ZincAboutIt
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Nerin looked the young man over, her amber eyes meeting his gold ones. "Not at all," she said, smiling. She held out her cigarette tin to him. "Want one? Jeb doesn't usually let me smoke indoors but the window's already open, so..." she shrugged. "I figured 'why not'? Tonight feels like the kind of evening to break rules."
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Nerin blew another stream of smoke out the ruined window, then gave a Brillin a little grin. "Let's leave tomorrow for tomorrow, eh? Tonight, we'll take you to a real party. Lucky for you, it's near the train depot. God beyond, but I could use a fast tune and a hard drink." Rene would be arriving soon, and then the broken window would be his problem. Nerin leaned on the windowsill, trying not to think about Lance or the Farriers or... anything. Rusts, but there were times she wished she could Soothe herself.
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"It was," Nerin said. "Before the Catacendre. Means 'you will die,' in a rough translation." She rolled her eyes.
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That rusting window is going to cost us good boxings, Nerin thought, fuming as she looked at the blown-out, twisted wreckage of metal. The worst part was, Lance was right - lining a window with metal was infinitely stupid. Nerin herself had warned Jeb about it. She stood, going to inspect the damage and pulling a little silver cigarette case from her pocket as she went, along with a book of matches. The match struck with a pleasant hiss and the scorched, rasping scent of sulfur. She lifted the match to a thin cigarette, then put it between her teeth. As she neared the window, something red caught her eye. Blood? She sucked on the cigarette, feeling the sharp burn of smoke on her tongue, and peered out the broken window. "Oh hell," Nerin said, leaning out the window to get a good look. Smoke puffed out into the night, mixing with the mists, though it couldn't obscure the word scrawled on the wall of the building opposite the parlor, paint still fresh and dripping red. She turned back to the rest of the parlor. "The rusting git defaced the wall," she fumed. Mouras indeed.
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Nerin sighed, realizing she probably spoke too harshly. She quickly Soothed some of Attayl's hurt, hoping to leave the interaction on a pleasant note. "Yes, I'll be there," she said, smiling at the girl. She knew what kind of work Attayl would be about this evening, and there was no reason to give her more misery. "Well," Nerin said, turning to Aben. "Welcome to the Seventh Octant." She gave a hollow little chuckle, then looked at Radyn. "I could ask around the neighborhood for your folks, if you'd like. I know a few people who know lots of people."
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Nerin watched Lance Pull himself back out the broken window with an odd mixture of irritation and appreciation. It was no easy thing, aiming backwards like that. "What a complete nob," Nerin said, arms still folded. I bet he practiced that. She threw up her arms, spinning on her heel to catch Attayl smiling slyly at her. Nerin narrowed her eyes at the young woman. "What?" She snapped, trying to force the color out of her cheeks and keep a smile off her own face. As if I didn't have enough smug people to worry about. She flopped back into her armchair, resting her chin in her hands and praying that Rene would show up to his shift early. @Sorana
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Harmony, I think I hate this man. Nerin sniffed, chewing on her tongue. "Well, there's no accounting for taste these days." She walked closer, lowering her voice. "If there is anything you can tell me about these people that is more than rumor, I want to know. Nothing's for free, I know that," she tapped the toe of her heeled boot against the wood floor, feeling it crunch slightly against a shard of window glass. "You came here of your own accord, bringing a warning. And don't pull that 'heartless mercenary' act with me. That sort of person doesn't just soar in through windows and proclaim dire news. So, you know what I want. What do you want in return?" As she spoke, she wove a subtle current around the man, hoping to be so delicate he wouldn't notice. He wanted to tell her, she could feel it. It would appeal to his sense of drama. She just needed to give him room to act on it. Come on... she thought. You want to negotiate? Let's negotiate. Regale me with your vast and terrible knowledge.
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"Sounds good to me," Lita said, sliding another cookie off the dessert plate. "These are amazing, by the way." She took a bite, chewing happily. If she was going to die soon, at least she'd have this to recall as she slipped into the great beyond. "It'll be far easier for me to move in the Precursor ranks as myself than if we went into PlasmaCore. As far as I can tell, no one in the Precursors knows me."
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Renata flinched a little when Lizanne touched her, but forced herself to relax. She shrugged a bit. "Maybe if we were back in the Alleycity, we could find someone, some way. But here?" Renata shook her head. "I'm no Knight Radiant. That blade," she pointed to the Shardblade in Lisa's hand, "cuts right through a thing, right to the soul. That's why the eyes burn. I saw some wounds like that in Jah Keved. I..." Her voice faltered, memories of the civil war echoing through her mind. She clenched her hands into fists, then sighed. "I'm sorry."
