foolishwren | RYSLIG IC Contact Post

_{[Her answer is to hop RIGHT up onto the back of the bike, settling right into the spot she always takes when they make outings like this-- big ol' cocky grin on her face.]}

Up for it? Just try and pry me off this thing-- I'll scratch up the chrome, you know I will.

_{[She taps a talon or three on the bike's polished sides playfully, as though mock-contemplating the scrapes she'd leave if he did try to toss her off of it.]}

Can we stop for tacos on the way back?

[An exasperated look creeps on his face. It's over dramatic; up-played. The hang of his jaw wide, sarcastic, and all-too-much like a performer, extending himself. Greed sags his head and while the bike pivots, he gently presses his hand into the back of neck. The silent expression, saying without volume:]

["Could you not."]

Oi, oi, oi - that isn't very nice. Think you can go one day without causing trouble, huh, pissant? [Gears shifted, the former homunculus lifts his foot. The motorcycle glides off the curb not a second later; the heavy engine thirsty, thirsty, thirsty for the road ahead. Mason's act is one that he's come to expect. She's just as snide as the rest of them; a refreshing attitude, born on the devil's back and ready to challenge anyone to take her on.]

[And if there's a glint on his mouth, a show of teeth, well.]

[Greed flips his toe. The gauges on the bike quickly bounce. They upend from one side to the next; the sudden jolt, forcing both the engine and the tires below to buck at the source. For a second, there's a brief pause and as the cycle catches up with its throttle, a veering screech whistles out the tailpipe.]

[By the time he takes off, only skid marks remain. The lines, merely chalk-marks of rubber, cooked into asphalt.]

_{[Their little pantomime of troublemaker vs. exasperated boss is always a welcome ritual. It makes everything feel normal. Oh, Boss is rolling his eyes at me-- all's well with the world.]

[The same went for the lurch and jolt of the motor, and the whipping wind of the motion.]

[She grabs on as usual and throws her head back, letting it stream through the golden feathers between her ears.]

[She never knows where they're going on these outings-- only that it's sure to be exciting.]}

[Rut, rut, rut. The motorcycle's engine is nothing but a drum. It revs forward and lax(es), only to pick itself up again. A smooth transaction of oil, gas, gears, and asphalt, meeting in complete harmony. The Sin cricks his mouth to a slant and as his lip perks, the afternoon's last glint burns away in his shades. They're boiling, stark - the flicker like that of a hot-highway's shimmer, blinding in white. Usually, their destination would be pretty standard: a stop at Li's for some questionable unknown, a pick-up scheduled a healthy distance from the docks. This time though, the scene's a little different. The center city spiral tightens the more they go - its East End block, closing in with a ripe, tantalizing offer. No, today?]

[Today he's got something else in mind.]

[One of the front tires bumps over a curb and the former homunculus automatically extends his leg.] Figured we could start here. [He answers, his one heel motioning off the bike. What little elaboration he gives is minimal at best. However, a hint of activity teases further down the mouth of the alleyway and as the engine cools and his smog departs, what breaks from the clearing is a bazaar of sorts. Strings of paper(ed) lanterns, painted kites and elaborate rugs hang above them in a tapestry of color; the display, more similar to that of a false, man-made autumn.]

[Greed pockets his hands, his one pinkie finger crooked in a beckons.] Pick you something you like, pissant. Just one, though - [He taps the side of his leg twice; that smile of his, present and wide.] - so you better make it count.

_{[When the bike puttered to a halt next to the bazaar, Heather craned back a little, tufted ears pricked curiously. Usually, these outings send them to dreary corners and buildings of questionable structural integrity, to meet fishy people (not counting Li. ... Okay, sometimes counting Li) and pick up equally fishy products.]

[So for a couple of seconds she's trying to figure out just what they're doing here, only for it to dawn on her when Greed speaks.]}

... Seriously?

_{[She squints at first-- WHAT'S THE CATCH, BOSSMAN? But the way her crest fluffs up betrays her excitement. Even among the Nest, people don't usually just give each other stuff. Much less turn each other loose in a shop with the promise of paying for whatever gets picked out.]

[Greed obviously knows the risk involved there-- so no way would he be offering it unless he was serious.]

[The harpy grins back-- openly and almost without the layer of sass and mischief that underlies almost every expression Mason makes-- and then hops down off the bike.]}

Time to go find the most expensive thing in here!

_{[Okay so there was still a LITTLE mischief in there.]

