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Trading Futures
Posted: Mon Sep 05, 2022 2:08 am
by Barbatos
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The Sellsword awoke in a cold sweat.
Barbatos' day began the very same once again. Before the rays of morning peaked over the mountains, the sable-skinned man's eyes flung open. The visions which played before his mind's eye were yet fresh, and frantic blinks attempted to remind Barbatos that it was not real. He was not standing in the blighted streets of Zaichaer. He was not looking over what little remained of his father. No. He was in Kalzasi, in his bed, in a home he had purchased with his own coin. Ah, but then his eyes began to water. The sting of reality settled in as he forced himself upright. He may not have been in Zaichaer. He may have just awoken from a dream. But the contents within were very much so accurate. He kept reliving that moment each night. And each day, his heart demanded a reprieve.
But there never was one. For the world did not wait on men to shed tears. The world kept turning and Barbatos had to push forward. Thus, like each day since he came to Kalzasi, the Sellsword buried himself in his work.
This day, an opportunity had arisen that required collaboration with a few others. The warrior's experience was such that he was no stranger to working in a group - for he often took jobs with his sire and his "uncles" as a team. From what Barbatos gathered, the task was simply mission to guard a foreign trader whilst he set about his meetings for the day. The House which had commissioned the task did not see the trader's value as enough to warrant using their own manpower, but he was valuable enough to warrant protection. Perhaps, Barbatos conjectured, the trader overvalued himself and this was merely a concession of sorts. No matter. He had been in Kalzasi for two weeks and already the machinations of the elite were making his mind dizzy.
By early morning the team had been assembled and met the trader. He was an aging man with almond-shaped eyes and raven hair. His attire was just as vibrant as the Houses within the city - a fact which would draw attention if left alone. Barbatos was reminded of old lessons imparted by his father about the rich versus the wealthy. Specifically that the rich felt the need to show off how much money they had, whilst the wealthy had no such inclinations. Nonetheless, so long as the Sellsword was paid, he wouldn't pay any mind. For the first few hours of the day, Barbatos rotated with his team. At times, he would tarry at the door with another of the squad. At others, he would venture inside of whichever building the trader entered and stand only a few paces off.
The trader, himself, seemed to not have pressing matters to attend to. They bounced from establishment to establishment, most of which the trader made simple purchases or made conversation.
Barbatos mentally checked out due to boredom, allowing only instinct to steer the ship. That is, until the Sellsword saw where they were headed next. Within one of the local trading areas, there was a woman situated. A woman who drew attention to herself, but also was off-putting at the same time. Some drew near out of curiosity whilst others judged her appearance and hurried away. For those who were brave, coin was given and a glimpse at the morrow was offered. Barbatos' eyes crept into a light smile at the sight, for she was no stranger. He wanted to go over, but his duties prevented him from doing so. Fortune, however, placed the trader's attention upon the ivory-haired Siltori. Emboldened by the guards at his back, he strode into her presence and sat down.
"So you tell the future?" he asked.
Barbatos took point, standing at the man's side. He said nothing at first, but offered the one called Faelora a warm smile.
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Re: Trading Futures
Posted: Tue Sep 06, 2022 3:35 am
by Faelora
T R A D I N G F U T U R E S
15th of Searing, 122
Within the city walls, Faelora was like a caged animal.
Perhaps this was why - even after what had happened to her - she had chosen a nomadic life on the roads. Her sleep was sporadic, interrupted by bouts of frustrated pacing to and fro in her room. By now, the stable master had learned to simply let the strange-looking elf venture in to see her horse in the wee hours of the morning, and more than once he had happened upon her after dawn, having chosen to snuggle up to the great beast rather than her own bed.
But one thing the city had was clients, in abundance.
It might not appear so, as for every ten or even twenty people that happened upon her where she sat, only one might approach and dare to ask the witch for their fortune. However, even before the sun reached its peak, she had read more palms than she might see in three days on the road.
At one point she had spied a group of children, taunting and daring one another to approach her. In particular, they seemed to be picking on a little girl, perhaps the youngest but easily the smallest in the group. Her dress had patches and her shoes didn't match, her hair had knots in it and she seemed like an easy target. They were too far away for the Siltori to do much, but eventually, with the rest of the group snickering to themselves, the little one timidly approached, tears welling up in her huge green eyes and her grubby hands tucked protectively under her chin.
"E-excuse me, miss?" She stammered, almost blubbering right there "d-do you... d-do... do you... have... I'm sorry!"
