Strange Familiarity[Jean-Rene]

A man looks for information, finds something else instead.

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Anaxas' main trade port; it is also the nation's criminal headquarters, home to the Bad Brothers and Silas Hawke, King of the Underworld. The small town of Plugit is nearby.

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Xonia
Posts: 44
Joined: Thu Nov 08, 2018 10:06 am
Topics: 8
Race: Galdor
: Xonia the Nomad
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Writer: Kimmie
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Sun Nov 11, 2018 3:02 pm

Time Reveals…
She wasn’t foolish or bold; she was compelled to follow him because he knew things she didn’t know about what she was. Her silence was kept up the whole time she walked behind him. They had arrived at the destination he’d set off for, and now the man was being a complete… Her eyes narrowed at the back of his head.

Normally, she would step between people in order to stop such injustice, but she would probably lose out on an opportunity to ask her first questions to find any kind of clue as to where she came from, who she was, and why she was hurt. He called the man a “passive,” and her anger was swift to rise. That was when she knew what she could do to make the man pay for his disgusting display. He might pay for the room, but not know who actually slept there.

Her gaze settled upon the eyes of the man being berated, her face unreadable as if she did not care what was happening in front of her. Xonia followed the rat of a man into the inn, her disgust swirling through her stomach and making it extra difficult to keep from blurting out her anger.

To help her focus, she let her eyes wander the décor in the lobby, not particularly impressed by the place, but she knew nothing of inns or hotels, barely taverns. Her mouth curled downward as her gaze settled on one particular piece… A muted and distorted conversation filling her ear that only she was capable of hearing, a blurry image in her head for a mere second, "I’ve been here before…” she murmured to herself, soft enough that either he heard it or he didn’t. That vision would flicker in her mind like electricity causing a light bulb to dim and brighten rapidly.

She shook her head, then, and returned her attention to the man with pink eyes. He was a vile man, but… she needed to get some answers.

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Jean-Rene Dimonte
Posts: 13
Joined: Fri Nov 09, 2018 11:03 pm
Topics: 2
Race: Galdor
Character Sheet: =http://fullurlhttps://anaxasdiaries.co ... 2172#p2172
Plot Notes: [url=http:/fullurl/]Plot Notes[/url]
Writer: Nathaniel
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Sun Nov 11, 2018 5:56 pm


Jean-Rene raised an eyebrow at her statement. "You can't remember your actions in the tavern, but you can remember a random inn?" He uncorked the wine bottle and poured himself a glass. "Inconsistency is quite bad practice, miss." The investigator held his glass of wine in his right hand, and bowed at the waist just slightly - as a native of Gior, it was difficult to bring his six foot height lower than hers, but he made a respectful effort at it.

"In any case," he began as he straightened again, "my manners appear to be sleeping. My name is Jean-Rene Arnauld Dimonte, miss. A pleasure." He took a sip from his glass, placed it on the counter, and removed his gloves once again for what he assumed would be the final time that night. Slipping them in his coat pocket, he offered his guest a polite smile. It was an attempt at cordial warmth, but was more than likely entirely cold.

Whatever her response to his introduction, he continued. "Well, your spotty memory could be described as perplexing as well as frustrating. I don't suppose you have any kind of medical records, or identification on your person?" He took up his wine glass again, his unblinking eyes glued to his subject in search of any hint, any quirk that could signal dishonesty.
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Xonia
Posts: 44
Joined: Thu Nov 08, 2018 10:06 am
Topics: 8
Race: Galdor
: Xonia the Nomad
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Plot Notes: Plot Notes
Writer: Kimmie
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Sun Nov 11, 2018 9:25 pm

Time is of the essence…
Now he was questioning her odd memory. “That is what happens with head wounds, sir. Even old ones like mine. Remembering that I have been somewhere might be false memory on occasion, but most of the time it is because there is something visual or there are particular smells. It does not mean that I see it clearly in my head. I happened to look at a trophy, there… That is quite a unique one because one of the glass eyes is chipped, as if it was dropped in the process of hanging or cleaning it. Otherwise, it is all like a flickering fire.” She was quite articulate for a survivor of a severe head wound, though obviously didn’t make it out of the sickbed unscathed.

He told her his name, then continued to talk to her about her memory and other things related. She took a deep breath and said, “The only moniker I know of is Xonia, and my guardian would sometimes call me Xoe… He wasn’t my father but he was as close to one as I can remember. He is the one who found me. I don’t know who I am, where I came from, nor why I was left nearly dead in an alleyway. His name was Lorent and he was a nomad; a Wick… But he wasn’t part of any group as far as I know, but I cannot be sure.”