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Renata glanced around, panicked, when Lizanne mentioned the eye, though it was nowhere to be seen. She wrapped her arms around herself, then looked at Lisa's arm. Definitely a shardblade cut. "There's no healing that," she said quietly, nodding towards the arm, which hung grey and lifeless at Lisa's side. "It'll be that way forever... I'm sorry." @Sorana @kenod
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Nerin Soothed away some of Attayl's disappointment, though she largely backed off on everyone's Soothing. Things might be getting dangerous around here, and it was never good to be too calm in a situation like that. She turned to Lance, arms folded. "Well, I hope you're happy," she said acidly. "So far, you've broken my window, not paid for anything, upset my customers and now frightened away a dance partner." @Invocation
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Nerin sighed, then nodded. ”Next train going out is probably first thing next morning,” she said to Brillin. “I don’t blame you for cutting and running - it’s what I’d do. I apologize for such a raucous evening in here.” She stood, then took a sip of her wine and sheathed her hairpin daggers, carefully tucking them back into her deep brown curls. “There’s a man in the Fourth Octant that sells travel rations - he owes me a favor. You’ll find him at Kevan’s General Store, name of Tanner. Tell him Nerin sent you. If he charges you anything more than half price you just start talking about syrup. Should put the fear of Harmony in him.” @I think I am here.
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"Nothing happened in the night," Renata answered, beginning to help Lizanne poke around in the rubble for bits of broken mirror glass. "That lighteyed woman - Aderet? She may have a mirror. Seems the type. What do you need it for, anyway?" @Sorana
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YES YES YES I will work on this!! -
Renata waved back at Lizanne, rubbing her eyes. She'd watched the sun slowly rise, half-expecting it to be some kind of bloody red nightmare. But, it seemed that day here was rather like day everywhere. That was good. She stood up and stretched, feeling her back and neck pop satisfyingly. One of the apples still lay in her pocket, and she took it out, biting into the chalky flesh. It wasn't great, but it was better than nothing. Lizanne stood a ways off, doing her own stretching. Renata wandered over. "Sleep well?" She asked. "Or, well enough?" @Sorana
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Nerin rolled her eyes. Beyond my ken indeed. "Please," she drawled. "There's nothing subtle about you." His position next to her chair put her eyes right about level with the middle of his stomach. Nerin watched him shift his weight from one foot to the other, one long finger tap against his flask. I'd bet my own blouse there's iron flakes in there. She took in his mistcoat, the deep black of his shirt and pants. He did cut rather a fine figure, if a little ridiculous. Probably looks much better outside. Nerin imagined him standing atop a building, the lights of Elendel spread out below him, mistcoat tassels curling in the wind... With a start, Nerin realized she'd been quietly staring at the taut, lean expanse of Lance's abdomen for at least a solid minute. God beyond, she thought, feeling the color rise to her face, pull yourself together Nerin. She took another drink of wine. Everyone, wonderful. She pointedly avoided looking at Lance's face, feeling her cheeks redden further. Well, she wasn't a spy for Harmony's sake, it wasn't her job to talk to people about their rusting gang signs. Nerin exhaled sharply through her nose and rubbed her temples. "Right, well, what has everybody heard - aside from me?" She turned to the other men in the room. "Have either of you heard of this group?" @Dr. Dapper
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Ah, so it's a negotiation you want. Nerin took a sip from her wine glass and nodded slowly. She pointed to the seat opposite her. "Please sit, I want a better vantage to watch what will surely be a parade of smug, priggish expressions waltz across your face as we talk. Don't worry, I don't bite," she winked, then folded her hands before her. Just then, Attayl spoke up. "Were they here?" Nerin turned. "You know them?" She held the scrap of paper out to Attayl. "Is this their sign?" @Sorana
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Nerin very nearly spilled her new glass of wine all over herself. She looked up at Lance, eyes narrowing. A Steelrunner too? That was the only possibility - she'd seen him iron-pull through the window... hadn't she? Later, Nerin. Those questions are for later. She held up the scrap of paper with the symbol scratched onto it. "My boss received a sheet of paper with this drawn onto the bottom corner just this evening. Does it belong to these Farriers you keep talking about?"
