May 29 20:40:56 107 PA - Barter and Banter
From Chronicles
May 29 20:40:56 107 PA - Barter and Banter
Kingsdale - East Dregs
Midnight in the garden of filth and squalor. The moon, a blunted sphere just shy of full, rides low and red on the horizon to bask the Earth in its bloody glow and paint the red light district's neon shadows in a dull brick red. The ivory lady is popular, well-traveled, and safe-looking, while the pawn shop is locked up tight with an iron shield over the doorway to keep out would-be thieves. Cars are rare here, with a pair of tough-looking Vanguard Brawlers clearing a hole on the far side of the street as Ahriman trots down the stairway from the Lady herself. The black being seems of good cheer from ... one sort of business or another.
It's not hot, not too cold, and wind keeps some of the fog away, at least. Bridget walks down the ragged street, heels clicking on the uneven concrete. Coming from the north and wearing a little black dress, she's probably just left the Alibi or one of the other clubs. Either that or she might be heading for the Ivory Lady, for one end of the business or the other.
Ahriman takes three more steps and, to most, vanishes as he approaches Bridget. The black being's head is fixed on her a long moment as he walks towards her from the opposite end of the narrow street, and he vees across the road to slow and wait away from her path, ready to 'appear' next to her. The line of his carefully tailored jacket isn't quite so perfect on the left side, showing a bulge from his left breast nearly to his waist.
Bridget catches a glimpse of Mr. Tall, Dark, and Creepy ahead, but maybe it's just a glimpse, since he does his little dark disappear. She slows down for a step or two, then is back to the same click-click and click-click pace. It must not be the Lady she's heading for, because it gets a passing look, but that's it.
The black being falls in behind Bridget, following at fifteen feet, trailing her casually at a match to her brisque walk. And, strangely enough, another falls in behind her. A broad-shouldered fellow in a hoodie, looking a little too clean for this neighborhood beneath the moth-eaten sweater that shields his face. It's then that Ahriman speaks, "My dear Bridget." Did she ever mention her name? Ahriman's between the two, strolling towards the tall woman to peer up at her without the benefit of heels. "SO nice of you to meet me here," he greets amicably, before turning to flash a white-toothed grin at the young man. The young follower finds reason to take a right and keep walking down a side street, soon disappearing from view. "For a woman who belongs to nobody," he chastises lightly, "that is the wrong dress to wear in this ... century."
Bridget might have, might not have. Ahriman seems to know it, anyhow. She slows her walk to almost a stop and half-turns to look at him over her shoulder. A barely-there brow perks up and she gets a grin that's a little lopsided. Maybe it's the eyebrow that's pulling that edge up. "I belong to me, and what's wrong with the dress? Seems just fine to me." She looks down and smooths it out, in case a wrinkle threw it off.
"The dress is performing admirably," Ahriman concedes, a few more level paces drawing him near the taller woman. "But its very nature showcases your ample ... vulnerability. Some here would take advantage, I'm afraid." His gaze leaves her, briefly, though the pupilless gaze and dark blanket of night make it hard to say exactly where. He's definitely looking again as he suggests, "Next time I'll watch, I think. You'll annihilate a mugger or I'll watch as he takes every inch of you. Either would be amusing."
"Aww, you're so sweet, to be looking after my vulnerabilities." Bridget's smile evens out to a grin and she shrugs her bare shoulders. "Don't have to annihilate anybody. A knee in the nuts works pretty well, most times. If that doesn't, heels do a good job, too."
It appears to be a night for skulking in one form or another, though Celaeno's is far less fantastic than that of particular other predators. Dressed in rather normal cargo pants and camisole - her two swords displayed prominently on her right hip - she's slipping from shadow to shadow heading north out of the deeper dregs. Her steps become somewhat more regular and less belaboured as she continues her slow slog up the socioeconomic ladder, but she doesn't yet seem like she wants to shed the shadows.
"You would find my acorns uncrackable," Ahriman replies, as if the slang were an expanding metaphor. He presses on, black head ringed by red night as he speaks, "I've learned that in your culture such a display is not necessarily a sign of estrousin your kind. You delight in confusing the males of your species into being in season all year long." He pauses then, a small smile touching those black lips. "Or do you draw women? My Sister mates fruitlessly with a woman of her species, furiously sometimes, without results. I haven't the heart to tell her it's a hopeless pursuit."
Bridget lets out a little laugh, almost a giggle. "What's wrong with confusing them? It's alot of fun, and it's easy to do. Nothing wrong with a little furious now and then, either, no matter who it's with. That's fun, too, so it isn't hopeless." She quirks a brow up again. "Let me guess... you just like to watch?" He did just say something about that.
Celaeno's slow-going sidling finding her across the street and a good several dozen meters down the road from the approaching couple. Drawing into a crevice, she eyes them for a prolonged period, thumb hooking (with a particular satisfaction) around the hilt of one of her swords. Her left hand meanwhile slides its way to her belt, slowly producing a cigar and a book of matches. With an adept flick of her wrist, the match flares - the flickering glow lasting for just a moment, leaving a much softer dot of cherry red in its place, pulsing rhythmically.
Ahriman pauses at that question, unblinking as he stares at Bridget. His gaze grows more silver as he peers up, ebon hands unconsciously straightening his jacket. "Not always," he decides, "but it is less messy. Humans are not quite as durable as I am. Keeping tight rein over yourself can be particularly unsatisfying."
"Messy?" Bridget has to perk up the other brow for that. "Oh... You're one of -those- kind of guys. Guess I should've got that from the whole annihilate thing. Maybe you should just play a little nicer with your toys. Or find ones that aren't so breakable."
