[Memory] And So We Meet Again... (Benton)

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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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Aziza
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Fri Jul 27, 2018 8:04 pm

Yaris 8, 2715
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Mugroba was hot and both the Mug wicks were acclimatised to it so they hadn't expected Anaxi's Dry Season to floor them. Well, in truth, it was less affecting for Aziza but Nazia seemed to be taking it quite poorly. Her health had never been quite the same since the plague that had taken her husband. It was one of the reasons why they'd left home, the air too arid for the woman to handle. Anaxas was supposed to be better for her mother's health, or so she'd thought. She required relief and the only relief she could offer was by getting her mother to water, the shore offering cooler temperatures and moisture that might make the air a little bit more bearable.

Thus, she'd brought them back to Old Rose Harbour, back to where it had all started. It meant that she would be trapped once again by the waterside but this time, she had chosen to stay, not been forced to. Admittedly, she didn't have a huge choice in the matter - she could suffer or her mother could suffer and then she'd suffer by proxy - so she had chosen the lesser of two evils by choosing her mother's well-being over her own happiness. Still, two days in the harbour and her head was already done in.

She'd been sharing Coca Tea with the woman, using it herself for its hallucinogenic qualities while her mother used it for pain. She'd been careful with it herself, only taking tiny amounts of it, only using it when she wanted to practice scrying or some other tricky divination method. Nazia was the primary user really, the one who needed it for pain, although thankfully . They were starting to run very low on it but thankfully, she knew a local supplier, one who was reliable and who she wasn't averse to seeing again.

It was what had brought her back to the same bar, a similar meeting set up with Eon although this time, she was a little better prepared. For one thing, she actually had some coin this time but she had an ace up her sleeve; the witch intended to bring him to meet her mother. If she showed him the dependency that the woman had on her, let him understand her need for the drugs he could provide then he'd realise that they were joined together and they would always return to him. The Mug wanted him to know that if he entrusted her with some of his business, helping him out where she could then she could actually be trusted. Aziza needed him but she could technically take her needs elsewhere if he chose to be difficult.There was no reason why they couldn't have a mutually beneficial relationship though.

The young woman wasn't wholly certain how this meeting would go. There was no reason why they couldn't simply... carry on as if nothing had occurred between them back in Loshis. It had been business - quite pleasurable business, she had no shame in admitting - and the witch wasn't one to be shy or overly modest. Still, the man probably hadn't expected to see her again so she wondered if there might be some awkwardness or if he'd be all right dealing with her. Aziza was hopeful that everything would be all right.

When she spotted him, the wick stood, moving forward unthinkingly as if to embrace him but she stopped short, giving a little bow in greeting as she grinned at him.

"Hesta, far'ye?" she greeted, pushing back some errant braids that had swung in front of her face as she bowed. She had to take a moment to think about her speech, consciously cutting back on her use of Tek for his sake. "I'm glad you're here. I wanted to bring you somewhere. Will you come?" she asked, making a beckoning gesture as she went to step around him. If he was willing to follow her then she would start leading the way to where she'd parked her kint.
Last edited by Aziza on Sat Nov 10, 2018 5:11 pm, edited 1 time in total.

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Benton Borteillo
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: aka EON, Roswell Godfrey
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Fri Jul 27, 2018 9:19 pm

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Yaris 8, 2715....
Oh, how Benton despised the heat that rose off of the baked cobblestones of Old Rose Harbor's bumpy streets. He was not an overly sweaty man- no, some of his contemporaries had left stains in their white shirts the moment the fabric touched their skin, whilst Benton's shirts remained crisply dry- but the air left him feeling sticky and in need of a dip in a cool bath or pool of clean water the very second he opened his door and allowed the heat to swell around him. Still, the man refused to dress casually to allow himself to feel some hint of any slight breeze. The man still opted for the three layers of shirt, vest, and jacket, as well as long, ironed pants. Anything less was simply unacceptable to him as much as his body begged him to reconsider. No, his business attire was important to every deal he made, though, judging by his last deal with this customer, his body could hope reasonably for relief of such business attire before the end of the deal.

Benton nearly hoped that that would indeed be the case as he entered the familiar old bar and felt the temperature rise around him. He felt as though he would nearly melt in the very doorway as the bodies, body heat, and body odor mingled sickeningly in the air that felt nearly solid around his head. He was glad to see her rising to meet him as he entered, even if it only meant that the two would leave the bar sooner. He was conflicted about whether he wanted to see her again or not. He wanted to see her, yes, though he could not exactly explain why for the life of him. Perhaps that indefinite question and reason was the reason he didn't want to see her. The unknown was always scary.

"Hesta, I'm well," he replied to her Tek greeting with a weak smile, putting his hands on his hips and pushing the tails of his jacket to reveal some of his bony form beneath and allow what little moving air in the room to ventilate the underside of his coat. "I've been studying Tek since our last, er, meeting, you know."

Meeting, sure. He had meant it to be that, meant it to be a clean deal between the two of them, though it had certainly become dirtier than he had intended. He had no qualms about what had happened, but today's deal would not, could not be the same. He could not risk the loss of profit. Sex could not be transferred back into his business, his sexual doings couldn't be resold or used to buy anything else. No, he'd have to be harder with Aziza today. He needed profit, and she needed to give it to him if she wanted her Coca Tea. Yes, that's what he had convinced himself. He had convinced himself to put distance for business, but, truly, the distance was because of fear. The man was fearful of attachment. He simply couldn't risk it.

"We're leaving already?" he asked quizzically as she passed him. He had barely even stepped into the bar, and she wanted to leave? He certainly wasn't opposed to it, he thought as the heat clung to him. Afraid to lose her, he followed, catching her in a few long strides. "I'd love to know where you're bringing me and why before, but I suppose I'll find out."

