ZincAboutIt

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ZincAboutIt last won the day on September 3 2019

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About ZincAboutIt

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    Life is short, spike dessert first.
  • Birthday 01/25/1992

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  • Gender
    Female
  • Location
    Washington, USA
  • Interests
    Writing, petting dogs, hemalurgy, drinking warm drinks, picking flowers, blood sorcery, fuzzy scarves, tea, making book playlists, eating cucumbers, skipping, salt and vinegar chips, wordplay

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  1. Alleine jerked out of the reverie she had fallen into, trying to process what she’d heard. It was all a bit much for her, but that bit about a third Metallic Art... now that was a secret people would pay for. And pay dearly. She looked up at the man, inspecting him further. He looked like the type to sell too easy and too quick. Someone she’d eventually have to get rid of, if she couldn’t control him. But, for now, perhaps it was better if they stuck together. ”Do you know what it says to me when someone steals my drink in a run-down rust hole like this one?” She whispered. “It says that he’s desperate. That he turned up here because he needs coin more than a Coinshot who’s out of bullets.” Alleine tugged on that sense of desperation just a bit, and any kind of curiosity he might be feeling towards her. She didn’t care if he noticed it. ”Do you know how much someone would pay to find out about this?” Alleine said. “I doubt either of us do. But I do know people who could find out. And I think it might be enough for you to afford your own drinks for a very long time.”
  2. Alleine took another deep breath, feeling the grain of the wood beneath her fingers as she leaned against the outside of the tavern. She'd seen another woman enter, and she continued to hear voices from within. Someone must have survived, she thought. Slowly, curiosity began to filter in through her fear, and she peered through the tavern's grimy window. A group of people stood around talking to one another, that "Inquisitor" among them. It must be some sort of trick. According to the legends, those creatures were practically death incarnate. If everyone in there was still alive, then it must just be someone impersonating an Inquisitor. Alleine felt herself blushing, cursing herself for a fool as she recalled crawling across the tavern floor. She stood up straight, brushed off her skirt, and set her jaw before opening the door again. By some miracle, the glass of gin she'd ordered still sat on the bartop. "... think I need to sit down." Alleine looked at the source of the voice. It was that Soother fellow, the one who had stolen her drink. She pressed her lips into a line and moved back towards his table, keeping a wary eye on the others. That woman did look like a convincing Inquisitor. How had she made those spikes look so real? "What kind of 'meeting' is this?" She hissed at the Soother, hooking the tip of one finger into his glass and sliding back towards her before taking a drink. "This tavern looks like some kind of traveling circus." @Lecky Twig
  3. Alleine looked over her shoulder at the sudden commotion, expecting some kind of barroom brawl, and froze. An Inquisitor was standing at the next table over, teeth barred in a snarl. ”By the Survivor’s bloody spear,” she whispered, feeling her guts turn to ice water. All dignity forgotten, Alleine slid back off her chair onto the floor, crawling away from the table and the Soother before standing and slipping out the front door. A few others had come to the same decision, edging towards the door. Alleine tugged on their sense of self-preservation as she passed, not wanting to see everyone in the tavern slaughtered if she didn’t have to. She pressed her back against the outer wall of the tavern, breathing in shallow gasps. Survivor, am I going mad? Had she just seen Ironeyes himself in that tavern? What kind of “meeting” was this?
  4. Alleine cocked her head, considering pulling on his sense of good will a bit more, perhaps his desire to talk - but no. No, in situations like these, it was best not to risk her hand too early. "It can be difficult," she said, slipping a few coins out of her pocket and sliding them across the bar towards the man, "to remember things, especially considering how busy you are." It was enough for the drink, and a bit more besides. Alleine gave him a pointed look. "But if anything comes to mind, I'd love to know." Just then, another man passed by the bar, casually whisking her newly-poured glass of gin off the counter and seating himself at a nearby table. Her mouth was halfway open to protest when she figured that it was better to avoid making a fuss. No need to get all riled up, especially about