lack of tact,” he concludes. “They’re not just going to awaken him right away.”

Sig taps a slow salute off her forehead, eyes boring at Julea. She tongues her cheek after, slouching back against the rail again.

“Good point. You’re right, he’s not ready for such a task. He needs to learn discretion.” Julea muses thoughtfully, teeth biting on her bottom lip. [Julea ]

Gavin muses to Julea, “What’s his condition?”

Julea lightly lifts her shoulders in a shrug, her eyes turning to Brandis. “What’s your condition?”

Sig ambles around fringe of the scene, falling into one of the leather armchairs. She leans back, scrubbing a hand through her hair and watching Brandis with a dubious eye. “This is getting dull,” observes to her comrades.

Brandis speaking quietly “my main reason for coming here was the chance that I might perhaps be tested for a mageborn, and awakened if I was…. My family has had mages before…. Though not in the past few generations….. Do this for me and I will be your most loyal servant”

“Agreed. Kitten, just toss him out. For his sake and ours,” Gavin remarks, eyes openly rolling as Brandis relates that last plea; he maneuvers around and takes a seat upon Sig’s armchair, sighing openly as he turns his grey eyes towards the staircase. [Gavin ]

Brandis claims, “Perhaps it is not so small… But the order did destroy my families fortune… I suppose it is partly for revenge that I came to the city.”

Julea stalks over to where Brandis stands, and gives him a light propelling shove towards the staircase. “Bide your time little one. You’re not ready. And you’re not deserving. Use discretion. Use your eyes and your ears. And never ever speak of what has gone on tonight. When you are ready, if you ever are.. we’ll contact you. No scram.”

Brandis stands up

Brandis begins to descend.

Brandis opens the lower door.
Brandis leaves down.

Sig bloats a smirk, then rolls her eyes ceilingward, loosing a long, dull sigh. “…Aren’t we a fun set.”

“Fuck, no wonder mages and thieves get caught so easily. I mean… shit.” Gavin remarks quietly, looking down at Sig before outright guffawing. [Gavin ]

Julea flops back in the couch, stretching slowly both arms above her head. “Yes. Not shit.”

Julea will now speak Tubori.

“You know…. if you ever want to give up the whole… lawful thing you’ve got going… we could so run this city.” Julea quips idly as she sprawls across the chair. [you ]

Gavin tilts his head skyward and tosses his suspicious-looking pipe onto the floor, where it still ekes out a few rings of smoke here and there before sputtering out entirely. “I need a drink. And that bastard totally killed my buzz– and the mood,” he murmurs sourly.

Gavin says to Julea, “I know I could. Don’t want the responsibility.”

Sig falls a surreptitious glance to Julea, drawing a hand up to stroke at her own gradually lifting chin. Her teeth grit in her mouth. “Did maul up our little party, didn’t he.”

“From now on, call me Kitten. I like that.” Julea muses, through half-lidded eyes. “Drink please.” She requests, or more demands, a hand reaching out in Gavin’s direction. [Julea ]

Gavin makes absolutely no move to leave the armrest of Sig’s chair. “Crawl over here and get it, because I ain’t moving,” Gavin retorts, snatching up the bottle that he’s more or less had positive control over throughout the encounter. And then he nods appreciably down at his other comrade. “Didn’t overstay his welcome too bad. I’ll need to figure this out with the Cardinal, but nothing to worry about.”

Julea will now speak Lithmorran.

Julea’s purring draws a sharply annoyed cant from Sig’s gamine features. “Eh,” she nods at Gavin, bracing arms for a second and then pushing herself up out of the seat. “Well, friends. It’s been grand, but I’m out.” [Sig ]

Julea complains with a grump-like sound, hefting herself up out of the seat with no cat-like grace whatsoever, she thumps over to where the pair sit. “Perhaps another time then.” She says, lightly patting Sig’s shoulder.

Gavin says, “… blame Brandis. That bastard.”

“Jules, Jules, Jules.” Sig slits eyes, muttering. She stoops, sweeping out a hat from behind the chair, putting it on at a jaunty angle. “Gavin. You ain’t half bad. Stop on up any old time.” [Sig ]
Sig wears a supple leather hat with a curved brim and a tasseled sash on her head.

“Kitten.” Julea corrects with a wide-mouthed grin, her eyes sliding over to Gavin. “He’s a lot of fun. Why else would I spend half my days in his bloody office?” [Julea ]

“We’ll see. I’m so amused, you’ve got a get out of jail free card,” Gavin murmurs, stealing Sig’s old chair; he plops down into it and releases a pent-up sigh before shaking his head considerably. “We’re not even having sex. She actually so delusional that she likes my personality.” [Gavin ]

Sig tacks a glance between the pair, peeling back her upper lip. “Shut up the door when you leave,” speaks a short adieu, and then she’s making down the stairs.

Sig begins to descend.

“I had one of those already. And a get out of tower card. And a wear-what-you-like-card.” you says, her head tipping in the direction of the woman as she departs. Once she’s out of sight, she flops down in Gavin’s lap, sprawling out side ways with her legs hanging over the arm of the chair. “Now. That was fun.” [Julea ]

Gavin saves the bottle: he places it at his feet before Julea falls down into his lap, carefree, wont to sprawl, and with elbows flailing– it causes him to sigh openly, head smacked back against the chair’s cushions. But he proves a decent base upon which to sit nonetheless. “… much fun. I really need to write Piuso,” he offers quietly, grey eyes narrowing skeptically as the other woman clomps down the stairs.

Julea stretches out lithely, and when her arm relaxes she places a hand upon Gavin’s cheek, she lightly pats it. “You’re wrong. What you said the other day. But that’s okay. I don’t mind. You’ll eventually change your mind. Until then, you’ll be like.. my older brother, or something. I’ll keep my hands off you. I… I consider you like family. But more.” [Julea ]

Gavin’s eyes close half-lidded during Julea’s exposition, and his reddened cheeks hint at finally approaching that downward slope after imbibing alcohol: the buzz is gone, and fatigue’s about to arrive. “… I need another drink,” he states, arms actively cradling Julea now, all while he rests his head against her. “Let’s be cousins,” he proposes.

“Cousins.” Julea echoes, snuggling into the hold that Gavin has on her. The hand on his cheek lightly drawn back through his hair, the gesture repeated twice before settling upon his shoulder. “Not entirely implausible.” She remarks quietly, “My Father is Lithmorran.” [Julea ]

(fade to sleep)

Gavin begins to descend.