As much as Benton wanted to trust the girl, his hand moved absentmindedly to brush his belt. The familiar leather of his dagger's scabbard met his hand. He could be getting led to his death, or led to get mugged. His dagger wouldn't do much in a premeditated attack, but it did at least provide his paranoia some relief as he followed the girl to whatever location.
In hell I'll be in good company.
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Aziza
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Sat Jul 28, 2018 10:13 am

Yaris 8, 2715
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She smiled, pleased by his greeting and his admittance.

"Boemo. That's benny to hear," she remarked, fanning at the back of her neck, cooling the sweat that slicked it. She wondered if he'd taken what she'd said about Tek the last time to heart. She'd said that he hadn't been getting the right sort of business if he hadn't picked up some degree of fluency; maybe he was intent on tracking down the right sort of business, in which case, he'd need it. For a moment, she wondered if he'd brushed up on his Tek on the off chance that he'd encounter her again but that had certain... implications. The man didn't seem like the sort to form attachments readily and it wasn't like they had- it hadn't been- No, it wasn't like he was going to try to yach her. Their previous interaction certainly hadn't been conducive to courtship or a long-term relationship, if it was a matter of starting as they'd meant to go on...

When he asked if they were leaving already, she nodded, leading the way outside, sighing with relief when she got outside. Compared to the bar, it was far less stuffy and there was a faint stirring of cooler air, barely possible to classify it as a breeze. "Oes. Did ne want to stay in that heat, did ye? Too close in there, ye chen? Hot, sweaty, ne... outside is better," she explained, winding her way through the streets, avoiding touching the other overheated bodies that they passed. "I'm bringing ye to me kint. Sure, it's a bit tight an' all but at least it ent full of people to heat it more. I'm bringin' ye to meet someone. Ye did ne think I use all that Coca meself, did ye? I think... it's important. That you meet her, I mean."

The wick eyed him curiously as they walked, noting the immaculate state of his dress, not even a button out of place. He'd layered himself up, maintaining a particular aesthetic despite the heat. He must be roasting under all that clothing, particularly now that they were out in the light, the dark colours sure to absorb the heat directly; she should know, her skin absorbed it too but she didn't have the luxury of being able to strip it off. Eon was a fool but she couldn't deny that he must have a great deal of self-control; far more self-control than he'd shown when they'd been together.

"Are ye trying to boil yerself in yer own skin, brunno?" Aziza asked, her voice slightly teasing although there was a sympathy and some pity in her dark eyes. She felt sorry for him, even if it was the result of his own stupidity and stubbornness. There was something she could do about it though. He might not take to it kindly though but she could offer what assistance she could.

"Stop here for a tick, would ye? It ent much farther to the kint but I do ne want ye to drop from heat stroke, ye chen? Hold still, vroo ent nothin' to be afeard of," she informed him, moving close to him, raising a hand to place it on his forehead. He might flinch away but he hoped that he'd trust her. If he wouldn't let her touch him then she would hold her hand as close as he'd permit.

The young woman was a healer, certainly not as good as she could be, but she wasn't totally useless. She could dull pain a little, heal minor bruises and cuts and make a little bit of a dent in a fever. Her magic still wasn't as good as it could be and so she hoped that when she could improve it, she could manage to work stronger magic. She was just thankful that this was a spell that she used regularly; she didn't need to consult the almanac for it.

She closed her eyes, the tip of her tongue protruding from her mouth which she held between her teeth, a sign of her concentration. She intoned a long string of Monite, her intonation casual enough that it would probably make a golly shudder. She felt the mona around her shift, granting assistance but not to the level she would have liked; her relationship with it was reasonable but she knew she didn't have the necessary control yet. The young woman had long been casual about her use of magic, her parents had never been able to instil reasonable discipline in her. Thankfully, her uses of the mona typically followed the noble uses that the gollies so adored. Thus, it hadn't chosen to rebel on her and didn't seem inclined to do so any time soon.

She felt the air under her hand cool. If she could have contact then the coolness would spread over his skin; distance made it less effective. It wasn't enough to make him cold but it would likely bring some welcome relief. It made her feel a little dizzy, a result of the cast, and she swayed a little on her feet, raising a hand to her forehead. She squinted her eyes tightly shut, groaning a little.

"Ugh, that should help ye, Eon. C'mon, ent far now. That will ne last long but it's better than nothing, ent it?" she remarked, leading the rest of the way to her mobile home. It would take a few more minutes, the kint as close to the water as she'd dared to bring it, her mother sitting outside with the kenser, Kalila. Hanaa, Aziza's osta, was curled up on the older Mug's lap. Nazia was asleep, an empty cup beside her that explained how she'd managed it in this heat: Coca Tea.
Last edited by Aziza on Mon Jul 30, 2018 4:56 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Benton Borteillo
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Mon Jul 30, 2018 1:58 pm

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Yaris 8, 2715....
T The idea of going to Aziza's kint was curious to Benton, but curiouser still was the fact that the two were going to the kint for Benton to meet someone. He wondered who it could be, who could be consuming the Coca Tea so rapidly with Aziza, though, without knowing anything about the woman, he hadn't the slightest idea of the identity of the person. The idea that they were strangers who had shared the most intimate of actions both annoyed and amused him. He had always hoped he could have more control, always hoped that he would meet someone and know them before he did such, but, well, some things never change. He wished they did.

Still, however, he found himself trusting the girl more than he should, letting her lead him through his own streets. As she commanded him to stop, he obliged. "It's a proper ensemble of business," he defended his clothing choice.