She had plenty of reason she could have lied to him. She did vaguely remember how his kind… or rather.. her kind… tended to ridicule people who are inferior to them. She did not have such a nasty trait because she was raised a Wick. She could have refrained from telling him that tidbit about being raised by one, but it was probably better to be honest about that one. As for the rest, it was the truth as she knew it.
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Jean-Rene Dimonte
Posts: 13
Joined: Fri Nov 09, 2018 11:03 pm
Topics: 2
Race: Galdor
Character Sheet: =http://fullurlhttps://anaxasdiaries.co ... 2172#p2172
Plot Notes: [url=http:/fullurl/]Plot Notes[/url]
Writer: Nathaniel
Post Templates: [url=http:/fullurl/]Post Templates[/url]

Mon Nov 12, 2018 10:04 pm


Jean-Rene lifted an eyebrow slightly as Xonia gave her answers to his prodding. She was doing quite fine, and he reckoned she might just be an intelligent creature had she a little more society in her. Unfortunately, she had apparently been tainted by some wick "guardian." He had audibly groaned when she mentioned her mentor's race, and his eye rolling was nothing if not dramatic.

"Oh," he lamented, "you poor girl. To be raised by one of those... things. You are clearly not to blame for your current condition." He nodded his head towards the trophy she had mentioned earlier.

"So, you recall the chipped eye of this peculiarity, do you? Fascinating." He sipped from his glass of wine, now nearing empty. Reaching for a refill, Dimonte continued. "This would indicate, I think, that all of your memories exist within your skull yet. Perhaps there was some incident with magical conversation that caused your predicament. It may have been some blunt head wound, yes, but you would be far more likely to die from such an injury than live with a spotty memory. Still..not impossible."

Having filled his glass once more, the investigator swilled it around a bit before taking another sip. "It might be possible to assist you using the mona, although it would require some rigorous study. The task might even be outside the realm of my ability. Still, worth an effort, wouldn't you say?" Jean-Rene glanced at the entrance across the lobby, where his passive driver had just finished renting Xonia's room. Dimonte beckoned him over, removing his coat as his servant crossed the room.

"Take my coat to my lodgings," said master to slave, "and mind you a single tear or other is grounds for your expulsion from my service, you understand?" The driver nodded, knowing better than to speak, and scurried away.

"I am sure you are confused about my willingness to assist you, yes?" Jean-Rene smiled at his guest, and took a seat in a leather chair not far from the bar. He gestured Xonia to take a seat in a similar chair across from him. He crossed one leg over the other at the knee. "The simple fact of the matter, miss, is that you are one of my people." He smiled, and had another sip of his drink.

"We must take care of our own, don't you think?"
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Xonia
Posts: 44
Joined: Thu Nov 08, 2018 10:06 am
Topics: 8
Race: Galdor
: Xonia the Nomad
Character Sheet: Character Sheet
Plot Notes: Plot Notes
Writer: Kimmie
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Wed Nov 14, 2018 7:26 pm

Time Ends
Oh, he was quickly growing more and more disgusting the more they talked. His reaction to her words about being raised a wick caused her pupils to fluctuate slightly while she stared at him, her face a cool mask over what would have been disbelief. He’d insulted Lorent… Lorent was dead and could not defend himself, and she longed to slam her fist into the almost gaunt looking face before her.

“I would not call it being poor me. He saved my life, sir. He could just as easily left me to die too, and then you and I would not be discussing things.” She sounded neither angry nor obstinate when she wanted to, but instead, her voice was calm and even, matter of fact. “But regardless of his involvement, I am still not to blame for my condition, no. Somebody hit a defenseless child and left her to die. It is their fault, not anybody else’s.”

Then he questioned her about the eye of the trophy and she wasn’t sure whether he was truly fascinated or not, but he still asked. “I have a scar about this long,” she indicated with her fingers, “that says it was a blow to the head. I would not discount magic, however. It could very well have been both.” She turned her head and pulled heavy waves away from the area, showing part of the pearly scar tissue that was a bald patch, and then let the pretty waves bounce back into place.

When he mentioned something about… what? “What is the mona? Forgive my ignorance, sir, but I am afraid I am not familiar with the term.”