The elven witch, clad in all her terrible finery, kneeled down to be level with the girl. She resisted the urge to scoop her up in a hug as she knew the group was watching not far off. Instead, she placed her hand under the little thing's chin and lifted her eyes,
"Shh, it's alright, child," she soothed, "I have just what you need."
Sniffling, the little girl watched with eyes wide as the Siltori pulled off one of her many necklaces. It was a mink skull adorned with a crystal and dangling feathers and fur, fashioned to a leather cord.
"This will watch over you whenever someone talks to you," she continued, "if it does not like what they say, it will give them nightmares. As long as you wear it, you will have someone on your side. Keep it close to you, alright?"
She placed the talisman around the girl's neck, and sent her back to the others. She watched as they first laughed, but soon seemed to go quiet with reverent awe... She would have kept watching except another man approached where she sat.
"So, you tell the future?"
Faelora took in the appearance of the man asking her his question... and then the familiar mercenary at his side. She returned Barbatos's warm greeting smile with one of her own before laying out her hands and beckoning him to lay his upon them.
"That depends, Sir" she answered, a mysterious hush to her words, "are you ready to hear it?"
Re: Trading Futures
Posted: Thu Sep 08, 2022 12:28 am
by Barbatos
The Sellsword did not know what to expect.
When the sable-skinned man had first encountered the knife-eared woman, their worlds could not have been more different. Faelora presented herself as a woman who did not prefer the embrace of city walls, but rather traveled the roads. In fact, they met outside of her tent on the road leading south from Kalzasi. From that day, Barbatos gained the impression that she was different. Not in a negative way, mind, but simply different when compared to those who lived within the confines of Kalzasi - or the late Zaichaer for that matter.
Thus, when the trader decided to make his way over to the fortuneteller, Barbatos found an interesting scene unfolding.
From her seat within the square, it was no secret that Faelora was drawing the eyes of others. She was a stark contrast to the typical goingson, after all. And, while most adults would keep their distance or mutter under their breaths, children did not follow "social conventions." They did not keep their distance, even at their peril. They spoke the truth without care for ramifications - such as pointing out when one's outfit choice for the day is awful. Children simply did as they pleased. And in this instance, one decided to draw near to the Siltori woman.
Barbatos did not know whether or not Faelora would regard the urchin in the same way as she did her steed Azazoth, or if she would bare her fangs. It seemed, however, that the knife-eared woman chose the latter. Though he could not make out what she was saying due to the distance, he did hear the tone. Her voice was gentle and she placed a necklace over the child's head. Soon, the little one scampered on her way, and the trader saw fit to make his inquiry.
Before answering, their eyes met. She offered a warm smile in return - a fact which gladdened the Sellsword. But, then it was onto business. She offered her hands, beckoning for the man to lay his own upon them. And as she did, a question fell from her lips. Her tone was similar to when she read Barbatos' own palm. There was...an enticing edge. As if she were stoking the flame to draw in the moth. Barbatos couldn't help but give his undivided attention, curious to what would transpire.
The Trader was similarly captivated. His hands eagerly fell upon her own. "Absolutely. Tell me everything."
Barbatos could only assume he was expecting good news to come from this. But he remembered how their first meeting was. What was written upon one's hand was similar to children - it did not care for what they wanted, it simply did as it pleased.
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Re: Trading Futures
Posted: Thu Sep 08, 2022 1:27 am
by Faelora
Inwardly, Faelora grinned, as the man was eagerly lured in by her warning. In truth, while it wasn't untrue, her sombre words about being ready to hear what she had to say, served more to lure in potential clients than to repel them. Who, after all, could resist the fruit they've been told they shouldn't have?
Once more, as the trader in front of her was distracted by her charms and talismans, she flashed a brief glance up to Barbatos. She had read his own palm some time ago, and had fulfilled a client request with him present, but he had yet to see her on full show; her charisma, her wit, her costume on full display to draw in customers who hadn't sought her out on their own. It was exciting, and her cheeks warm as she realised... she was hoping to impress him.
Attention snapped back to her client, and her features flashed with mystery.
"Well then," she mused, leaning forward and allowing her talismans to jangle, "everything it is."
The woman took her time to por over the lines and markings on her client's hand. His hands were soft, clean, free of blemishes and callouses; she didn't need magic to tell her that he came from status. Her fingertips trailed over the lines of his palm, occasionally her other hand pulled his wrist in closer, which delighted the witch as she felt him tense with trepidation.
keeping her head down, she let her eyes flicker up to him, now fully in character,
"Afraid I'll see something?" She asked in a low tone, a tiny, knowing smirk tugging at the corners of her lips "you can't keep secrets from spirits..."