"Besides, it makes me look good," he teased back lightly, watching with a kneaded brow as she approached him with an outstretched hand. He flinched back as her hand made contact with his head, but allowed it to rest there, a calm confusion reflecting back at her from the basin of his face. He felt momentarily like a child, remembering how his mother would check the temperature of his body with a hand to his forehead when he claimed to be ill. The foreign words that came from her mouth signaled to him that this certainly was not in the same intentions of his mother's hand, however.

"What are you doing?" he asked quickly, breaking the contact of hand to head by inching back. Yet, the slight cool had already spread across his skin. He placed a hand to his own forehead, nearly expecting it to be wet with the sudden cool temperature. As he found his hand dry and his skin slightly cooled, however, he looked back to her. She seemed slightly out of sorts; she had surely used whatever weak wick magic she had to do this with whatever hellish words had spilled from her mouth. He grabbed her upper arm to steady her as she swayed.

"I- thank you, I suppose," he murmured. "Preferably don't... converse the mona at me without telling me first." Certainly, a little fear had gripped him. It was a reminder of the powers the woman had that he didn't. A rational second would tell him that, as a wick, she most likely couldn't hurt him, at least not terribly, but the connections that nearly everyone else in the world besides humans had was terrifying. The unknown was always scary, after all, and even someone who tried to be as in control and rational as Benton couldn't help the uneasiness that awoke in his stomach as he realized what she had done.

As she steadied and began to lead the way again, Benton released her arm. He realized, as he did so, that he may've been holding onto her a bit tight. He certainly hadn't meant to. Her efforts had been a bit of sacrifice for him, her unsteadiness showed. He quelled his fear- she had done... whatever it was for his comfort. He sighed. "You really needn't waste your energy on me, although, I appreciate it."

He followed her, his eyes scanning for any sign of the witch's kint. And, there it was. He stopped short, afraid to approach the other woman as she slept, afraid to intrude whatever bond there was between the sickly woman and Aziza. His eyes danced over the scene, taking it all in. He hadn't seen a true mobile home like this since he had travelled with his brother in one all those years ago. It reminded him of those days, of happier days of travelling. The nostalgia warmed his face pleasantly. His eyes caught the cup, too, and he knew what its contents had been. He glanced at Aziza expectantly, allowing her to approach the woman. From experience, waking strangers wasn't always the safest plan. He, however, wandered to the kenser. He had been around them many a time in his childhood, and he'd always enjoyed the amiable creatures. He let the animal nuzzle his hand comfortably as he awaited Aziza's introduction.The idea of going to Aziza's kint was curious to Benton, but curiouser still was the fact that the two were going to the kint for Benton to meet someone. He wondered who it could be, who could be consuming the Coca Tea so rapidly with Aziza, though, without knowing anything about the woman, he hadn't the slightest idea of the identity of the person. The idea that they were strangers who had shared the most intimate of actions both annoyed and amused him. He had always hoped he could have more control, always hoped that he would meet someone and know them before he did such, but, well, some things never change. He wished they did.

Still, however, he found himself trusting the girl more than he should, letting her lead him through his own streets. As she commanded him to stop, he obliged. "It's a proper ensemble of business," he defended his clothing choice.

"Besides, it makes me look good," he teased back lightly, watching with a kneaded brow as she approached him with an outstretched hand. He flinched back as her hand made contact with his head, but allowed it to rest there, a calm confusion reflecting back at her from the basin of his face. He felt momentarily like a child, remembering how his mother would check the temperature of his body with a hand to his forehead when he claimed to be ill. The foreign words that came from her mouth signaled to him that this certainly was not in the same intentions of his mother's hand, however.

"What are you doing?" he asked quickly, breaking the contact of hand to head by inching back. Yet, the slight cool had already spread across his skin. He placed a hand to his own forehead, nearly expecting it to be wet with the sudden cool temperature. As he found his hand dry and his skin slightly cooled, however, he looked back to her. She seemed slightly out of sorts; she had surely used whatever weak wick magic she had to do this with whatever hellish words had spilled from her mouth. He grabbed her upper arm to steady her as she swayed.

"I- thank you, I suppose," he murmured. "Preferably don't... converse the mona at me without telling me first." Certainly, a little fear had gripped him. It was a reminder of the powers the woman had that he didn't. A rational second would tell him that, as a wick, she most likely couldn't hurt him, at least not terribly, but the connections that nearly everyone else in the world besides humans had was terrifying. The unknown was always scary, after all, and even someone who tried to be as in control and rational as Benton couldn't help the uneasiness that awoke in his stomach as he realized what she had done.

As she steadied and began to lead the way again, Benton released her arm. He realized, as he did so, that he may've been holding onto her a bit tight. He certainly hadn't meant to. Her efforts had been a bit of sacrifice for him, her unsteadiness showed. He quelled his fear- she had done... whatever it was for his comfort. He sighed. "You really needn't waste your energy on me, although, I appreciate it."

He followed her, his eyes scanning for any sign of the witch's kint. And, there it was. He stopped short, afraid to approach the other woman as she slept, afraid to intrude whatever bond there was between the sickly woman and Aziza. His eyes danced over the scene, taking it all in. He hadn't seen a true mobile home like this since he had travelled with his brother in one all those years ago. It reminded him of those days, of happier days of travelling. The nostalgia warmed his face pleasantly. His eyes caught the cup, too, and he knew what its contents had been. He glanced at Aziza expectantly, allowing her to approach the woman. From experience, waking strangers wasn't always the safest plan. He, however, wandered to the kenser. He had been around them many a time in his childhood, and he'd always enjoyed the amiable creatures. He let the animal nuzzle his hand comfortably as he awaited Aziza's introduction.
Last edited by Benton Borteillo on Mon Jul 30, 2018 8:02 pm, edited 2 times in total.
In hell I'll be in good company.
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Aziza
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Mon Jul 30, 2018 6:40 pm

Yaris 8, 2715
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Despite the foolishness of his dress, the witch had to admit that he did look good. Although, she was inclined to regard him favourably regardless of what he was or wasn't wearing. He was an attractive man - she'd thought that when she'd met him - and the outfit certainly didn't do any harm. In truth, it was nicer to see that smirk, that small display of cockiness in his own appearance.