Then he was virbally abusing his driver again and she almost cracked. Almost. Rage swam through her veins at what the horrible man was saying. She remained silent, counting silently in her head to calm herself.

When he indicated she take a seat, she shrugged her rucksack from her shoulders… her worldly possessions, and settled it in front of her while she sat down. There wasn’t anything of worth other than a finely made crossbow given to her by Lorent, strapped to the side of the sack neatly. She would not be relinquishing her belongings.

He then claimed he was helping her because she was one of his people. What exactly did that even mean? Could not all people be just people? Lorent wasn’t her race, apparently now established, but he never once treated her any different. She tilted her head and said, “I had wondered why you wished to help me, yes…” But she did not say that she wondered why else he was doing it. He seemed to her like the type that would want something out of it… But she could have been wrong. Perhaps she was thinking poorly of him because of his actions toward his passive servant.

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Jean-Rene Dimonte
Posts: 13
Joined: Fri Nov 09, 2018 11:03 pm
Topics: 2
Race: Galdor
Character Sheet: =http://fullurlhttps://anaxasdiaries.co ... 2172#p2172
Plot Notes: [url=http:/fullurl/]Plot Notes[/url]
Writer: Nathaniel
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Wed Nov 14, 2018 9:08 pm


Dimonte's demeanor shifted noticeably at her defense of her deceased mentor. He suddenly had the look of a man who had just had his suspicions confirmed. His attempt at a warm and welcoming facial expression had melted away in an instant - what could be described as his 'true self' replaced it. His gaze was ice, his thin lips pursed, all in an instant. He allowed his head to tilt ever so slightly to the left; his right eyebrow lifted noticeably. He put on this 'act' often, usually when speaking with suspects, though in the dark, lonely hours of the morning he often fought the creeping suspicion that it was no act at all.

"Indeed," he began, his voice quiet. Flat. Despite the pair of them being nearly completely alone, his voice would have been difficult to hear without straining. "perhaps you would not have persevered to this point on your own, as you say. But there are occasions where death would be preferable to the loss of one's..." a sharp inhale, "dignity, I'm sure you agree."

But he had ignored her other questions. He had almost not heard them in his effort to subdue his annoyance - bordering on rage - at her defense of a wick. In a flash, the cold was gone, replaced again with warm geniality. "Nevertheless, you were only a child. The mona! I am not surprised you have not been educated on the existence of the mona, given your -", a shift of the jaw, " - unique circumstance. I can give you an extremely brief and entirely inadequate explanation, though I highly suggest you investigate the literature on the subject." He placed his wine glace on a small table beside the chair, and brought his hands together in a steeple before his chest.

"You are, of course, aware of the existence of magical potential among our race. This is wholly due to the mona. They are creatures, incomparably small, which form the basis of our entire existence. All things are mona, and mona are all things. We converse with these creatures, and if they feel up to it, they allow us to manipulate reality around us." A smile spread ever so slightly across his face, and again his warm demeanor vanished, replaced once again with ice.

In most circumstances, he would bemoan using magical conversation against a fellow Galdori except when completely necessary. However, he considered Xonia to be a special case. Any young person so dangerously close to sympathizing with the lower races needed immediate and extreme correction... and if she was a full-blown sympathizer already, then she was no better than the wick rat who raised her. A demonstration of basic Galdor ability could teach her to fall back in line with her race, or otherwise to scramble away into a rat hole like the rest of them. "For example..."

A twisted smirk still on his face, Jean-Rene began to speak quietly in Monite. To anyone else in the lobby, it would not be clear that he was speaking at all - but to Xonia, who would be able to see his lips moving, it would be clear that something was occurring.

Dimonte was attempting to commune with the mona in order to surround Xonia with an atmosphere of intense terror. If it worked, he suspected it would either freeze his subject to her seat or cause her to flee from the hotel in hysterics; there was no telling for sure. Reactions to this sort of spell were as varied as the individuals misfortune enough to experience it. He would not hold the spell for long - as soon as it was clear it had been effective, he would let it go. Either way, he was excited for the result.
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Xonia
Posts: 44
Joined: Thu Nov 08, 2018 10:06 am
Topics: 8
Race: Galdor
: Xonia the Nomad
Character Sheet: Character Sheet
Plot Notes: Plot Notes
Writer: Kimmie
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Contact:

Wed Nov 14, 2018 10:09 pm

Time is unkind.
She was able to keep her annoyance or rage in check, but his reaction nearly did her in again as he spoke with such contempt about matters he had no knowledge of. To go as far as to say one would prefer death over certain indignities that weren’t indignities to her. Her lips tightened and her eyes darkened in warning at his overstepping boundaries. He was only a stranger to her, and he presumed quite a bit, like she was his kin and his blood ran through her veins.