Again, the trader reacted as if to a drug or a fine wine, eagerly drawn deeper into her web.
"Not afraid at all" He assured her.
Perfect.
"You came from a long line of strong blood," she began, "... of good men."
The Siltori's head canted slightly to one side as she began to actually pay attention to what she saw. Her next words held more of a genuine, even intrigued tone,
"You have been a good man, too. Your compassion is one of your greatest strengths, although it holds you back, somewhat. You... you are destined for great things, Sir. There is a guardian watching over you, maybe an ancestor or a servant of the gods. You will bring about the end to an old feud."
She glanced up, peering into the eyes of the man,
"But you are not going to grow old."
Her words trailed off, her features falling, almost apologetic of the statement now left lingering in the air between them.
Re: Trading Futures
Posted: Thu Sep 08, 2022 5:25 am
by Barbatos
It was pure fortune that the Trader's focus was solely upon the fortuneteller.
In truth, the wealthy man was not the only one with eyes transfixed upon the ivory-haired woman. With charms and talismans rattling slightly, it was only natural for the eye to wander to the source. Yet, Barbatos had seen this woman before - he had eaten with her, chatted with her...but his gaze remained lured all the same. He couldn't quite put a finger on it, whether it was curiosity or something else, but the sable-skinned man could not bring himself to look away. It was pure fortune that the Trader was equally occupied, lest he get testy for one of his guardsmen gawking.
Barbatos' fellows were far too bored of the day already to truly pay the fortunetelling much mind. Though one in particular was skeeved out. A burly man with a fiery mane remained at the rear of the group. And as the Trader placed his hands in hers, he mumbled a silent plea to the gods. Truly, all eyes were on the fortuneteller...and she seemingly endeavored not to disappoint.
She agreed to show the man everything and took her time. She flipped his hands over in hers, gazing upon his palms. Barbatos found himself being reminded of their first meeting and how she did the same. Yet, that day, beside the campfire...it felt different than what he was witnessing. This seemed far more deliberate, far more intentional - yet their meeting seemed...closer? He hesitated to think the word intimate as she spoke again, asking if the man was afraid that she would see something.
Yet the Trader was as a moth drawn to an inferno. He was not afraid of what she would find in the slightest - and his enthusiasm caused Barbatos to smirk. Then came the glimpse into the morrow. Faelora began with confirmation of the past - the very same as she had with Barbatos during his own reading - before advising the man of the future. She confirmed his seemingly noble roots...and then shared a rather auspicious - yet bleak - view of the future. The man wasn't going to see old age? Given how the continent was acting as of late, Barbatos was hardly surprised.
The Trader, oddly enough, seemed enthused. He seemed to be far more focused upon being destined for great things than he was about an early grave. As she finished her statement, he retracted his hands, giving one arm a light pump. "I knew it!" he began. "All this work wasn't for nothing." The Trader then babbled about his hard work for a few more moments, but it went in one ear and out the other for the Sellsword. However, what snapped the man back to reality was the jingle of coin.
Nothing in this world was free, especially not a glimpse into the morrow. And thus, he deposited the fortuneteller's fee into her hands. "Thank you kindly, miss." he said, before turning to the mercenaries. "As for you gentlemen, I'll be needing your services later. For now..." he began, before pointing to two of Barbatos' fellows. "You and you, accompany me to the villa. The rest of you are dismissed. Return tomorrow at first meal."
And with that, Barbatos was a "free" man, at least until the next day. His fellows quickly dispersed and went on their own way - leaving the sable-skinned man and the ivory-haired woman alone. Well, "relatively" alone, as there were quite a few patrons still shopping all about. The Sellsword smiled and stepped forward. "You know...I don't recall you looking deep into my future when you read mine." he said, a hint of teasing in his tone.
What wasn't teasing was the extension of his dominant hand. "I'm curious." he began, tone lowering slightly. "Will I...end up like my folks?" Specifically, would his life be cut short cruelly and abruptly by the whims of the gods or nature? Would he be prematurely snatched from this life by matters outside of his control? Barbatos...had no reason to doubt the skill of Faelora, and so now she'd finally have that chance she craved: to peek into his morrow.
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Re: Trading Futures
Posted: Fri Sep 09, 2022 6:53 am
by Faelora
This was her favourite part.