"As if you need to wear clothes to look good," she shot back, only realising once the words were out of her mouth that they didn't sound quite as they had done in her head. She laughed, the action unrestrained, as she realised just how blatantly she'd flirted with him, just what she'd alluded to and not really caring about the error. Perhaps he wouldn't appreciate the reminder that she'd seen him wearing only that smirk.

The spoke didn't see any harm in flirting with him, even if it had been accidental. The young woman had simply been stating the truth. If the man wanted to take it beyond flirtation again... well, she certainly wouldn't say no. She had enjoyed herself the last time and thankfully there hadn't been unfortunate consequences. Her mother did have spells for dealing with such things but they weren't always reliable - it even said it in the Almanac - and so if she wanted to carry on a casual relationship, they might have to be a bit more... creative. Although she wouldn't say no to simply spending time with him, testing his walls to discover all the ways she could get them to come down so he'd loosen up. If he was going to be all stiff and proper, she wasn't interested though. Still, it might be fun to teach him not to take himself so seriously; old dogs could be taught new tricks on occasion.

When she unthinkingly drew near to him to cool him down, the witch never even thought about how terrifying magic must be from his perspective. He had no access to the mona, as helpless as an imbali but without the magical bloodlines. Could humans even feel the mona move or had the sudden cooling of his form come as an exceedingly unpleasant shock? Aziza had meant well, she really had but his fear was evident and she was sorry for having caused it.

"Epaemo. I didn't think," she murmured, corners of her mouth pulled down, an anxious line forming between her brows. "I just- I use vroo for my daoa's pain all the time so I didn't think. I forgot you were human," she explained, humming and shaking her head. "Ne, not forgot, ne. I knew, I just... didn't think."

His lack of a field and its implications just hadn't crossed her mind. So he didn't have magic, so what? It really didn't make a lot of difference to her. She wasn't a golly, she didn't look down her nose at humans; Aziza didn't look down her nose at anyone. But she was worried that she'd made a very, very poor mistake.

He released her and the Mug witch almost reached out a hand in comfort before she thought better of it; she didn't think she could stand it if he flinched away from her in anticipation of another spell. The girl wasn't used to people being frightened of her and she didn't like it. Aziza had scared herself before with her magic usage, little - and no so little - accidents having occurred over the years, but she still didn't think that that meant that anyone should fear her.

"It's nothing, a pina thing. I don't mind. Really," the girl added softly, timid in her shame, a darker hue in her cheeks.

She was glad to get to the kint; it gave her a chance to do something that meant she wouldn't have to look at Benton. She approached her mother, bending a little and tilting her head so she could look at the woman's face, chewing her lip. She didn't know how long the woman had been asleep for but her features were smooth, relaxed. It was times like these, when her expression was serene, that Aziza had a chance to study her face properly, to note the new lines that had etched themselves into her skin since her husband's death. Her own sickness had added to her visible age too, adding a fragility to her appearance. She probably wasn't that much older than Benton; she'd had Aziza young and was still a few years away from forty.

The young woman laid a gentle hand on her mother's shoulder, using the other to tenderly move a kinked curl off the matriarch's sticky forehead. "Daoa? Epaemo, I did ne want to wake ye but that kov I told ye about is here to see ye, ye chen?" the spoke explained softly as the other's eyes cracked open, regarding her blearily.

She glanced around to find Benton, surprised when she saw him with the kenser. "Watch yerself. She has queer moods," she warned, distracted as her osta butted against her leg. "Not now, Hanaa. Later."

She gestured to catch her guest's attention, beckoning him near. "This is my daoa - my mother - Nazia. Daoa, this is the kov I was telling ye about, my brunno" - it wasn't a lie, they'd certainly gotten close and very friendly indeed in a single evening - "who gimme the Coca."

She hesitated, unsure if she should introduce him as Eon but not having an alternative to offer. Her mother would likely spot the oddness of Eon and if he chose to give a different name then it would seem a bit peculiar. If he was a friend as she said then she ought to know his real name. But he was secretive so he probably wouldn't give it.

"This is Eon, daoa. He can get ye more stuff for the pain. We've got the ging, a pina manna it but enough. Do ne start!"

"Ne, I told ye, we ent getting more. It's too much," the woman interjected, rehashing a familiar argument that had taken place over the last few days.

"Dze! It ent, I told ye. The price was benny. I told ye I had enough with me to offer. I can barter." She averted her gaze, colour entering her cheeks once more. She wasn't lying but she was awfully close to it; her mother didn't know all that she'd offered and she didn't intend for her to find out.

[b["Dze! Ye couldn't barter to save yer life! Yer mung with bart'ring, I chen! I still think ye're lying about-"[/b]

"I do ne lie!" the girl barked, making her mother flinch at the rage behind it; lying was a serious offence to accuse any Mugrobi of and her mother knew it. "I'm gettin' vraun for the jent, two o' ye can talk," she added sourly, moving into the kint to clatter around for the pot that held the curry before bringing it out to the fire, extinguished since the previous night. She marched off to pick firewood up from their store.