something as silly as a -- Wait. Alleine narrowed her eyes, examining the man. He was Soothing her, and doing a damn fine job of it too. If she wasn't a Rioter, she probably wouldn't have noticed anything at all. It was only her years of experience with emotion - her own and others' - that gave her enough context to know where to look. She fished another two coins out of her pocket and set them down. "Another glass, if you please," she said, smiling. "I didn't think my friend would show up so early. If you could bring it to our table, I'd be much obliged." Then, she turned and walked towards the Soother, settling herself down across from him and leaning back in her chair. He looked well-dressed, but there was a tightness in his eyes that hinted at lean times. Besides, there were only two reasons to steal a lady's drink. You either wanted to flirt with her, or you were too wrung out to buy your own. He didn't seem brazen enough for the former. "I do hope you're enjoying that drink," she said, "considering how decent it was of me to buy it for you." @Lecky Twig
  5. Alleine raised an eyebrow at the barkeep’s abrupt change in demeanor. The koloss-blooded boy slunk away into the back of the tavern as the bartender smiled at her. Charming, she thought. ”Gin, please, if you have it,” she said, sliding up to the bar and tapping one fingernail on the wood. “Whiskey if you don’t.” She returned the man’s smile, using a pinch of Zinc and stoking his bias towards her - just a bit. Most people didn’t understand emotional allomancy, generally just assuming that Soothers and Rioters slammed emotions into one’s mind like cudgels. That was nonsense. As with many things, less was usually more. Alleine had found that oftentimes, a bit of lace on the bodice and the right rouge got a girl at least as far as Zinc, and no amount of aluminum lining in one’s hat could block it. ”I’m passing through to visit my cousin,” she said, looking around and feigning a slight overwhelm. “I didn’t expect such a crowd. Tell me, do you happen to know what’s going on here? A man such as yourself surely hears all sorts of news.” @Ookla the Stick
  6. Alleine slid the curtain aside a fraction of an inch and peered out before rapping on the ceiling of the carriage. It rolled to a stop shortly after, the horses’ shaking their heads, bridles jingling. ”Miss?” A voice called from the driver’s bench. “We’re a few blocks away yet, Miss.” “This will be fine, Sid,” Alleine said, burning a bit of Zinc and nudging his desire to help her. He quickly obliged, hopping down and opening the carriage door with a smile. Alleine smiled back, very nearly a genuine smile. Sid was easy to like, requiring almost no Rioting at all. He seemed to truly enjoy his work. ”Should I take your things onward to the boarding house, Miss?” ”Not yet,” Alleine said, taking Sid’s proffered hand and stepping out of the carriage. Unpaved grit crunched beneath her heeled boots, still wet from the morning’s surprise rain. The air was thick with the scents of wet dust and old wood. She slipped Sid a five boxing note. ”Stay close by for now, and you’ll get another five to spend at the saloon when I’m finished for the night.” Sid grinned broadly. “Yes ma’am.” He said, his Roughs accent slipping out in his excitement. He hopped back onto the driver’s bench and flicked the reins, and the carriage rolled onward. Alleine spared it another small smile before she smoothed out her skirt and reached up to adjust the black velvet ribbon tied around her throat. She resisted the urge to touch the slender scar beneath it; now was not the time for memories. It was time to get to work. She began walking down the street, fingers sliding into a hidden pocket in her skirt to remove a little vial of Zinc. She drank it quickly, careful not to smudge her lip rouge, and felt the metal kindle to life within her. If old Copps was telling the truth, there would be any number of fat pigeons ripe for the plucking here tonight. There were perks to keeping on the old Coppercloud’s good side. The stringy curmudgeon was unpleasant as a toothache, but his information was almost always sterling. Some up-and-comer had nabbed a nice little aluminum mine, and the various factions out in the Basin were tripping over themselves to find out who he was. Alleine grinned. So thoughtful of them to send me so many marks, she mused, turning a corner and stepping up to the door of the tavern. Depending on how well this went, she might even be able to take that holiday to New Seran. With so much bait set out before her, was it any surprise that the Adder had arrived? @Ookla the Stick
  7. Thank you for illustrating a Renarin that looks thoughtful without looking too derpy. Some illustrations take out the genetic good looks that run in his family and just focus on the studious nature. This really captures both!
  8. From the album Mistborn Doodles

