Patrollogs
(Isaiah's bargaining)
[Tue Sep 17 2024]
In Town Hall Northern Meeting Room
It is about 60F(15C) degrees.
"Jayarr Reegan," Isaiah introduces herself to the representative of The Lost politely as she makes her way towards the table, her tiny self hopping up onto the edge with some effort, especially since one of her dainty hands is holding onto a box of strawberry pocky. She plucks one of the sticks out of the container and settles it between her teeth, lightly nibbling off the tip and then chewing halfway down like a rabbit before wiping any crumbs from her face. "I run the Forged Fortune. Let's talk."
Emmanuel jogs into the room, all sorts of wet, and wary-eyed, especially on spotting Isaiah already there, "Ah," The man blurts out, and makes his way over toward representative of The Lost, "Emmanuel Baptiste, hm? Disruptor. I am thinking that many of our goals are being aligned, hm? Freeing those from the terrible claw of monsters, and their overreach?" He elaborates to them, trying to catch his breath all the while.
"You might be being called The Lost, hm? But there is non reason we cannot 'find' a common cause in one another." Emmanuel further sells himself and his group, gesturing as he speaks, "We are fighting against the same menace as you are, those who are thinking they have the right to treat us as little more than toys, or playthings, something to enjoy and discard at their whimming, non?"
Isaiah grins faintly when Emmanuel walks in; soggy, breathless, and yet she doesn't seem disturbed by his appearance. She herself is drip-drying as she munches on a strawberry-coated stick of pocket from her perch upon the meeting table, shifting to the side when Emmanuel approaches to speak. Her sapphire eyes glitter with amusement as she listens to him speak, one of her pink-clawed index fingers slowly pushing the treat deeper into her mouth until there's just a firm *crunch* followed by chewing. Then, she reaches into her box and grabs another.
There's a flick of Emmanuel's gaze aside to Isaiah as he searches her for a symbol, and eventually finds it, clucking his tongue, "Oh, well, this should be an easy decision, non? This women is representing the sorts that work with your oppressor, after all," He slyly intones, affording her a double-look at the crunch of the pocky. "I am imagining that the Fortune would be jumping at the opportunity to get their hands on some of gold from the Golden City, after all. It is being the nature of the mercenary."
"Not entirely true," Isaiah says, crossing her thick but petite right thigh over the equally shapely left. "We're mercenaries, yeah- but I run them. And I don't fuck with the Fae. Hate most of them, in fact. Especially the older ones," she reveals, eyeballing her virginal pocky stick before biting it in half with a satisfied hum. "You give us cash, we do a job. That's how mercenaries work. So... Say there was a particularly nasty Fairy you wanted removed from existence..." She lets her voice trail, as though the representative of The Lost could finish that thought for themselves, or even imagine the possibilities, before she's turning to look back at someone wordlessly, just watching him in silence.
"Not entirely true," Isaiah says, crossing her thick but petite right thigh over the equally shapely left. "We're mercenaries, yeah- but I run them. And I don't fuck with the Fae. Hate most of them, in fact. Especially the older ones," she reveals, eyeballing her virginal pocky stick before biting it in half with a satisfied hum. "You give us cash, we do a job. That's how mercenaries work. So... Say there was a particularly nasty Fairy you wanted removed from existence..." She lets her voice trail, as though the representative of The Lost could finish that thought for themselves, or even imagine the possibilities, before she's turning to look back at Emmanuel wordlessly, just watching him in silence.
Isaiahs Bargaining 240918
(Isaiah's bargaining)
[Tue Sep 17 2024]
In Town Hall Northern Meeting Room
It is about 60F(15C) degrees.
"Jayarr Reegan," Isaiah introduces herself to the representative of The Lost politely as she makes her way towards the table, her tiny self hopping up onto the edge with some effort, especially since one of her dainty hands is holding onto a box of strawberry pocky. She plucks one of the sticks out of the container and settles it between her teeth, lightly nibbling off the tip and then chewing halfway down like a rabbit before wiping any crumbs from her face. "I run the Forged Fortune. Let's talk."
Emmanuel jogs into the room, all sorts of wet, and wary-eyed, especially on spotting Isaiah already there, "Ah," The man blurts out, and makes his way over toward representative of The Lost, "Emmanuel Baptiste, hm? Disruptor. I am thinking that many of our goals are being aligned, hm? Freeing those from the terrible claw of monsters, and their overreach?" He elaborates to them, trying to catch his breath all the while.
"You might be being called The Lost, hm? But there is non reason we cannot 'find' a common cause in one another." Emmanuel further sells himself and his group, gesturing as he speaks, "We are fighting against the same menace as you are, those who are thinking they have the right to treat us as little more than toys, or playthings, something to enjoy and discard at their whimming, non?"
Isaiah grins faintly when Emmanuel walks in; soggy, breathless, and yet she doesn't seem disturbed by his appearance. She herself is drip-drying as she munches on a strawberry-coated stick of pocket from her perch upon the meeting table, shifting to the side when Emmanuel approaches to speak. Her sapphire eyes glitter with amusement as she listens to him speak, one of her pink-clawed index fingers slowly pushing the treat deeper into her mouth until there's just a firm *crunch* followed by chewing. Then, she reaches into her box and grabs another.
There's a flick of Emmanuel's gaze aside to Isaiah as he searches her for a symbol, and eventually finds it, clucking his tongue, "Oh, well, this should be an easy decision, non? This women is representing the sorts that work with your oppressor, after all," He slyly intones, affording her a double-look at the crunch of the pocky. "I am imagining that the Fortune would be jumping at the opportunity to get their hands on some of gold from the Golden City, after all. It is being the nature of the mercenary."
"Not entirely true," Isaiah says, crossing her thick but petite right thigh over the equally shapely left. "We're mercenaries, yeah- but I run them. And I don't fuck with the Fae. Hate most of them, in fact. Especially the older ones," she reveals, eyeballing her virginal pocky stick before biting it in half with a satisfied hum. "You give us cash, we do a job. That's how mercenaries work. So... Say there was a particularly nasty Fairy you wanted removed from existence..." She lets her voice trail, as though the representative of The Lost could finish that thought for themselves, or even imagine the possibilities, before she's turning to look back at someone wordlessly, just watching him in silence.
"Not entirely true," Isaiah says, crossing her thick but petite right thigh over the equally shapely left. "We're mercenaries, yeah- but I run them. And I don't fuck with the Fae. Hate most of them, in fact. Especially the older ones," she reveals, eyeballing her virginal pocky stick before biting it in half with a satisfied hum. "You give us cash, we do a job. That's how mercenaries work. So... Say there was a particularly nasty Fairy you wanted removed from existence..." She lets her voice trail, as though the representative of The Lost could finish that thought for themselves, or even imagine the possibilities, before she's turning to look back at Emmanuel wordlessly, just watching him in silence.