"Eon, eh? Epaemo for... that. Ent mannerly front of guests, is it? Ne, it ent. It's benny she come here with ye but... we ent got the sort of ging for what ye have. My hama... she means well, she does and I know she ent told me the whole truth 'bout whatever ye bartered for the last lot of Coca," Nazia pointed out, lips pressed unhappily together as she petted the osta that had returned to her lap. "Prob'ly thought ye'd see me and pity or maybe she's offering something that she shouldn't rightly give. What are ye to her really? She says brunno, but I do ne know how close ye are. Ye ent got a field, ent got vroo and I do ne know what to make of ye but she's busy-"

She nodded to where her daughter was busily engaged with gathering the necessary materials for a fire, coaxing flames into existence with a plea to the mona before she vanished back into the kint in search of tea, the vraun left to heat.

"- and I could make ye go away if ye turn out nasty. Don't know if I want ye near my hama, might be better to put the fear into ye," the elder Mug witch threatened, eyes narrowing a little. "Ought to be fair nice to a guest but not a laoso kov, which I 'spect ye might be. Aziza's too good for yer kind, too trusting so ye better tell me what ye are right quick and hope I like what I hear, Eon, if it is yer name; 'spect it ent."

Aziza didn't have a notion of how the kind of threats her mother was making, wasn't close enough to feel the shift in her field and the mona around her but if she had, she would have been pissed.
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Benton Borteillo
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: aka EON, Roswell Godfrey
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Mon Jul 30, 2018 8:01 pm

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Yaris 8, 2715....
A younger Benton would have been quivering before the woman, but, today, he'd been in this business far too long to be afraid of this woman's threats. Besides, he knew how to work the situation, he hoped as Aziza left him with the irritable witch. He had wanted to step in, to do something to comfort Aziza as her mother scolded her so openly, but, alas, he did nothing. It wasn't his place, and he'd get his chance to talk.

He exhaled a short breath of amusement, his signature smirk creasing the side of his face as the woman ended her long-winded threat. He cocked an eyebrow up at her above his smirk, and he bowed slightly to the woman. This woman wasn't his friend, and he wouldn't try to win her over.

"It's nice to meet you, too," he greeted sarcastically, though his bow did not lack respect. "I can't give you my real name. As low as you think of me, I wouldn't want you uttering it off the wrong people; you can kill me with it. Eon keeps me safe, and it keeps you safe, too."

He glanced towards Aziza, hoping to whatever gods that listened that she herself was not listening. He did not want to hurt her, he did not want, for the life of him, to see her face if she heard what he was about to say.

An icy acid and seriousness bit into his face and voice as he stared down at the woman, not an ounce of fear or pity on him. He stood a comfortable distance away to ensure her that he wasn't about to physically attack her, however- he'd had that misunderstanding in the past, and it never went well. "What I am? I'm a man who has lost everyone he has ever had to death, but has kept going. I'm a man who wants to use what he has to make this world better for people like me, for people like you who are nothing but scum to the very mold that rules this world. I'm a businessman, and I'm successful at it. But to you and your daughter, I am a drug-dealer, and I am not trying to be more than that. I can't speak for what your daughter thinks of me, but I'm not her brunno, at least not mutually." Which was a lie as big as the whole of Vita. He enjoyed Aziza's company, enjoyed more of her than what she could trade with him. Yet, as he heard the frost touching the edge's of the woman's words, he doubted she wanted to hear that a laoso kov like him considered himself close with her daughter. He was trying to win the woman's business, not the approval of their wedding, after all.

"Laoso, low-life, I'm just doing my job," he explained. He nodded towards the empty cup beside her. "Seems as though you're enjoying my work, too. Nothing wrong with that. You look like you need that Coca Tea, and you both need it more than I do. I don't see anything wrong with doing business with you, but if you do, I can up and disappear, not a problem. You and your daughter can pack up your kint and go right back to wherever, both of you can enjoy the summer heat and sickness with no help from me. Would you like that? I can make it happen. You don't have to lift a finger or speak a word to whatever mona is surrounding us." He raised a hand absentmindedly, not at all sure of how the mona worked and possessed the air around him.

He crossed his arms, the annoyed smile that had been growing on his face falling away. "I'm a clean dealer, lady. I won't take more from you than you owe, and I'll never try and trick you. I trust my customers, but I need them to trust me. If you don't trust me, I can take my business elsewhere."

"Your daughter's plenty old, plenty responsible to make her own decisions. She's right kind, right trusting, but she's careful, too. She's not stupid. You seem to think she is," Benton finished, his face hard and unrelenting.
In hell I'll be in good company.
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Aziza
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Tue Jul 31, 2018 11:39 am

Yaris 8, 2715
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Aziza was ill-pleased with her mother's behaviour and how she'd spoken to her own daughter, but if she'd heard how she was presently speaking to their guest, she would have been furious. Wicks were hospitable by nature but in her own homeland, everyone, wick or not, bent over backwards to accommodate a guest. To threaten one, to actually consider violence against a guest was a strong taboo. It was bad enough that Nazia had accused her of lying - an accusation that truly stung her daughter - but if she'd been aware of what she was currently doing, had been able to feel the way that the witch held her field then she would have been beyond horrified. Instead, she was busy doing what when ought to do when they had a guest: be hospitable.

The Mug had gathered tea things, gotten water ready to boil and had even hunted out a bottle of strong spirits, pouring some into a cup with the intention of adding it to herself and Benton's tea on the sly. By the time she returned outside and took the pot of vraun from the fire to carry over to the pair, quite a few words had been said. While she was happily oblivious as she approached, the moment she came into range of her mother's field, she flinched, almost dropping the meal in the process. There was a rigidity to the woman's field, a pulse in it as well that made Aziza stare, trying to caprise it more accurately. Was it warmer around her mother? It was bloody difficult to tell in this heat but surely she hadn't... she couldn't have...