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Nerin cocked her head at Lance's latest refusal. Had he seemed a bit more...serious? But no, there he went, chatting up the fellow in the white hood. "Right," she muttered, somehow feeling even more irritated. "Well, I'm getting a drink." Nerin stalked out of the parlor room, still maintaining a generic Soothing to avoid jarring the patrons. What a shift. She wandered up to the bar, where Jeb gave her a knowing smile. "More wine?" He asked. A low chuckle bubbled out of his mouth when she nodded, and suddenly her overwhelm and general irritation lessened. Jeb poured her another glass of the fine red and set it on the counter. "Rusts, that's nice," Nerin groaned, resisting the urge to put her head on the counter. "Now I know why they pay us." "Well, if ya want more it'll cost ya," Jeb waggled his black-and-silver eyebrows suggestively. Nerin rolled her eyes and took a drink. "The Lord Mistborn in there claims to have some kind of ridiculous news about a new gang shaking things up in the area. Call themselves 'the Farriers,' apparently. Heard anything?" Nerin expected Jeb to scoff and make some kind of scathing quip of his own, but instead the older man paled at least two shades. "What did he call them?" Jeb whispered hoarsely. He scrambled in his pockets and pulled out a piece of paper, tearing off the bottom corner and sliding the slip toward Nerin. She took it, squinting. "The Farriers," Nerin said. Was that the symbol for tin? It looked more like... "A horseshoe," she breathed. She looked up at Jeb. "Hell." Jeb nodded. "Indeed. Now, you go back in there and you get some answers, my girl. Or we'll be findin' out the hard way sooner or later." Nerin took her wine in one hand, paper in the other, and went into the parlor's back room. She resumed her seat, sipping the wine and eyeing Lance, trying to decide how best to corner him and figure out just how much he actually knew about these Farriers.
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"I see you've finished your drink," Nerin cut in, pointing at his now-empty flask. She kept Soothing him. Come on, you masked dandy, you're not a Coppercloud. You're not wearing aluminum. Why can't I rusting Soothe you. "Are you sure I can't tempt you?" She half-expected the whole parlor to ask her for a drink with how much brass she was burning. Oh, it's a contest now you fop. She grinned at him, all teeth.
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Nerin stood up when she heard the two men draw their swords, hands out as if to calm a pack of wild animals. Swords? Really? She laid on a heavy soothing, trying to keep a fight from breaking out. A Lurcher was a dangerous opponent to fight, and there were any number of unpleasant ways to die that Nerin had no interest in exploring. She dropped her smirk and looked Lance full in the face. "You break in here - literally break in - then proceed to taunt me, allude to my dishonesty, and make vague, threatening auguries about gang wars and changes." Nerin put her hands on her hips, drawing herself up to her full height - which wasn't particularly tall. Still, it couldn't hurt. "The logical question is, of course, whose side are you on, Master Lance?" @Invocation
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Nerin felt a tiny frown crease the space between her brows, and she quickly smoothed it away. The war? Nerin glanced toward the door back to the bar, thinking to ask Jeb, but she didn’t wish to bother him so soon after the broken window. Best to get this fellow talking and see if it was all just hot air. He’d said the Farriers, hadn’t he? As though it were a title. A gang, perhaps? Her mind went to Jeb’s unusually quiet moods of late, the increasing demands that the Scarlets were putting on the Hollows. She began unconsciously tapping her finger against the arm of her chair, still staring into the man’s smug face. ”Can’t say that I have,” Nerin said, feigning disinterest. “And I happen to hear quite a bit. I’m no Tineye, but people do talk when they’re in here. What can I say? I have an honest face.” She gave him back some of that cocksure impudence she’d been trying to Soothe, hoping the jolt to his ego would get him to tell her what he was talking about. @Invocation
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Nerin gritted her teeth. Rusts, he should be begging me for a drink by now. She countered his smirk with one of her own, torn between irritation and fascination with the man. ”Have I heard of farriers? Yes, I’d dare say a lifetime of horse drawn carriage rides will do that.”
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Nerin raised her hands to forestall any angry outbursts, sending out a more powerful soothing across the room on all tempers involved. "It's fine, Jeb," she said, then gestured to Atmose. "Maybe you could do something about all this glass?" She smiled apologetically, sending the boy a little soothing of his own, making him more amenable to her request. "There's a broom in the hall cupboard." @Emperor Stick She turned back to the Lurcher, Lance, and redoubled her efforts on him. You want a soothing? I'll give you one. That's quite a bit of confidence you have there, you don't need all of that. Now sit there, and don't break anymore of my rusting parlor. Nerin gave him a sweet smile that didn't reach her eyes. "Can I offer you a drink?"