[She's not going to go find the most expensive thing. But she had to say it.]}

[The Sin trails a couple of feet behind her. Of course, he knows the risks. He's weighed them out, played his hand. If nothing else, it's something he can spare. Ryslig isn't known for its pleasantries, nor is it known for its forgiveness. And while they may be criminals, while they may be society's worst contenders, his? Sometimes, even they need a reprieve.]

[It's the very reason he's here, after all.]

[While it may not be visible with the distance, the former homunculus lazily lulls his head back. His actions are all a'flare: a drama unfolding with enough over-exaggeration and theatrics to put the best to shame. A single, elongated groan wheezes up his throat and as his sunglasses dip their toes between shadow and sunshine, Greed shuffles his heels. His walk, slow and purposeful.]

If I knew you were going to be a pissant about it, I wouldn't have bothered. You do remember who you work for, right? [Dust mattes the black of his boots. It's true that most of their business tends to be a more shady affair. Be it Li's exchanges, a trip to Bavan, something else. However, the bazaar - it's alight. Odd trinkets lace over carts and stalls alike; the appearance of them, a parody of treasures, strung in plastic. The former homunculus slinks by an open-face grill. He tests his tail against one of his wheels and soon after, an exhaust of fire springs up from the coils - forcing the meat in the skillet, hissing to a roast. Thankfully, the vendor's well-versed in the town's notoriety and whatever he's cooking is saved by some practiced, quick-paced motions.]

[Out of the pan, into the fire, and isn't that just their norm.]

[Greed saddles up a heel. He pauses by one, particular table. A strange, mismatched assortment fans atop its surface. Rings, necklaces, plastic beads in a variety of colors. The Sin leers on over and as his hand hovers, he gently starts to shuffle through the mess; the look of him, like that of a magpie, picking out its favorites.] Hey Mason - what about this? [He questions. The object in his hand is thin and gold - its handle, modestly decorated. The former homunculus gives his wrist a quick flick and as his bones jerk to a still, the blade inside immediately snaps out.] Oh - ? Not bad, not bad. [A charmed whistle tickles his lip - those eyes of his, wild and focused.] How much, friend?

[The shopkeeper behind the table rubs his chin. Djävulenstad may have its roots in the devil, but even so? Nothing ever, ever, comes free.] Ah, you have a keen eye, Mr. Greed. Of course, that should go without saying. [The man squints his mouth - as if, somehow, he trying to read the price from a sheer look alone.] I'm sure you can take it off my hands for, lets say - fifty pieces. More than a bargain.

[Greed's grin glints and all-too-obviously, the seller changes his tune.] Ahaha - ! I mean, why, what am I thinking. Thirty and its yours.

Consider it a deal. [The Sin shuffles through his pockets. He drops a bag onto the table not a second later; its heavy payload, chiming an extra.] Keep the rest. I'm sure it goes without saying - if any of mine need something, you'll give them the same treatment, won't you?

[The man waves his hand - his cheeks, a flustered red.] Yes, yes, yes. Just have them show their credentials. [As if to clarify, the keeper pulls back his collar. The tattoo on the side of his neck stands out against his skin; its calling card, as black as a note, shuffled through back-alley hands. The Sin tilts his head in response. His sneer, keen and slit.] I'll make sure to let them know.

_{[The harpy all but DISAPPEARS into the racks and jam-packed shelves-- letting anything with corvid blood of any color into a place like this is just begging to lose them.]

[But the second he says her name, out she pops again, several aisles down from the one she vanished down.]

[She's got the ugliest fur scarf around her neck-- someone, somehow, tie-dyed it. Possibly after bleaching the original color out of it.]

[She'd been going to see if she could manage to drape it around Greed's shoulders without him noticing, but glinting golden object in his claws catches her attention instantly.]}

Oooooh shit...

_{[Uh, YEAH, she wants that.]

[Can't take her larger blade everywhere, after all... it pays to have smaller ones. And she does. But none as nice as that one.]

[She lets Greed do his brief haggle, but holds up the horrifying scarf afterwards, making her golden eyes as LUMINOUS AND ENDEARING AS POSSIBLE.]}

Can we get this too? It needs to go on Rosie the Riveter.

[The small moments and here, here it is. The peace between; the quiet slips, where Ryslig's troubles hit the back burner and time slinks by as sure and easy as smoke off a half-cracked smile. The former homunculus ruffles through the last bits of his transaction. He flips a single coin with a snap of his thumb - its dance, a gold piece, taking on the sun.]

