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The capital city of Anaxas and the seat of the government.
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Gale
Posts: 125
Joined: Thu Jul 19, 2018 6:07 am
Race: Human
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Writer: Crosspatch
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Mon Sep 10, 2018 6:16 am

the soot district | midday
18 ROALIS 2718
GLale flexed her fingers, the digits fiddling with her pockets as the Seventen scowled her. She felt the disgust, the pushing urge to the right and just thing while her gaze settled on his feet. It did not move, hands moving now into her pockets, shoulders hunching in as the berating continued. She only moved to take back the cigarette tin and jammed it away out of sight. It was embarrassing. And it took every ounce of self-control to swallow any pride she had. Play small, tip toe around the subjects she knew.

“Apologies, Valentin, Sir,” she tucked the name away, the rest of it quietly purring over the information that was already presented to her.

Same surname. Could be same person. Seventen. Danger. Out of uniform. A cover? He just blew it if he was. Comply for as long as necessary. What does ‘Special’ mean in this instance? Not a natural smoker. Uncomfortable for stooping down to my level of offering? Or nervous?

“He’s not a friend, sir,” voice a mumble, the cigarette finding purchase between her lips, the gaze slid to the Bully before snapping back, “Just you seem to have ‘im already lined up, more so as you asked if I was leaving it to you. Which well…” The metalworker shook her head. Keep the language simple, keep the cards close. It was more than just a game of tit for tat; it was choosing what to sacrifice in order to gain something. Deflect the situation; apply the sympathy card, “I don’t want any trouble, sir. Don’t want to… if he has mates and well… I have certain appearances to keep up.”

The emphasis was deliberate then, eyes only lifting enough to peer at him from beneath her brow. The inclination, in her mind, was clear. Perhaps for Rhys society was kinder to the female sex, in among the humans though it was something scorned. The horror stories laid out of what happened to the women were not beyond her, it was a day to day occurrence here. It was perhaps why she was glad for the shield she wore across herself; the illusion of being male on the surface gave her respect and did not have others question her intelligence. Her father had raised a son, not a daughter – and that was an identity she had to protect.

Humans were cruel to that which they did not understand.

Though she expected the Galdori were no different, simply in their own way and less drawn to violence. Social snubbing and exclusion however was always a possibility. She imagined they ruined reputation and the like, petty things that would send them into a life of ‘destitute’. They would be no doubt still considerably comfortable in comparison to the other races.

For Gale though? She did not dwell too much on that thought. The consequences made her shudder.

Exhaling she watched his hands move to write, eyes flickering around him briefly. She knew the eyes were upon her too, quietly judging and weighing her up. Keep it calm; keep it under control – no funny movements. Others were watching, waiting for any excuse. Dirty fingers withdrew the cigarette in order to address him more clearly, Mister Gale Saunders. I get why you use ma’am however, pretty face ‘nd all. But no harm, no foul,” a forced snort of laughter escaped, “S-A-under-S. Gale as in wind. Not prison.” Oddly specific, but people struggled with the spelling at the best of times. She continued, “Current residence and employment is Saunders’ Forge – uh, ‘postrophe at the end. Down on Smollett Street, about…” she rubbed her nose and pointed to her left, “That way. Edge of Soot district.”

Impatient. Clock watcher. Does not want to be here. Distracted by something else. What? The people? Or the potential for danger? Of course. Always potential for more trouble.

Gale took a drag of her cigarette, holding the smoke in her mouth before exhaling it through her nose. The hairs on her neck rose, mind suddenly and acutely aware of the position she was in. What was she missing? Around her the crowd was still watching despite the drama having passed. Another ten minutes of potentially being stuck in place however was an issue, holding her up from making a quick escape. She needed to get out. Rocking on her heels, she returned her hands to her pockets fingers fiddling with the thread inside as a distraction, “That all sir? Got a client to see ‘nd all is why.”
word count: 766
When the last of us will disappear
Like shadows into the night
The broken ones, the fighting sons
Of ignorance

Saunders' Forge | Bear's Journal

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Rhys Valentin
Posts: 94
Joined: Sun Jul 08, 2018 5:06 pm
Location: Vienda
Race: Wick
: It's Inspector to you, thanks.
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Writer: Muse
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Thu Sep 13, 2018 1:27 pm

18th of Roalis, 2718
The Soot District | Midday
Image
The Sergeant thought outside of a lot of galdori boxes, it was true, often much to the frustration of his fellow Seventen when he served next to them in any lengthy capacity. His solutions were often more intuitive than academic, but he'd been raised within the same narrow views as the rest of his peers regardless of how broad his thought process seemed to attempt to be. When the blond before him ended one sentence with appearances and began the next breath with mister, Rhys blinked,

"Clock the Circle—I'm sorry, sir." He blurted, his confusion obvious on his face for only a moment before his professionalism and training took over and he began to write. His ears rang with the pulse that still roared with his elevated heartbeat and he ignored the fact that his pencil grip made the shaking of his hand obvious, the drain of adrenaline and over-taxed ley lines revealing his vulnerabilities despite the fact that he was both a Seventen and a galdor, "My apologies for the mistake, Mister Saunders."