Admittedly, the girl had been concerned about how the last part of her reading would fall, as it was not often that someone would take kindly to learning they would die before their time. However, her client either hadn't taken it to heart, or had already figured he would see such a fate and wasn't bothered by the confirmation.
His reaction was part of the reason she continued to do what she did.
The Siltori couldn't help but let her mysterious composure slip for just a moment, enjoying a broad grin at his celebration. Perhaps to the surprise of anyone who cared to observe, it actually faded a little as payment was deposited into her hands. Her cheeks blushed with shame and she was quick to hide the payment in her coin purse. It felt... shameful, predatory almost, to seek payment for these services sometimes. How did a healer do it? Give such an intimate, personal service, and then require gold for it? They had to, of course, but Faelora still didn't enjoy the feeling.
The trader dismissed a few of his men - including, to Faelora's delight, Barbatos. She fought to contain her glee at the kind turn of fate at least until the two were alone again.
Her bright eyes were fixed intently upon the warrior as he spoke, asking a question that gave the girl pause.
To answer, she reached out and beckoned for his hand, to lay upwards in her own so she could point and trace her fingers over the lines as she spoke.
"That's because I didn't look," she explained, "a person's lifeline is the longest and usually the thickest of the major lines. While I can follow it along and see what intersects with it, where, and also when and sometimes how it ends, I don't always look unless the client specifically asks. I... can tell you, if you really like, but I want to warn you first; this is not something that can be taken back. Men had gone mad because of what I've shown them."
She paused, lifting her eyes to his. In that moment, she felt an urge. Not entirely sure exactly what drove her, Faelora raised a hand, reaching gently for one of the dreadlocks that rested about his head. If he let her, she would simply adjust how it rested slightly.
"Would you like me to tell you?"
That final question meant one thing: whatever he chose, she now carried the burden of his fate.
Re: Trading Futures
Posted: Tue Sep 13, 2022 12:22 am
by Barbatos
Veiled behind the guise of vigilance, the sable-skinned man's gaze was unwavering.
While it should have remained trained upon the wealthy trader, he could not help but wander. His eyes watched, even as the trader expresseed his...surprising levels of satisfaction with his fortune. They remained upon her features, taking in the smile she afforded herself - followed immediately by a look of resignation when she received payment. Barbatos' eyebrow raised inquisitively, for in his profession being paid was the best part. He did not understand the quiet conflict roiling within the Siltori's mind, and thus did not comment.
Instead, once his dismissal for the day reached his ears, he approached the woman. Though they were surrounded by the hustle and bustle of the afternoon, Barbatos could barely hear the noise. He teased at first, remarking that Faelora had not gazed into his future on the day of their first meeting. His hands were hers for a few moments, and the gentle chime of her voice was a contrast to the words. Her touch was light, tracing upon the lines upon his palms.
And as her fingertips moved, the Sellsword found heat rushing to his face. It was an odd sensation and wildly out of place. He cleared his throat lightly to distract himself from this reality, before offering a light nod. "The life I lead is full of risk," he began, "and already, I have lost. My home. My family. Men have been driven mad for far less." He spared a thought to whether he would have been driven mad himself. He worked so tirelessly to keep his mind off things...if he let that creeping agony finally take hold, would that be the end of his sanity?
Not if he had anything to say about it.
It was the reach of her hand that pulled him from this thought. Unmoving, he allowed her to grace his hair with a touch - a fact which lit a wildfire across his face. But there was still the question she posed. Still the matter of knowing what ills or joys awaited him in the future.
"Yes." he answered. "If I have a clue of what's coming...well...I'll make the best of what time I have left."
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Re: Trading Futures
Posted: Tue Sep 13, 2022 1:00 am
by Faelora
Would you like me to tell you?
Before he even spoke, the witch had something of an idea of what Barbatos might say.
By now, she had known the mercenary long enough to see something of the way of his mind, and she had never known him to be one to shy away from risk or danger. She had expected his decision to leave her feeling conflicted; after all, it was no tender thing to tell someone about how they would die. However, to her own surprise, the Siltori felt... a sense of honour? To be granted the unique privilege into the fate of such a warrior.
Once again, she gently reached to take his hand in hers, to trace her fingers down his lifeline. In truth, the elf would have just been glad for the excuse to touch him again, to enjoy the sensation of his pulse under his skin, to listen to his breaths as she stood before him...
ahem
Pulling herself from her thoughts, she spoke, keeping her gaze on his palm,
"Like your employer," she began, her tone sombre, "your lifeline does not taper off around your hand like it would if you were going to grow old. It's longer than his, but... Someone will betray you, someone you're close to. That will lead to your death."