[The knife clips closed and the Sin turns back to Mason.] Hmn - ? Don't see why not. [He shrugs. The curls of his fingers spin the blade's handle idly, twice. It grazes his knuckles like a breeze's sharp lick; each pass, causing a thin flit of fire to ash away at his scales. Finally, though, his claws snatch out and with a single crck, he still it.] Is that the only thing you had in mind? I'm sure our friend might appreciate it better.

[Stocke, he means. And if there's a glint of a sneer on his mouth, if there's a bit of snark in his tone, well. They already know, don't they.]

[How they have a friend in the devil.]

[Greed raises his arm, sending the clap-closed knife a'hurtling.] See if you can get it on him without him noticing. That's your next job. [A tease of amusement bakes in the bob of his throat. Of course, Stocke's no easy catch. He can easily disappear through walls. He can float away and dart. Ah, but Mason - she's clever, isn't she? More than some, more than most. No, she's the perfect one for the job and as the Sin pockets his hands, the tip of his tail gives off an excitable rattle; the look of it more similar to a cat, vibrating its pleasure.]

Unless, of course, you don't think you're up for the job -

_{[She knows just what he means, and where Greed only sneers mildly, Heather's mouth cracks open into a huge cheshire-grin.]}

Are you kidding me?

I was born for this job.

_{[She snatches the knife out of the air with both hands, not bothering to disguise how pleased she is with the gift-- it's a looker, that's for sure. And generous though he may be, Greed giving things out for free is a rare occasion.]

[Then she flicks the blade out to emphasize her salute.]}

I will have this hideous thing on him before you can say 'flower power'.

Thought so. [The Sin chases his shoulder. Of course, there are plenty more sights to see: food, kicking up a flavorful steam. Banners, rugs, elaborate strings of decorative stuff. Greed traces the coins in his pocket with the curve of his nail and as they sing back to him in soft shift of metal, he coyly sways forward. The next, big thing, full grasping his attention.]

Want a little suggestion? Have someone else distract him first. I'm sure Rosch would be more than happy to lend a hand, if you asked. [Teasing. The former homunculus stretches his legs. The way he walks, the lift of his voice; there's a kind of skip in his step. A bounce both light and clipped, as sure as bird, proudly parading itself.]

C'mon. There's more up there that we haven't checked out yet. [Greed swings his heel and a small lift of heat cooks the cobblestone below a blushing, puckered pink. No, their lulls? They're certain far and in-between. But perhaps, perhaps.]

[That's what makes it all, all, worth it.]

Oh, I'm sure I could manage to get Rosch to be a distraction even without asking.

_{[HE'S A VERY EFFECTIVE DISTRACTION.]

[ESPECIALLY FOR STOCKE.]

[She hops along after Greed, pace even jauntier than before. Whether there's actual business or just more window-shopping, today is a Good Day already.]

[SHE JUST HAS ONE QUESTION:]}

Hey-- are tacos still on the table? I feel like they should be.

[He listens to her clack at his side. Even without looking at Mason, the hop in her step? The excitement? It's telling. And while, perhaps, this isn't exactly what she needed, the ability to let loose, to enjoy.]

[The results are more than enough to satisfy.]

[Greed tosses his chin skyward.] Ha - ! I'm sure you could. Doesn't take much convincing, does it? Him and Stocke - [The bulk of his tongue winds behind his teeth. It smacks once at the back of them - the flickering forks, all but forcing a flurry of sparks to play on his lip.] - they go pretty far back. If anyone can distract him, I think our friend there's the best for the job.

[As for that other business - the former homunculus shrugs his shoulders.] Don't see why not. Just make sure you don't get any near me, hmn? Salt tends to be a bit of a problem. [Not that she can't indulge. There are plenty of food stalls to choose from. She can find one she likes, take from it. And in the meantime? Well.]

[It's not like Sin doesn't have an itch for more.]

--aw, shit.

I keep forgetting about that.

_{[She's honestly not sure she could deal with life as a demon. A life without seasoning sounds like a freaking nightmare. So she takes a moment to just kind of feel really sad about the fact that Greed literally can't even eat a potato chip.]

[... unless they can find FRESH potato chips with no salt on them yet.]}

BOSS.

I'm gonna find a saltless snack!