Xonia tilted her head and did not hide her anger that time, “You were born to privilege and I can forgive you not actually having been in my type of situation, but do not insult my guardian again. He is dead and cannot speak for himself.” She lifted her chin, her eyes flashing blue fire. She was sarcastic with the next words, “I am so lucky to have been found by you. I mean, here you are, offering to tend to someone who is practically a savage by your own account! I must commend you!”

And then he went back to his façade. She did not relax, couldn’t… Her eyes remained hard and heated as he continued to speak, poopooing things away on the account of her just being a child. Good, she thought with contempt. Her fingers itched to curl into a fist, and she muttered, “Then we will agree not to speak ill of the dead again, hmm?”

When he began to explain what he had been speaking of, she listened, if only to have a direction to go once she left… although she wouldn’t leave right away, she would have some fun teaching the old fart a lesson. Son of a bitch… Who did he think he was? He wasn’t anyone special… Just another bitter old man who acted like his shit didn’t stink. She did not like him and never would.

He decided he would demonstrate something… She eyed him warily and as he began to speak in a language she… knew? Her stomach clenched in a small knot of anxiety soon after he began to cast, and she raised her eyebrow. It felt more like she had gas than anything, really, and she asked incredulously, “Seriously? You… are trying to make me break wind?”

Xonia stared at him for a moment, and then burst into laughter. Just for a moment, though. She sobered just as quickly and said with a tilted head, “I am not your plaything… You don’t really want to help me, do you? You invited me here out of morbid curiosity… didn’t you??” She narrowed her eyes at him. How easy it would be to pull her knife and place the point right at his throat… But that would be stooping to his level.

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Jean-Rene Dimonte
Posts: 13
Joined: Fri Nov 09, 2018 11:03 pm
Topics: 2
Race: Galdor
Character Sheet: =http://fullurlhttps://anaxasdiaries.co ... 2172#p2172
Plot Notes: [url=http:/fullurl/]Plot Notes[/url]
Writer: Nathaniel
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Wed Nov 14, 2018 10:46 pm


He shifted his jaw slightly as his magical spell seemed to falter. It appeared the mona would not satisfy his desires for now...or perhaps they disapproved of his aims. Either way, he had failed, and not in an entirely dignified way. He was forced to swallow a teaspoon of his pride.

"Eh hem," He cleared his throat, laying his hands gently in his lap. "Well, that was not my intended effect, entirely. The mona, being living creatures, do not always bend to our specific whims, you see." He glanced downward at his nails, and changed the subject.

Having lost his momentum for intimidation, Jean-Rene knew better than to begin prying once again. It would take a time to regain his footing. So, he engaged with her realizations with a smile.

"You've caught me," he said with a light laugh, "I am, indeed, curious. On the other hand, what sort of officer allows a young woman, clearly in distress, to wander the streets of a place like this alone? I could satisfy my curiosity and my duty with a single stroke. You are now warm and safe, and I have been able to pick your brain. Proverbially, of course." His thin lips went straight again.

"It is certainly late, isn't it?" He came to his feet. Jean-Rene turned his head in the direction of the stairs to see that his passive servant had at some point returned, and was waiting for instruction.

"Passive," Dimonte gestured towards Xonia. "You will show my guest to her room. You will not speak, you will not accept any form of payment, is that clear?" His servant nodded, and glanced at Xonia in patient anticipation. Jean-Rene turned to her as well.

"If you require anything, you may knock on my door. I will be awake writing and perhaps reading for a time, so feel free." He narrowed his gaze ever so slightly at her.

"If you will forgive my being crass, I will not accept your presumption of telling me how to speak and how not to speak again. You are allowed this one lapse of judgment, as your lack of schooling and basic decency is plain, but I will not be so forgiving again." He took a step closer, and lowered his voice.

"In the morning, you will leave before I awake. If I see you again, you will be taken into my custody and thrown in a cell in Vienda for suspicion of conspiring with wick tribes to incite a riot in the city. You will be held a prisoner until such a time as your innocence can be determined, and believe me - the courts are quite busy, and very slow moving. You are receiving far more mercy than a rat sympathizer deserves. You are welcome."