As the words left her lips, Faelora pulled up her own palm, laying it out next to his. While she was making no effort to conceal it, the girl was counting on the man not being able to see what she saw. She glanced at her own lifeline, how it ended just as suddenly.
Her thoughts began to wander again, but this time to somewhere darker. Swallowing, she closed her fingers over her palm and dropped it,
"I should add, I'm not always right," She qualified, "or perhaps... we do have the power to change our fate. Maybe knowing is what does that."
Re: Trading Futures
Posted: Tue Sep 13, 2022 1:20 am
by Barbatos
The Siltori's touch departed from his hair, yet the wildfire remained all the same.
Despite this, the Sellsword gave his answer. Thus far, he had lost so much. His home. His family. All that he had known and loved went up in smoke. It was not the war that brought such devastation to his world. It was not as though he could track down those responsible and exact vengeance. No. The whims of the so-called gods were what destroyed them. What Barbatos ultimately wanted to know was if his fate was his own to shape? Or would he fall victim to the whims of the "divine" like his family had.
Soon, Faelora's fingertips began their journey upon his flesh.
And this time, he felt his heart begin to thunder away in his chest. There was...a moment of doubt. A moment where he was unsure if he truly wanted to know. A moment of fear - what if he was just as doomed as his parents? What if he was meant to perish that day and he was living on borrowed time? What if, what if, what if...yet Barbatos shut his eyes for a moment. He steeled himself, forcing the fear down his gullet in the same manner as he did grief.
It was only when the knife-eared woman spoke again that his eyes opened. She shared with him the truth of his fate - that he would live longer than the wealthy man who employed him...but not by much. Someone would betray him, someone close. Someone trusted, and that would lead to his death. As she spoke, she laid out her own palm beside his own. And in that moment, he could see a truth written upon her own porcelain skin. Her life was fated to end just as abruptly.
"I see." he began, voice soft. His dominant hand then coiled into a fist within her touch. Confidence soon returned to his voice. Determination. "Then, you have given me the greatest gift. I know that I will not die because of some divine fluke. No storm of dread will smite me from this world."
His offhand then raised her open palm, as if he was going to expect it further. Instead, driven by wildfire, his lips graced her skin. He lingered for but a moment before touching his brow to her palm as well.
"You have my thanks, Faelora. You are a true friend."
As he released her, his dominant hand then moved to his coin purse, for nothing in this world was free. Especially not if one was obtaining a service from a friend.
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Re: Trading Futures
Posted: Tue Sep 13, 2022 1:41 am
by Faelora
That will lead to your death
There is something intimate about holding someone else's hand in one's own. Perhaps it's because they are the means through which we feel. Faelora figured it was because they literally spelled out one's own life and fate. Maybe it was simply the touch of another human, and hands were just the first and most common thing to touch.
Whichever it was, she could feel a mote of the emotions rushing through the mercenary as he stood before her; his muscles tighten with fear, the wavering uncertainty, the determination. Words could lie, but bodies could not. But she had made him a promise, and so the witch pressed on, delivering the news to the warrior.
For the briefest of moments, silence fell between them; a somber mote of reverence at the mutual understanding of their own mortality. For the Siltori, however, she wrestled with another thought. She didn't know how many more the Sable-skinned warrior had that he considered close, but in the absence of such, she wondered... for the briefest of moments... whether she...
No. She would never. She could never. Besides, it was uncharacteristically presumptuous of her to consider herself among his closest and most trusted; after such little time.
To her relief, he spoke, banishing the witch of her thoughts. She was relieved, and found peace, in hearing that his own thoughts were much more grounded than hers, that he was grateful that he did not share in the fate of his parents.
"It's the least I could do." She replied quietly.
He leaned down and placed a lingering kiss upon her ivory skin, and the Siltori felt her knees grow weak. In that moment, she didn't care what the future would bring; she was eager for more time with this man, as much as she could get.
The warrior gave her thanks, but then she noticed him starting to move to his coin purse. Without thinking, she reached out placed her fingers around his forearm, attempting to pull his hand away,
"Please... I don't enjoy getting paid even when my clients specifically come to me with coin. It feels... like I'm doing something wrong, spitting in the face of the spirits. Veiled knowledge is precious. It would be kinder of you to keep it... maybe buy me dinner sometime."