Sorana

"I - " Mike started, pressed a hand to his forehead. "It's hard - I, I don't know who they are." he admitted quietly and then with a sigh closed his eyes. "Yes." he nodded, coming to a decision. "Yes, we can do that." He looked up, smiled at her, relieved beyond words that she hadn't run away yet, that she actually decided to stay. A Radiant staying with a thief. Well, she didn't know he was a thief, but still. "He was older than I am." he started, leaned against a nearby wall and tried to collect his thoughts. They were fuzzy, hard to cage and to place a finger on what he knew and what he didn't. As if a fog was clouding his mind, had wrapped itself around his thoughts. "Yes, I think he was older. Not much, I remember a face that didn't appear too old, but a little older. Dark cloths." Or maybe not. He frowned. "I'm not sure. I just, I know he's gone, but the rest - " he lifted his shoulders in a helpless gesture. "Maybe we should ask for help? A professional who knows how to do this?"

I like that idea. It could lead to a lot of interesting rp, also because there are a bunch of TUBA characters around.

The corner's of his mouth twitched when he saw her gaze and he lifted his right eyebrow. "That room would work fabulous." he agreed and walked over to the door, opened it for her. With a gesture, that hinted at a bow he asked her to step through before him and lead the way. "I look forward to see what we can come up together."

"But if I take it," I explain, try to make her understand. "They will keep it. It will stay in the arena forever." Uneasily I shift my weight from one feet to the other. "If you take it, it won't." I bit down on my lip, realize how I spoke of 'them' as if she doesn't belong to those living here, those supporting the games. Because she is, at least her parents are. Sponsors. I wonder again if someone will decide to sponsor me, if my mentor managed to get a few fish on his hook, but I doubt it. I'm no one special. I'm not beautiful, or wide shouldered and strong. I'm just myself.

*Gaotona takes the form with a deep bow* "It was an honor standing against you. Maybe we can continue our discussion while drinking a glass of tea?" ------- Thank you so much! I agree it was a lot of fun! @SirWolfe

Sorana is a little disappointed that she missed the discussion about sewing. Smiling she watches the others pick out some cloths and starts to look through some dresses herself. "Anybody else here never wearing pants, apart from me?" she asks and hold up a nice red skirt.

Interesting. More money to spend, more time for yourself - although I have to admit that I liked college. It was relaxing not having to care about so many things. But then being free to do what I want to is awesome as well.

"I think so, yes." Mike lied and forced a smile back on his face. Tried to get rid of the feeling that he knew this guy. "I think I knew someone like him." he added cautiously, tried to see how she would react. "And I feel like, as if I need to find them, as if I need to talk to them - but I can't. I, the face was wrong, but the name, the name was familiar. Not right, but close. So close that I can't -" He balled his hands into fists, frowned, turned away from her to hide his face, one fist moving against his chest, just over one of the spots he knew were there. The circular shapes, the ones that came and vanished and came and canished. "I need to find him." he repeated, desperation rising in his voice. "He knows, I know that he knows. What they are and why. And why they are gone, why they left me alone." His breathing picked up, while he spoke, his words quick, anguished. "He knows but I don't know, who he is. I don't know what he knows, only that he does. And I don't even know who left."

Althea waved the reporter away. "Not now." she shook her head, hoped that he would get the clue. "Talk to them." she made a quick motion with her head towards Max and the others. Hopefully they could deal with him. Reporter's. They only got worse the longer the night laster. As if fun stories about drunken ones weren't enough for them. Broken. She fully turned her attention back to the Dustbringer, wishing he had told her his name. "We are all broken messes." she echoed Max word's at him, words from a conversation long past. She wasn't entirely sure when he had wrapped his arms around her, wiped her tears away and told her that he didn't care about her breakdowns. Because he was broken. Because they all were broken. She set her glass down, hesitating, usure how to go on. They were talking, more or less. That was good, she figured, as good as she could have hoped for it to be. The only question was, how to go on. Maybe start with a base, something they both had in common. She suppressed a grimace at the thought to let him see, to let him know that she wasn't as controlled as she liked to pretend. That she had to fight every single day. That she had to fight every time she saw a candle, that strong emotions scared her until today. "This is Brashen." She extended a hand and her sprend hopped down on it after shooting her an annoyed glance. He hated to be introduced, paraded around. "And as far as I know, having a spren goes hand in hand with being broken." Looking down at his dark figure she was silent for a moment, tried to find some comfort in her spren, the courage to go on. "I know how it feels." she added. "When there is nothing but desperation, nothing but a dark pit swallowing you. Nothing but an internal whirlwind dragging you along." Lifting her eyes to his face again she looked up. "You are not alone."