    Vin's Ascension to Preservation in Hero of Ages. I always think of the poem "There Will Be Rest" by Sara Teasdale during this scene. "There will be rest, and sure stars shining Over the roof-tops crowned with snow, A reign of rest, serene forgetting, The music of stillness holy and low. I will make this world of my devising Out of a dream in my lonely mind. I shall find the crystal of peace, – above me Stars I shall find."
  9. Things are re-awakening on our end over here, so this might be somewhere someone can jump in at a later time, at least plot-wise. I think this thread specifically may fade out as our characters enter another thread. But if anyone is interested in joining the DA more generally, feel free to ping me or any of the members. We're still recruiting! There's always a price... The words stirred something within Lita, a phantom memory, something that faded almost as soon as it emerged. A figure shrouded in the mist of her subconscious, a tiny throb of pain in her side. She shook her head a bit. Almost without thinking, Lita reached into her sleeve and withdrew the oddly heavy coin she'd found earlier that evening. She walked it across her knuckles as she slid the pin out of Laurelai's fingers and placed it back into her headdress. "Any price, you say?" Lita grinned. "I'll have to quote those words back to you at some point, I suspect. What is that saying...? 'The spirit may be willing, but the flesh is weak'? Many have claimed devotion right up until steel met skin." Her grin turned slightly predatory, and she slipped the coin back into her sleeve. "What would you say to sharing the next drink in my office?" Lita stood and tapped the end of her cigarette into her glass, listening to the dregs of the fine port sizzle as it met ash. "I promise you'll find the journey most...invigorating."
  10. Hey everyone! I'm back from my new-baby hiatus and I'll work on catching up on everything that's been goin' down. Hope you're all enjoying coming down from the RoW book hangover like I am. I look forward to writing with you all again, and I'll be sure to check here at least a few times a week if anyone needs or wants me! I might even start making AV fanart again *gasp*. But that's only if Zinclet let's me have my arms free for long enough. She is a jealous mistress when it comes to attention. Have some cookies, on me! Free* allomancy for everyone! *disclaimer applies
  11. Yes, Lita thought, reaching into the sleeve of her dress and removing a thin silver case. Yes, I think she will do quite nicely. "Is ignorance bliss?" she said, removing a slender cigarette and lighting the tip with a pinch of her fingers, pushing some of her residual heat stores into her fingertips and hiding a wince. With her tin on, it hurt more than usual, but it was worth it for the effect. Exchanges like this were all about posturing in one way or another. "Perhaps. But I will counter your cliche with another. Knowledge is power." Lita sucked in a breath of smoke, feeling the burn in the back of her throat, the delightful pain of it. She let it curl out of her mouth for a moment before continuing. "They say that the Lord Mistborn was a Tineye before the Catacendre. I always liked that, growing up. Made a little nobody like me feel a bit more special. But you know, for just a little while - before Harmony remade him - he was something else. Something that should not have been able to exist. He could burn tin and pewter. Two metals. He broke the rules." She watched the smoke twist in the air, watching the patterns collide and divide, remaking themselves after clashing together. "Enough power lets you break all kinds of rules, Laurelai. Break them, rewrite them, undo them." Lita reached up to her headpiece and ran her fingers along the slender golden spires before finding the one that she had specially made, plucking it out and holding it before her eyes. Its tip was filed to a point so slender it was barely visible, a terribly beautiful and dangerous little thing. She twirled it between her fingers idly, spinning it through the smoke. "What do I do when I'm not enjoying fine wine? I watch. I listen. You could say that I'm a collector, of sorts. A collector of secrets. Enough of those, and you can find anyone's pressure point. And if I collect a few more things besides... well. That's just a perk of the job." Lita smiled a slender smile and took another pull on her cigarette, watching Laurelai's eyes grow brighter and brighter with curiosity and excitement. "But there I go, talking about myself again. What I'd like to know now, Laurelai, is what you want. Do you want bliss?" She set the slender spike down on the table, point facing away from either of them, metal glinting in the dim light. "Or do you want everything else?"
  12. Hi! Is the poll still open/ do we have a consensus on what is going on with the plot? I now have a bit more bandwidth to write and participate since the Zinclet is nearly 7weeks old now.
  13. Lita kept her expression relaxed, still smiling, but allowed herself to tilt her head and observe Laurelai. She was smart - quite smart, though that wasn't all too rare in a city this large and cosmopolitan. She was ambitious too, Lita could see it in her eyes, in the slightly hungry way she leaned towards her looking for that secret which Lita was beginning to dangle before her. It had been a while since they'd taken on anyone at the DoCI - in fact, Lita might have been the most recent recruit, at least into the inner echelons of the organization. We already considered her father. Clearly the family is talented. Lita mused, taking a measured sip of her port. She had nearly finished it, and was debating a second glass, when she reached into a pocket for her Alleycant pen. Lita drew it out, along with a small notepad, and was halfway through a transmission to Mac before she realized what she was doing. He's gone, Lita, she told herself, feeling her mouth slip into a small line. She was the Department Head now. It was up to her to evaluate Laurelai. This is what you wanted, she told herself, setting down the pen. Power, influence. All the strings in her hands now. All the cards in her deck. "Truths and superstition," Lita said, looking back at Laurelai and smiling again. A colder, sharper smile this time. "Elusive things to chase. More often than not, they have a way of finding you instead, do they not?"