[It had taken some getting used to. A misstep at the bar, hissing a sting. One or two of his earlier meals, gone awry. However, it's been a long time since then and with the months stretching into years, the lack of salt? It's simply gone unnoticed. The absence of it, as mundane and thoughtless as a lung's rhythm, taking in air.]

[Still, Mason. He can practically feel the pity, rolling off her. A note, a hint, and ah, ah.]

[Isn't it just sympathy for the devil.]

[Greed shoulders hunch together and the fur around his collar rises behind his neck; the expression of it, more similar to that of groggy bird, stretching out its feathers.] Really caught up on that, aren't you? [He loosens one his elbows, allowing his fingers to splay open on the swing of his wrist.] It isn't that big of a deal, y'know. But if you're really set on it, well - [Again, the roll of his tongue finds his teeth. Truth is, the more he thinks on it; he's missing out, isn't he? On the small little things, on the tiny details lost by his insatiable tide. Eventually? Eventually.]

[Even the slimmest slivers begin to tally up.]

[The former homunculus idly pats the pads of his fingers; his look, now, as sharp as prick of sunlight, fastening itself to the rear-end of a bumper.] I guess you have a point. All right, brat. [The Sin glides his ankle and as his wings shrink at his back, he opens a space by his side. A wordless suggestion, sly and cool.]

Lead the way.

_{[LOW SODIUM QUEST IS ON, BITCHES]

[With a confident flick of the tail, she takes the offered space, and off they go.]

[Unfortunately, and to be honest unsurprisingly, there's little success to be found at first. This is Djavulenstad, the Devil's City. The street food is second to none. Tempting, indulgent, dripping in grease... and enough salt to kill Satan.]

[Mason goes from stand to stand, squinting HARD at the offerings and occasionally glancing back up to Greed for input. But salt is hard to avoid.]

[EVENTUALLY... there is a health food stand.]

[With plain rice cakes and a skinny little man who looks both excited and nervous to have not just a Nester but the Devil himself before him.]

[Mason, on the other hand...]}

Rice cakes?

Seriously??

Oh my god.

[Mason in the lead, the former homunculus licks in her wake. He leaves a little space between them. A foot, for comfort. Two more, to keep his heat lightly at bay. It's enough of a distance that he's a brisk walk away by the time she happens on something; his attention, instead, flicking to each and every stall as if his eyes alone could swallow the spread whole, whole, whole.]

[Greed's eyebrow quips and with a bent-over twist, he lulling(ly) catches up with her again. At first, he doesn't notice the man nor does he notice his excitement. It's her disdain that catches him first and as Mason's tone bristles disgust, the Sin's lower lip rolls out; his expression, as blank and confused as an animal, skittering in front of a car.]

Ah - ? A rice cake, huh? Never had one before. [One by one, his fingers sink in his hips; allowing him to leer over like a scavenging bird, sizing up a scrap. He's heard of them before - somewhere in Ryslig, before. Yet, trying one? That's a different story. And while Heather may be less inclined, the former homunculus lets out a curious hum; his spread out knees clocking, just clocking, with interest.]

[Appetizing as it may not be, it's a new opportunity, isn't it?]

[Greed pats his boot.] Get two. Couldn't be that bad, right?

_{[She'd been all set to tell the poor guy to beat it and take his healthfood with him, what part of DEVIL'S CITY do you not UNDERSTAND, bro, but both the harpy and the vendor look surprised at the verdict?]}

What? Really?

Are you s--...

Okay.

_{[Not gonna argue with the bossman.]

[She holds up two talons.]}

Two.

... And if you have any seasoning that doesn't have salt in it, throw it on.

_{[After a "YES RIGHT AWAY" and some hasty sprinkling of spices, Heather and Greed are now in the possession of two (2) rice cakes! Insert Legend of Zelda item obtaining tune here.]}

RYSLIG IC Contact Post

ACTION

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

WELCOME TO YOUR PRIVATE CHANNEL, ROADKILL ROOSTER. FOR SECURE COMMUNICATION, USE 007.14.007.17 * ROADKILL ROOSTER has joined 007.14.007.17 <ASSMUNCH45> wat up gurl!!!!!!!!!!! <BANNED USER> SCREENED MESSAGE. UNSCREEN? Y/N -- B& MOTHAFUCKA <CREATURECOMFORTS> Are YOU interested in not having to worry about basic needs? Have we got the job for YOU. Click to read more... <SHOVEL_GUY>** hey heather are you getting weird ads for going to live with rich people too??