"Perfect." He smiled at her. "It's for a girl, you know." he added as some kind of explanation. "So a little decoration, nicely crafted, I thought some leaves could be nice. And empty please, so that she can fill it up with whatever she prefers." He gestured towards the metals Poller had already weighed. "And them, but that part is settled." With another smile he straightened, finally stopped leaning against the counter. "What do you think about talking about these details in private? Then I could try another sketch of what I have in mind?" ========

Mike stared at Xaver, he knew him, he knew he knew him, but the face, the face was wrong. It was only the name, nothing but the name that made him wish he had never heard it in the first place. This name. It rang a bell, a bell he had never known existed. "What?" he asked and turned to Freya, realizing the thief had long fled and he had been staring into the air all the time. She held out his bag, offering it to him. "Oh, thanks." He took it, opened it to make sure its contents were still there before slinging it over one shoulder. "Are you alright?" he asked a little too late, remembering that she had fallen down after catching up with the thief.

In addition to Rushu's explanation: There is always a difference between a PC (Player Character = a character written by someone else) and a NPC (Non Player Character = character that can be controlled by anybody/ introduced whenever you need a certain role to be filled). For example: you can always write a post of your character walking over the marketplace picking pockets left and right and showing off your characters skills. You can decide this, because in this situation you are targetting NPCs so nobody really cares what happens to them. If you instead try to rob a character that I write, then you usually don't finish your action. For example you could write something like that: Mike carefully moved slower towards the girl. The bag she had slug partially over her shoulder was open and he could see the corner of a pouch inside. Expertly he moved through the crowd until he was close enough. She was talking with some friends laughing loudly and it was easy to reach out into her bag and grab the purse. Then you would stop your post roughly at that point, give the other player a chance to react. That also means, that you depend on them having to play along, not noticing, or maybe noticing too late that someone stole from them, but the important part is, that you give them a chance. The same goes for an assassination. You can't decide whether another player's character dies or not. You can attack them stealthily, but you always need to give them a chance to react, to notice your attack and to evade. If you'd like to have a longer explanation about the whole "give a chance to react" topic, please take a look at this post: Number 1 godmodding is the one I'm refering to.

"Just a memory." Uneasily I shift my weight from one foot to the other. "It was a present from my sister." I try to explain, wonder if she doesn't know that we are allowed to bring one thing and one thing only. The marble is orange, with a few red streaks on its surface, making it look like a little sun. "She used to say, that it will keep me warm during the night, when we-" I trail off. There is no use to talk about missing coal to someone from the capitol. "When the nights were cold." I finish my sentence instead. "It's a lucky charm, so maybe it will offer you some of its luck as well."

Yes, it works fine! Have fun and welcome to the Alleyverse!

*wins*

Althea gave herself a moment to take the other man in, the way he cleaned his nails, how he held himself. Their business, so the two of them were working together. And yet, the Dustbringer tensed when the other one spoke, as if he wasn't agreeing, at least not with everything. "I haven't come to speak to you." she stated, crystalline eyes resting on him for a while longer, "Nor do I particularly care about your business." moving her head a little she looked at the Dustbringer again, the tense way he sat on his stool. His eyes were red, just like the wine he was drinking and she felt a wave of sympathy for him. With eyes like his, with eyes just like her own, he had probably faced a lot of the same things as a child than she had. Or maybe he hadn't. He came from a different place, from another world. Maybe those who lived there were more tolerant of those who were different, whose looks didn't match the general expectiation. She knew how she had to look, the light bright enough to reflect ifself several times on her eyes, the way they had to shine just like the wine in his glass. Focus. She told herself and concentrated again, on the situation. His eyes didn't matter, not here not now. Maybe latter. And yet the fact alone, that he was the first she met with the same color somehow changed it. She had to talk to him, see if she could help him. If he needed help, or if it was the way Max had suggested. A bad person, or a good one on the wrong path. The situation could explode any minute, she knew it from the way they behaved, how he had imhaled stormlight to ready himself for a battle. How she herself had refreshed her supply to be able to react, to defend herself should it be neccessary. "I came because of you." she said softly, lifted her glass to her lips again and took a sip, forcefully relaxing her posture in an attempt to disarm the situation. "I'm not armed." her free hand indicated her body, although he would know that she would be able to get her hands on a weapon should it be neccessary. There was no way, for him to have missed Brashen earlier. "I'd like to talk to you." she stated calmly, made sure she kept her anxiety, her nervousness carefully hidden behind a calm face. "About the hole and what happened there." Her voice skipped a little when the words brought back memories, when she recalled - later. Again a later, but a good later this time. She considered to add something else, to refer to the way he appeared, unhinged and partially out of control, but instead she kept quiet, watched for his reaction. It would hopefully give her another clue, tell her whether he would be open to talk at all. @Ashbringer @bees?