Perhaps she should have made allowances. Nazia had her good days and her bad ones and that this most assuredly a bad one, her irritability far higher than normal. She could remember when her mother had been more easygoing but that had been before Az's father had died, before the sickness had taken much of the good out of her mother too.

"Maguala, juela!" the witch snapped in Mugrobi, receiving a scandalised look from her mother, whose eyes flickered to Benton. It wasn't as if their language was secretive and once she'd chosen one word to express her exasperation, it had been natural to use another. Although, it wasn't fair to Benton. True, it was awful to have an argument in front of a guest but it was probably worse to have one, of which said guest wouldn't understand a word.

"I know ye're sick, I know ye hurt but ye feel like yer 'bout to fling vroo in a tsuter way. He's a guest! If he slit my belly open and let my innards spill into the fire, if he cott me in front of ye, ye wouldn't cast on him. He's a guest, Nazia!" The use of her mother's name, the extreme familiarity was an intentional show of disrespect and the woman knew it. Benton couldn't experience the emotions flitting through each pulsing field but the anger and frustration was tangible in other ways.

"I do ne need a boch to tell me-"

"I ent a boch or have yer eyes gone, daoa?" she interrupted, a hand gesturing to envelop her voluptuous figure, bracelets jangling angrily. "Who got us here? Who made sure we got here, got that kenser, got the ging for yats and the like for denk, eh? Do I ne mind ye and help with the pain? Did I ne mind ye when da died and ye could ne mind yerself?" she asked, her voice growing softer as she spoke, especially when the other witch buried her face in her hands and began to sob.

Hanaa, the osta, didn't enjoy this particular emotional display very much, choosing that moment to hop to the ground to sniff around the pot of curry that her owner had set down, giving Benton little more than a cusory glance.

"Hamaye, ye chen?" she whispered, bending to kiss the woman on the top of her head, shushing her gently. "Did ye want yats or do ye want to go into the kint to sleep? I can make ye some more tea-"

"Ne tea. I can ne use it all the time, we can ne-"

"Dze! Daoa, I'm getting tea from Eon, ye chen? Ye can ne say a thing to stop me. Lemme deal with it. I've told you, he's balach."

Nazia looked up, eyebrows scaling her forehead as she gave a snort, a sceptical glance shot Benton's way. The girl laughed, rolling her eyes.

"I mean, I trust him. He ent on the benny side of the tickers but he ent laoso neither. Gollies do ne look on us fair benny here neither so we'll stick with our own sort, ye chen? Now git! I'll bring ye that tea and ne lip out o' ye!" Aziza ordered, although an easiness had returned to her manner, moving to help her mother rise although she was then waved off as the woman used a stick to head for the kint.

The girl sighed, watching Nazia move with unconcealed anxiety on her face, gesturing absentmindedly for Benton to take the seat that she'd just vacated. She shook her head to clear it then knelt, shifting her skirt so that her knees were pressed against the ground rather than the fabric as she busied herself with uncovering the steaming curry and ladling it out for him. She offered it to him with a sheepish smile, a flush in her cheeks.

"I do ne know what she said but epaemo. A thousand times, she should ne have- Epaemo, I should ne have brought ye here. Ye will ne think kindly of us for it. Of me but dze... do ne co- murder me, ye chen? I said it in fun. Sort of," the smile on her face broadened, the young woman getting to her feet and brushing her knees off, once again heedless of the skin she allowed flash.

"Lemme get this tea and I'll be back. Won't be more'n a tick."

She went back to the fire where she'd set the water to boil, pouring it out into two cups for the pair of them with tea leaves before carrying it and another empty cup into her mother. She raided the last scraps of Coca Tea, shaking them into the cup and pouring the water on top to infuse it. With that done, she went back out, moving a seat so that she was reasonably close to Benton - she didn't need her voice to carry when her mother was so close - and fetched the brewed tea, adding in the alcohol in a generous amount.

"Here. It's strong, mind. I put a pina bit of something in it," the spoke informed him with a sly grin. "I'm sorry, I am. I wouldn't blame ye if ye wanted to du- run off on me. As fast as ye can in them clothes and this heat," she teased lightly, managing a purer Estuan now that she'd gotten away from her mother, less inclined to slip into heavy Tek usage. Even if he'd made the effort, he wasn't that used to the pidgin she was sure so there was no point making him work to understand her.

"I'm sure ye could find better customers than us and I wouldn't blame ye. If ye want to leave, I won't stop ye... but I'll be sorry to see ye go."

She traced a finger around the rim of her earthenware mug, not having any vraun for herself. She didn't raise her gaze to try to meet his but he would likely see the slight blush that her words had elicited.
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Benton Borteillo
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: aka EON, Roswell Godfrey
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Wed Aug 01, 2018 2:23 am

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Yaris 8, 2715....
Benton couldn't help the superior amusement that he felt as Aziza scolded Nazia. He turned away slightly so as to not completely reveal his smirk, but to allow Nazia to get a slight view of it. Yet, the small whisper Aziza used to tell Nazia she loved her touched him, smearing the smile off of his face. He remembered, for a moment, the feeling that the two must share- the knowledge and persistence of love despite the flaws of another. Having remembered only meant that he had forgotten. He shook the thought, the nostalgia, away., turning his attention back to the pair of wicks as their quarrel lost steam and Nazia rose from her seat and used her cane to help her into the kint. Benton approached Aziza tentatively as the elder vacated the seen, but, helplessly lost for anything to do or say, he simply stood over her shoulder. She motioned for him to sit; he obeyed, perching on the edge of the seat.