He took a step back and straightened his clothes. With a smile, "Have a fine evening, Xonia, assuming you find no need to speak with me. I hope you sleep well." He nodded, and turned to march up the stairs. His passive bowed low as he swept by.

Jean-Rene was in his room quickly. He removed his vest so that he was wearing only a white, silk shirt, though he left it completely buttoned as well as tucked in. Suspenders held his pants above his hips. With a sigh, he took a seat at a desk and began working through some basic paperwork he had brought with him from the office. Dimonte brought work everywhere.

Lantern light danced across his shoulders as he wrote through the evening.
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Xonia
Posts: 44
Joined: Thu Nov 08, 2018 10:06 am
Topics: 8
Race: Galdor
: Xonia the Nomad
Character Sheet: Character Sheet
Plot Notes: Plot Notes
Writer: Kimmie
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Wed Nov 14, 2018 11:36 pm

GO TIME!
Finally… Her fury reached it’s peak as he spoke down to her in such a disgusting manner. Her lip curled. How dare he? Who did he think he was? “You have no power over me, you old goat.” She hissed out after he was already up the stairs. She unfolded and looked to the passive who was waiting for her. She let the man lead her up and into the room that would have been hers, but she pulled the man in after making sure all doors were closed.

She put a finger over her lips in case he made protest, and then leaned in to whisper into his ear… “You may have this room… I will only need it for a short time. Make sure you aren’t discovered. I wish I could give you coin to get you away from that disgusting man, but I don’t have enough. All this evening I have listened to him berate you and put you down… I wanted to pull you behind me but I needed information. I am so sorry you have to be treated like filth…”

Xonia pushed the man toward the bed, signaling him to remain quiet… Of course, she couldn’t force him to sleep there, but he would know it was there for him if he wanted it. She gave him a long look and decided to wait and think about what she wanted to do. The blonde moved to sit on the floor by the door, her rucksack on the floor next to her.

Should she bind the old man? She was good at tying knots… No… no… She could kill him dead with her crossbow, but her bolts were unique to her because she carved and fletched them herself. She DID need money… and while she normally would not steal from others, she would make an exception for him. She dozed off into a light sleep for about an hour, only stirring if the passive left the room because of fear of getting caught.

It was another half an hour or so before she came to her decision… Xonia slowly stood and pulled on her gear, then crept out of the room and toward the old man’s room. First she listened to hear if he was still up and about… When she did determine that he was asleep, she tested the door to see if it was locked. Upon finding it unlocked, she crept through the darkness and searched in the darkness for coin. She was going to rob him if she could.

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Jean-Rene Dimonte
Posts: 13
Joined: Fri Nov 09, 2018 11:03 pm
Topics: 2
Race: Galdor
Character Sheet: =http://fullurlhttps://anaxasdiaries.co ... 2172#p2172
Plot Notes: [url=http:/fullurl/]Plot Notes[/url]
Writer: Nathaniel
Post Templates: [url=http:/fullurl/]Post Templates[/url]

Thu Nov 15, 2018 12:38 pm


Jean-Rene awoke with a feeling that something was off. No sooner was he out of his bed than he was double checking his belongings, and it didn't take much time to realize that his suspicions were correct. A not-insignificant portion of what he had intended to be his gambling funds were now missing, and he had only one suspect on his mind.

He dressed quickly, choosing his grey suit for the day, and was out of the inn in a flash. He located his passive sleeping in the driver's seat of his carriage, all bundled up to protect itself from the cold. A solid smack against its arm awoke it, and Jean-Rene relayed orders to pack up his belongings. There was business to attend to.

DImonte spent the early hours of the morning investigating around town for any leads on Xonia's whereabouts. He had decided to throw his full weight behind finding her, at least for a day or two, as she had given him an actual excuse to investigate her through her little act of thievery. With no leads, he decided instead to attempt to track her outside of town.

"The going will be slow for you," Jean-Rene said to his passive as it un-thethered one of the carriage's horses, "but take it easy on the remaining horse and all will be fine. I will expect you in Vienda in a week or so, but no more than two." He threw his weight up and over his draft horse, a massive creature with a beautiful black mane.

"I am to see to our little thieving guest. If you are questioned at the gates of the city, inform the guards I am pursuing a suspect through the woods. You will find a letter confirming as much in my trunk." Then, to himself, "Let's see if I get lucky."

With the sun blazing overhead, Jean-Rene rode his horse out of Old Rose Harbor.
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