Pirates of the Hard Nox 2

"I'm well aware of where we are, thank you," Juniper said, shrugging their shoulders as they began leading the pair of them towards the one nearby place, the Last Meal. They'd never been, but that was hardly something to dissuade them. Always on the lookout for new experiences, exactly why they'd grabbed the staff. They entered not long after Caleb. "I'm very much about bucking trends, though. This table good for you?" they asked, taking a seat without waiting for an answer. It was in plain view of Caleb, and though they never gave him a direct look, they knew they had backup now, in case things went south.

"So, lets start this off, yeah? What's your name?" The changeling was aware that this was extremely direct but worst case scenario, the woman would just decide to turn and walk away, and the two would likely never meet again. Or maybe she'd try to kill them, but they had an answer to that, at least.

"Riellel, huh... quite the pretty name. Pleasure to meet you, my name is Juniper." They raised an arm, wincing as the wound in their shoulder was aggravated once more, before offering a hand to shake. That name felt almost familiar, almost as if they had heard it somewhere before, but it just simply wasn't placeable at the moment. Regardless of if the handshake was accepted or not, the sorceress continued speaking. 

"Those stories you were telling were pretty grand. I do really want to know how much of it is real. If you're really that good, I might have some more adventure to send your way." The line was delivered almost like a sales pitch, paired with the most charisma infused smile a changeling who had been over a dozen other people before could manage. 

At first, Juniper was almost scared that somehow, Rielle knew exactly everything they had been up to for the last week. As the story went on, though, the details got less specific, and the reasoning less accurate. The tension eased, and they matched her smile with one of their own, the act dropping to acknowledgement rather than persuasion. "Not quite spot on, but you've got the gist. Wouldn't say we're desperate, but... well, extra hands are always appreciated," they said, paired with a shrug. "Especially if they're as competent as you claim."

Their hand dropped back to the table, and the sorceress gave her a second look over. Those stories were embellished, surely, but there had to be some truth to it. They were hesitant to draft someone else onto the Nox, especially after the whole Beck fiasco, but Rielle seemed... less temperamental, for starters. And just as competent, at least. "So, sound like enough adventure for you? Or do you need an example, evidence? I'm... pretty positive I could convince you right now, between scars, bruises, and stories." They leaned back to match, before jolting back forwards again, a brief look of something similar to panic flashing on their face. "BUT! Almost forgot, you need to answer my question. How legit were those stories, Ms. Rielle? I do want to know what we're working with here. If you don't mind, that is."

A liar. It made sense. Ronan had seen people lie before, it just wasn't something that happened often amongst his people. Ronan himself was a terrible liar, he dreaded the guilt that came from making someone believe something that wasn't true. If it was for entertainment it was probably fine, but he wished she would have said so, so he wouldn't end up feeling like a fool like he was now.

Juniper left without as much as a goodbye, walking away with the liar entertainer. People were cold in the outside world, colder than they were in the Ice Lands. Stuffing his hands in his pockets, Ronan turned to watch the musician play her loot. He wondered if the words she sang about were lies as well.

***

The aos gaotha seemed to think he was interested in her card games, but in reality he was thinking about Emer and how she'd feel reuniting with one of hers. Perhaps it was because she was the closest think he had for a family, or maybe, more likely, it was because of the guilt he didn't seem to get over, about how sad he had made her feel. He should have bought her a gift as well.

Caleb stood up and walked over to her table, pulling the empty chair back.

"Service here sucks, huh?" He asked casually, looking back to see Juniper walk in with a colorful redhead. They didn't seem to notice him, so he didn't bother acknowledge them and sat on the chair, clasping his hands together and resting his elbows on the table, his green eye meeting her golden ones. "How much?"

Her suspicions were correct, if delayed. He'd caught her staring, but she had caught him staring first, so it was alright, as long as it brought him here. She tapped the deck against the hard wood of the table and set it aside.

"They make up for it in food quality," she answered him. While she had exercised her voice and conversational skills in her journey, it still returned to a deep croon when she was working. She traced his gaze to the other pair, the redhead and the young person in glasses. She noted them, but kept her attention trained on him as he asked for costs.

She held up a finger, then a second, then a third, as she gestured with her other hand and listed her services. "A palm reading is one coin. Tarot, two coins. Crystal ball, three coins."

She intentionally did not specify what kind of coin. It could indicate ignorance on the part of the aos goetha, and usually that's what she wanted her customer to believe. It was only a habit recently taken here in Leimor, mostly just to see how it worked, and it had worked well so far. Most people settled for silver. She knew the ones who would do copper before they even sat down, either poor, or taking this as either a fun pastime that wasn't worth more than that or attempting to sleight her without her noticing. Those that chose gold were either wealthy, or desperate. The merchant couple had been a bit of both.

"Which I recommend depends on what you seek."

I sauntered from the kitchen, tail flicking languorously behind me, bright eyes glancing about the dining area with a nonchalant non-care. Business was fine. That'd make my man-thing happy. Even as I watched, more people entered - a fire-head dressed in clothes as bright as flowers, and the one beside her, sandy and laden in bands, and - oh, that was fun. Her face wasn't her own. I stared at her for a few long seconds before moving on.

The tall-prey was peddling her stories in her corner, again. Why people paid to be told lies, I could never understand. Maybe the lies made them feel comfortable. Man-things were so terribly weak, in that regard, always picking comfort over ugly truths. It was just like a tall-prey to take advantage of that. Were I bigger, I'd happily swat her aside.

Eventually, I settled by a tan-skinned man that smelled strongly of soap and anticipation. He was wanting to order. This was a good thing - food for him meant food for me, if his will was weak enough, if his hands were slow enough. Hopping onto the table beside him, I coiled my tail against his arm and meowed.