"Murdering clients is typically bad for business," he replied, his smirk returning to crease his cheek. He took the curry from her gratefully, offering a shrug as he did so. "I don't think any less of you because of it. You're not accountable for what she does."

"Besides, I'm a drug-dealer, she's a mother. My own mother would certainly react the same to me if she were here," he explained boredly, his attention turned to the curry as the earthy smell of vegetables and vivid spices met his nose. As Aziza left, Benton found himself caught in the light-house eyes of the osta- Hanaa, it had been called. He had never much cared for the creatures, but he wouldn't pass the chance to win the affection of an animal. He cooed at it childishly, lowering his bowl towards the ground for her to get a whiff. He made a few tutting noises, trying to coax it close enough for his hands to brush its coat. The feline approached for a moment, but halted just out of his reach for a sudden cleaning. He glared at it as it gave him a side-eyed glance of oh-you-wanted-me-to-come-to-you? before turning its attention back to the paw it licked. He pulled the curry back into his lap. It wouldn't get any from him, he decided, though he'd certainly capitulate to give it some if it so much as looked at him.

Aziza returned with tea, and he took it, rolling his eyes playfully at her comment. He would drink the tea in minuscule and far-apart sips. Alcohol and hallucinogenic drugs combined were a road he had taken before, but it certainly wasn't the road he'd need to take to get home safely and with all of his clothes on tonight. He hadn't been high in years, either. Drunk, however, was a different story.

"For both your sake and the sake of my clothing, let's be glad I'm not running anywhere," he alluded, balancing the cup of tea on the ground beside him. "There a few better customers out there, maybe, but there are many worse. Not many customers would allow me to share curry and tea with them at their own home."

"Besides, if I ran from little conflicts like angry mothers, I wouldn't have any customers," he shrugged. He dug into the pocket of his jacket, pulling out another envelope of Coca Tea, the same size as last, and dropped it into Aziza's lap. "Business is still on if you'll allow it." He set the mostly finished bowl of curry down, sliding it with his foot towards the osta. There. His end of the business was done, but he didn't move to leave, didn't ask for his pay. He observed her on the ground for a moment, but his eyes quickly panned ever to the kint. The pair certainly hadn't lost their culture and identity in the move, but it almost seemed as though something much less palpable was lost between them between the dried herbs and jangling beads. The frustrations they both let loose in their fighting seemed to Benton to be a sign that they weren't at all used to fighting, but had been fighting excessively as of late. The way Aziza softened to her mother, too, gave the impression that the girl just wanted things to reach equilibrium again. His gaze shifted back to Aziza, and his eyebrows shifted curiously. She didn't seem like someone who would be overly closed, so he found it beneficial to at least try his questions.

"Why are you and your mother here? Why did you leave Mugroba? Not that I'm unhappy you're here, but it seems like the move has caused some problems. By the way the two of you quarrel, it doesn't seem like you've always been quarreling," he asked and observed, hoping he was not treading too heavily in shark-infested waters. Genuinely, he was curious. He was a foreigner, too, afterall, and he'd fought with his brother a multitude of times. The ways in which two entirely different people could share so many experiences absolutely infatuated him.
In hell I'll be in good company.
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Aziza
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Wed Aug 01, 2018 8:22 am

Yaris 8, 2715
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It was good to share a laugh after the tension and anger that existed only a few minutes before. She still didn't know what had been said in her absence and asking Benton felt like a pointless effort because he could easily lie, her mother on the other hand... Still, she was glad that he wasn't likely to hold her mother's actions against her daughter, but Aziza felt that she had to justify Nazia's behaviour.

"She is ne always like this. It's a bad day for her, fair bad," she explained with a sigh, eyes straying to the kint, wondering if the woman was sleeping yet or if she might be trying to eavesdrop. If she did try to eavesdrop, Aziza didn't think she'd be able to hear anything, not that she planned on saying anything particularly damning about herself or her mother.

"I'd hoped ye'd have a nicer greeting but I should've known; I saw what she was like afore I left. We're usually benny to guests although if yer guest murders ye, it's considered a bit rude, ye chen?" she teased. "But oes, a meal, some drink, it's the least I can do. Ye can ne have a guest and not offer 'em something. It isn't the Mug way, but me daoa can be excused, I 'spose."

She sipped her tea, savouring the warmth, even though it brought sweat out on her face. Spices and hot things were good in hot weather, cooling in their own way, as she knew well. "Meet a lot of yer customers' mothers, do ye?" she questioned, brows arched up as the packet was dropped in her lap. She gazed at the wrapped package, biting her lip. He hadn't mentioned anything about money and she wondered for a moment if he was going to try to give it to her for free. She considered him critically for a moment; no, she doubted that he'd give something away. Still, he'd allowed her to have half a month's worth before in exchange for her body, which certainly couldn't have been profitable, even if he hadn't seemed to mind in the long run.

However, business didn't seem to be immediately on his mind, his personal questions making her blink in surprise, wondering what had prompted this evident curiosity. The spoke took a few moments to consider her words, turning memories over in her head as she did so. She knew why they'd moved, and it wasn't just her mother's health, although the two women had never discussed the matter openly. Mugrobi didn't lie but sometimes, it was possible to omit a part of the truth which was the next best thing.

"When I was a little boch, we were spokes but then we stopped, settled. I hated it. I stayed with my fami though and we had a tribe back then. Then my da got sick, very sick and my daoa tried to tend him. He'd already had a sickness so when the new one came, he was weak. My daoa got sick too and I tended her, kept tending her after my da died. I made us spokes again. I thought if we denked then maybe we'd have a chance. I did ne have to go 'gainst the Durg; he was dead, lot of the tribe was dead or dying, taken wherever Hulali's waters took them. I thought... once we got away from the place of the sickness, it'd be benny but my daoa..."