Did he emphasize the pronoun too much? Was he flustered by feeling unsure? Gale's facial features and voice told him one thing, but his words spelled out another. Rhys could only comply—that was what he was called to do—and bit his lip while he finished writing down the information the other man gave him.

He couldn't admit his ignorance, not here, not now, but his expression gave him away. He'd been raised and taught to assume humans were cruel, and he was aware that his own galdori culture went out of their way to keep humanity as ignorant as possible. He had no concept of their culture or social rules other than what he'd witnessed as an officer of the Law, and he'd noticed even the most subtle of differences between cultures in the Soot District compared to the Dives or even the humans that lived in the better parts of town. There was more tolerance where there was more stability, obviously.

In his own people? Differences were distinguished with cruelty and competition. Rhys had personal experience with this sort of treatment, only because he was both blond and magically inferior, or at least he'd been told his entire life. His problem wasn't gender—as both a male and a galdor he could do as he pleased with whoever he pleased despite the social norms of expected celibacy before marriage and the acceptance of same-gender marriage among his people. Affluence had afforded him a privilege and power had given him the freedom to wield it, but his gender also allowed him to do as he pleased. He understood this better now than he had as a student, of course, especially working along side galdori women and watching Brunnhold elect a woman as Headmistress. Society had shifted but the struggle was still there.

Galdori were no less cruel than humanity, at least as far as the young Valentin could tell. Their methods were just different, even if their means were the same. He sighed, not even bothering to toss wick culture into his thinking at this moment because he was already overwhelmed by his own thoughts on society while the Roalis heat beat down on his plain clothes,

"Yes. I know where Smollett Street is. Are you family or just an apprentice? The name seems familiar—Saunders' Forge—though perhaps I've just been in the sun for too long." He didn't look up, finishing the report with notes that were obviously not for Gale to see. When he was done, he realized he'd forgotten about his cigarette, smoldering as it was precariously perched between his trembling fingers while he clung to his notepad. He muttered a few annoyed curses and began tucking things away, taking another quick puff of the poor, pathetic thing that was left and letting his sharp blue gaze return to the Bully, who'd grown quiet in the heat and under the watchful attentions of the crowd,

"Yes. That's all I need for now, though I can't guarantee myself or another officer might come by the, uh, Forge if they have further questions. Especially if that ersehat over there tries to press charges against me." The tall blond rolled his eyes when he exhaled the smoke of another long drag before snuffing out what was left under his boot in the dirt,

"You're free to go, Mister Saunders."
word count: 795
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Gale
Posts: 125
Joined: Thu Jul 19, 2018 6:07 am
Race: Human
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Writer: Crosspatch
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Mon Sep 17, 2018 10:14 am

the soot district | midday
18 ROALIS 2718
That blink; that blip upon his face was what she needed. It seemingly threw him off, the tone of his voice and expression being picked up. She may not have been the person with the most social tact, but even she knew when someone was embarrassed. Her gaze watched his hand as it moved, watching the top of the pencil move and attempting to guess what was being written – she presumed it was her name and residence, the small notes on the incident that was necessary. Her nostrils inhaled the scent of tobacco and smoke, the gentle moving of her form as she swayed.

Her gaze slid away only briefly, a final sweeping scan of the crowd. With it the feeling of eyes peeled away, the stares being lost to the people. The cold sensation that had begun to accumulate at the back of her neck eased, hairs lowering as the immediate sensation of danger passed her by.

Of course, it did not stop her thinking on the immediate danger.

Tell him what he wants to hear. Keep it simple. Deflect as to why he may have heard it before.

“I’m the owner, in a manner of speakin’. Land owner is Mister Aurelian,” there was a shrug, it was an unimportant, “Still, was my Pa’s before it was mine. Just me and myself there now.” She took the cigarette to snub it out on the metal of her toolbox and promptly dropped it, “Dunno why you know it sir. Maybe fixed a thing for a friend of yours or somethin’?”

While she doubted she actually had done so – why would a Gollie come down to the Dives for a smith like her? – it was a safe suggestion. Unless he turned out to be one of those lone wolf sorts. She began to turn away, glancing up at him one last time. It locked the features, mind engraving it to memory, before doing a full step towards the crowd. A flick of the hand, “Aye, got it. I’ll put the kettle on or somethin’. Won’t take up more of your time.”

Shoulder dipping, she stepped between the watching bodies. Head low, hunched in, brushing against others as she joined the flowing people through the streets. She did not look back, pace growing quicker as she made distance. Dipping right, she pulled herself right up to the wall of the alleyway. It took her a moment to register that she had held her breath, the pressure building in her lungs as she made her strides away. Fingers rubbed at her face, a juddering noise escaping. She had to keep moving, she was late as it was. A small glance back to ensure she was not being followed. Satisfied she forced herself onwards through the dives, feeling the bitter taste on her tongue and knowing that if she was not careful things were about to become complicated.
word count: 494
When the last of us will disappear
Like shadows into the night
The broken ones, the fighting sons
Of ignorance

Saunders' Forge | Bear's Journal
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