Surprised Mike closed his hand around the cloak, but never stopped running after the thief. The fabric was soft, way softer than anything he owned and for a second he pictured himself wearing this cloak, changing his course and running away, leaving Freya behind. Such a nice cloak could fetch quite a good price. A man ran past him, stumbled into the tavern, but Mike ignored him, discarded him as another drunk stumbling through the streets as the festival came to its end. Instead his feet continued to follow Freya, all thoughts of leaving her behind forgotten when he watcher her take down the thief in a single motion, easily tackling him to the ground and grabbing the bag from him in the same motion. Impressed he came to a halt in front of her, turned towards the thief his hand reaching for a knife. "Who are you?" he asked, after a short glance down at Freya, she wasn't hurt, at least not in a way he could see. The man, more a teen looked up at him, clutching his arm where he had fallen down on it. "Xaver." he replied and spat out, staggered to his look. "Look, you got me - now just let me go. No hard feelings man, just had to try. You were so focused on that girl of yours, it was like a piece of gold lying on the street, alone." Gritting his teeth Mike frowned. He was right, Xaver was right. Xaver. "Do I know you?" he asked he voice shaking. Xaver. Was that - no, the name wasn't right, there was something off, something strange. Xaver. It was close but still different and he found himself staring at the other one intensely. "I don't think so." Xaver replied and took a step back, as if preparing himself to flee.

Lena picked up a pen from his table and pointed it at the Anarchist. "Fascinating." she drawled and spun it in her hands. "And here is was thinking that showing up alone, was commitment enough." With a grin she tapped the pencil against her lips, never leaving her spot on his table. "I am good at disguising people - so I should be able to help to get everybody a slightly different look, make them harder to recognize." Her grin widened. "And I would love to take care of the guards - a good trader's guild has to have some guards." She winked at him, a gleam in her eyes. "And here I was, thinking you were a bore. But maybe, maybe you actually are quite interesting." ==========

With a smile Alrik opened his pouch and then pushed the according amount over the counter to Poller. "Here you are. Just send me a note once the vial is done. As for a metal, I think silver would be nice for the leaves. I like it's gleam and the way in reflects the sunlight. And it should go well with whatever she chooses to place inside." He rested his ellbows on the counter when another customer appeared, asking after some explosives. Interessting. He made sure to remember that face as well as whatever it was the man was buying and continued to smile. Cassandra was back in the store, dealing with the customer first before turning to him. "Of course you can help me." he repeated. "Although I have a distinct feeling you are very busy at the moment. But if you could spare a minute, I would love to talk about a larger offer that was delivered to me today, make sure it arrived at the right place."

I nodd, hesitantly wave at the other two who burst into the room. "If I win." I repeat, the idea alone seeming distant. A death row. The girl had pointed it out. It was a death row. Dying for the amusement of others. I hesitate and then lean forward, quickly press something into Ene's hand. It's an empty gesture, but I brought the marble from home and if I take with me, it will be lost the same way I will. At least this way, something from me, from my sister will live on, will be out of the hands of the vulptures waiting to see us die.

"The bathroom's not here." I reply and only when the words have left my mouth do I realize how they sound. Awardly I laugh, as if I made a joke, and then shake my head. "No, I'm not. I've never been here before." Before I was brought here to be polished up before getting killed. The thought easily snuffs out my laugh and I frown instead. "It's incredible." I say while tugging on the sleeves of the shirt they gave me. It fits me well, as if it was made for me, the color enhancing the green of my eyes and the blonde of my hair. "I wish I had a little more time to take a look around." the honesty in my words surprises even myself. The place is loud, bright, crowded, but if I had the time, I would love to take a look around.

Zokora walked through the long, dark tunnel, following the others. Her thoughts drifted this way and that way, and finally she paused, looking towards where the ceiling should be again. Fascinating. And scary. It was scary how the darkness went on and on and on, how it never seemed to stop and how somehow her own face looked down at her. She extended a hand, as if to touch something, her fingers reaching for nothing but air. She shook her head and turned back to the spec of light again, started towards it. The sounds of the others had vanished and she started to wonder how long exactly she had done nothing but stand here and stare at a wall that wasn't even there, when she finally stepped out into the light. "This way." Sera announced and flew off, searching for the path the others had taken. Zokora followed her carefully, made her way through the next room, at first trying not to step on any letter, but finally giving up and simply hurrying onwards. It took her a while to catch up, but she finally did saw KanMien and Kumiko, as well as Eiran and the voices of some others not too far away. "Sorry." she apologized when she stopped next to them, looked down at her hands. "I have to admit, I got completely distracted." @Silva

Grateful Mike shot her a glance before running towards the door. He pushed it open, nearly stumbling into a woman entering the tavern and then looked around. Running. He was running, but this time he wasn't the hunted one, this time he was the one hunting. And it felt good. For a moment his eyes cleared up a little, easily adjusted to the light outside and the turned his head to the left and right, tried to figure out where the thief had gone. He inhaled deeply, noticed how the air smelled like a night should, cool and moist. "There." he pointed to their right, at a figure walking through the streets, towards one of the more busier places at night. Trusting Freya with his back he conciously turned away from her and started to run, to follow the man.

"You can work with glass?" the man asked delighted at the prospect. "That opens so many more options - they could be coloured and - " he paused, then shook his head. "but no, I think that would be too much. Metal is enough." He smiled again, nodded towards the metal Poller had filled up. "What do I owe you for all of this?" he asked while reaching for his purse. "Let's settle the financials and then I can leave you or your boss to work on the vial."