The girl shook her head, a miserable, haunted expression on her face.

"Nazia had me when she was 16, was with my da for maw. I did ne realise 'til she got better just how many places she'd been afore we turned tsat. I moved us and everywhere we went, she had memories of him and it hurt her. Most places, I did ne remember them, did ne know I'd been afore, 'cos I had ne been there since I was a fair pina boch so it did ne hurt me but it hurt to see her hurting," the witch whispered, taking another sip of tea, gazing into the cup as her eyes grew watery.

"Tried for a maw but I could ne take it. She'd known Mugroba for over thirty maw and she'd been with my da near twenty. Too many memories. I thought if we went somewhere new, it'd help," she explained, voice cracking a little, a salty droplet plopping into her cup and sending ripples outwards. The girl rubbed at her face, trying to get ahold of herself a little. "After her sickness, she's been weak. She gets shaky, her breath catches sometimes. In Mug, the air... it was dry and hot, too bad for her. She suffered. So I said, 'We'll go somewhere cooler, somewhere that'll be kinder on ye' and she 'greed. She were ne happy 'bout it but if I said go... I never mentioned me da, never said we were dusting from him, her memories of him. Ne, I talked about sickness and how Anaxas would be benny for her."

She paused, sighing deeply, dark eyes fluttering closed, tears still trying to leak out through the lids even as she sniffled and wiped at them. "Mugrobi do ne lie, we think it's wrong but I did ne tell the truth, not the whole truth and I think she knows it, same as I know she hates me for coming here, even if she won't say it."

Her voice finally broke totally, the young woman managing to set her cup down before she spilled hot liquid everywhere, burying her face in her hands as she sobbed. Hanaa approached, nudging her leg with her head before she went to sniff at the cup, recoiling as she got a whiff of the spirits. Aziza wasn't ashamed to cry in front of him, the witch was rarely ashamed of showing anything. Still, Benton was her guest and she knew that the sobbing must be off-putting; sometimes people didn't know what to do with themselves when another cried. So she did her best to stem the flow of tears, dabbing at her eyes with the sleeves of her blouse, one hand bunching the material of her colourful skirt as she took deep breaths.

"Epaemo, ye did ne come here for tears; ye came for ging," Aziza remarked with a watery smile. "Tell me how much and I'll get it."
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Benton Borteillo
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: aka EON, Roswell Godfrey
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Wed Aug 01, 2018 4:00 pm

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Yaris 8, 2715....
She was strong, stronger than he had been. He recognized her story, nearly as his own. Her father had died and so had his mother. Each of their remaining parents had let the loss claim some of their life as their own. Both Benton and Aziza had taken the responsibility of their family into their own hands. They both seemed to feel that they had not quite made the right choices, but Aziza couldn't know that. Not yet.

Benton's eyebrows flexed upwards, and he could only watch as she cried. He hadn't meant to elicit the sadness that overcame her as she cried beside him, but, in a way, he was almost thankful to see it. So many of his interactions in his business and day to day were emotionless and inhumane. Everyone in the business did their best to keep their emotions hard and neutral, keep their demeanors strong and unwavering. No one took the time to care, to share, to speak more than what the deal was. As much as Benton fell victim to the same disease of a cold heart, the emotions he saw in those whose bright eyes were still unclouded by the dust of the streets of Old Rose. He only hoped that the emotions between the two witches would stay genuine and alive. If he couldn't retain the humanity and emotion he once had, then he could at least help someone else retain theirs.

Benton reached out to touch her as she cried, but, just inches between his fingers and his her shoulder, he hesitated. This wasn't his place. He was just a drug dealer, and she had offered to pay. He could name his price and leave, but, no, he would not. He could not just leave. He placed his hand firmly on her shoulder. The touch was tense and cold at first, but, with a sigh, he allowed his hand to relax, feeling the warmth of his hand and her shoulder mingle through the fabric of her blouse for a moment.

"I can't give you it for free, no, two shills are equivalent, but I don't think most people go anywhere looking for tears. That's the wonderful thing about emotion, isn't it? We can never completely expect it as much as we try, as much as we think we can," he comforted. He gave her shoulder a squeeze before letting his hand slide down her arm to rest on the top of her hand. He broke eye contact for a moment, glancing back at the kint before connecting with her again. "Thank you for sharing. I- I want to help you however I can, even if I can't do much." He pulled his hand away from hers, returning it to clasp his other hand in his lap.

"You're doing so well for you and your mother. Not every choice we make is the right choice, but you've made choices with good intentions. You saw her pain, and you made sacrifices to ease it. The results may not be exactly what you wanted, but you did what you could," he advised gently. "Simply doing is often so much more than what others even try." He was one of those others- he had not done, he had stood by, but he shook the thought away. This was her life, not his.

"Thank you for trusting me, too. I know it's not much when I don't return the same trust, but- I do trust you, even if I can't show you that I do." He kept his eyes down, down at his hands. He wanted, for a moment, to tell her his story, to reassure her she wasn't alone, that he had fought her fight and that she was doing better than he ever had.

But he couldn't. His face was visibly at war, his eyebrows and lip twitching with unrest. He had not felt compelled to share his story in so long, had not felt safe to, not since Deitrick. His safety was more important now, and his safety was kept in his identity. He wanted to trust Aziza, but, no, not yet. He was conflicted between becoming a friend to this girl and remaining just a drug dealer.

In hell I'll be in good company.
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