As the two approach, Celaeno draws in further details, the cherry burning a bright red for a moment before she approaches at just less than a right angle. "Your money or you life, hey?" she says brightly, if not quite apparently joking.
"I've been looking in to --," Ahriman begins, and falls silent as he hears the woman speaking. His black head turns, silvered eyes darkening as he comes to a full stop. One of his black hands snakes inside his suit jacket, slowly, as he utters in that rumbling voice of his, "Cute." He smiles then, a white-toothed affair that comes off just on the opposite side of amused, and offers, "I'll trade you the girl for my money. Deal?"
Bridget turns towards the voice and glow, then grins. "I'll take your money, but I think he'd want-- Hey!" Now she eyes Ahriman. "Little hard for you to trade me when I'm not yours. Didn't we already cover the whole who I belong to part?"
"No deal, too much work to turn a profit," Celaeno says, glancing at Bridget for a moment, "You have to do this whole process with a carrot and a stick - not worth it." Her cigar burns dully for a brief moment as she eyes Ahriman, "Though that little cudgel you're packing might be fun. You're not - " she pauses for effect, "afraid to walk to the streets unarmed, are you?" Her smile is terrifically amused, though the joke isn't terribly mean spirited. Which isn't to say she doesn't press her luck, leaning in conspiratorially toward Bridget, "It's all right. He's just overcompensating."
The black being utters softly, "Worried? I'm surrounded by up-jumped monkeys who've got their oversized, unwitting hands on laser rifles, magic, this new psychic mutation, and a host of similarly-equipped alien dangers. Animals plaque the streets with the power to kill a God. Why should that worry me when I'm so remarkabky popular?" Ahriman blinks slowly at Celaeno, and begins to fade from view. "Take her," he bids, stepping back before he's gone from normal view. "I think she's not even being deceitful, this time." Ahriman blinks slowly at Bridget again, before turning and walking away down the street. Towards the Alibi, shielded in the shadows from most prying eyes.
"Gee, here I thought he was just really happy to see me." Bridget has to grin more as she gets into Celaeno's little conspiracy, watching Ahriman all the while. Well, until he turns and walks away, that is. "Or not... I guess you scared him away. You do that to every guy that thinks he's a god or whatever?"
Celaeno watches him go, amusement flashing through her, "Truth be told, I seem to do it to most people in general." Puff. "But what I do find curious is which one of us he thought wasn't being deceitful, because half the time I can't even tell if I'm telling the truth." With a brief full-circle spin, she lets go a smoky sigh, settling back on Bridget.
Bridget shrugs and gives Celaeno her full attention, now. "I don't understand half of what he says, most of the time. Must be from the creepy part. You..." Now she shrugs again. "You just smile a whole lot, and that gets creepy, too. Anybody that looks too damned happy usually has something wrong, is up to something, or all of those."
A brief storm of confusion clouds Celaeno's expression for a moment before she promptly spins to continue walking in the same direction the couple had been previous. "Don't know what you're talking about - doesn't sound at all right, but that's all right, that's all right. Mistakes do happen. And as for him? He's mostly harmless, so long as you don't buy into his posturing. Tends to always storm off like a scolded child, really."
"Oh..." Bridget didn't think she was that good at mistakes, "Maybe it's just me, since you seemed that way. Or it's watching him walk off and pout? Been alot of that lately, too, so I don't buy his high and mighty. Like you said, he's just trying to make up for something." She starts walking again, too, but not in any big hurry to get anywhere.
"Oh no, oh no. That was just me being annoying. He's always like that, even when he's not having issues," Celaeno says, falling into a rather easy gait, "So, where we headed?" She casts a sidelong glance at Bridget, a solid smirk sitting behind her cigar. "Or are we headed nowhere in particular except the most dangerous part of town?"
Bridget laughs without the giggle this time. "I'm headed to go see a friend. More particular, still the shitty part of town. Don't know where you were planning on going, but I doubt he'd be mad with somebody else showing up. Probably have a fridge full of beer, too."
"It's an intriguing offer," Celaeno admits, suddenly somber, the statement punctuated by a sharp 'pop' at her cigar. "But tonight is a night for familiarity if not safety. I mean, if I'm going to be settling into a steady job for the betterment of the lower-caste, I'd better get used to it, hey?" A more relaxed puff is taken, though she adds a twirl to her walk. "I'm sure your friend will understand. Even if he won't forgive you."
"Lower caste?" Bridget's grin melts into a smirk and she tips her head back the way Ahriman left. "You almost sound like -him- now. Not too worried about friends getting mad. Just saves more beer and stuff for us, anyways."
Celaeno starts humming slightly, as though she's not paying attention. "Well, I'm not saying that it's a bad thing that anybody's poor. Hell, you should see my place. It's awful," she skips. "I'm just saying, that's what I'm going to be doing, I guess? Maybe? Who knows, who knows. The POINT was the steadiness. And so long as you enjoy the night, there's nothing wrong - I'll be sure to catch up with you two another night. Sounds like something."
Bridget's smirk gets bigger. "Yeah, good luck with the steady stuff. I'm still looking for that, but enough other stuff works out about the same, I guess. I know all about being broke, and fun's cheap when somebody else buys the beer." Now she upgrades to a grin with some imp in it. "Maybe I'll have to tell him about who I -almost- brought with me."
"Hence the hating," Celaeno gives a wink complete with tongue-click. "What can I say? I'm a hell of a woman. But, I'll let you go to your night - places to be. Don't get yourself mugged," and with a brief wave she stops, doing a backwards cartwheel into a skip. "See you around, and if anything comes up, I'll let you know," she calls over her shoulder.
