[P] Sierra Myst
Siora | Myst
#1
[Image: emerald.png]   Grand Quest - Prompt #5   [338/1000] When is a thief not a thief?: An ill-reputation is sure to spread, maybe someone noticed you sneaking home with the goods, perhaps the fame of your name has reached a little too far and wide? However it happens, a false accusation is still a ringing mark against you! Wriggle you way out of this defamation, whether by crying libel and slander, providing an alibi to your activities, employing your silver-tongue or quite literally fleeing the situation, escaping this complaint is the goal.

[+338] | Ooc: pNPC Ridgewell

┊He was living his life in a fog,
┊Oblivion’s welcoming arms;
┊His view of society marred,
┊No perception of forces at large.


➤ Snow bunched about his legs, though thankfully his pants kept it from sinking into his fur just yet. A blessing, really. He truly did detest winter in its own ways. Unless the chance of hopping right next to a warm fire and bundling in a good cloak was in his very immediate future, it was a no-go usually. He was, however, waiting for Arran today. Or had had been.

Siora, instead, had joined him out in the snow. She was a wee little thing, with some kind of moon-mark branded onto her forehead. While not quite as happy-happy-joy-joy as her cousin, she was a personable woman, kinda spooky in a fun way. In short, she was a laugh to be around, and Benji found himself needing a laugh here and now as the winter SADs got him down.

He weren't quite too sure if he believed in mystical powers that be, was somewhat openly scornful of the gods, but the idea of having his fortune or future told tickled something within him.

"Alrighty dhen. Show me watcha got, future." Probably nothing good, but Lady Luck could sometimes he schmoozed into giving him a good hand.

Benji didn't claim to understand how tarot worked, or what it meant in the grand scheme of things. But they'd barely begun at all when their little get-together was gate-crashed by the Big Man himself.

"Yo, Ridgewell." He barked, greeting the man with a wave. He thought it was Perkins trailing after the barkeep this time, but wasn't too sure. Ridgewell grunted in greeting, and dithered a moment before cutting straight to the chase. Ridgewell had a gruff, low voice, that resonated deeply, and Benjamin was almost jealous of its timbre and qualities.

<"Some of my stuff's missing. Gardening stuff. Was wondering if you knew where it went.">

Given that he'd never been accused of stealing gardening stuff before, Benji was momentarily nonplussed, and looked at Siora with eyebrows raised.
Benjamin Michael Winthrop
Welcome, to your paradise;
avatar by Kiri | player wiki | character wiki
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#2
WC: 644

When Siora was doing a reading, she liked to put on her favorite blue shawl and several thin metal bangle bracelets, which bumped together, adding sound to the experience. She also liked to set up a little tent-type thing. Before, this was a piece of fabric which was held up in the middle with a pole. After moving to Portland, this had changed to a decorative fishing net (which was never used for that purpose and therefore did not smell like fish, thank you) decorated with shells, sea glass, and dried flowers. Some were woven into the net and others were dangling from it. It was pinned to the ground on each side of her, framing her.

She had set up behind Arran’s house where her wagon was parked, figuring that was easiest because it meant she wouldn’t have to carry her stuff around. They were still visible to pack members walking by, though, which was fine. Given the religion and gods she had learned about from her father, she had worried at first that her own beliefs may not be welcome here. Arran had quickly set her at ease as far as that went.

Between Siora and Benji was a small table where she would put the spread of cards. On one corner of the table was a piece of caribou antler that stood upright, leaning against a pretty chunk of rock that had some sort of crystals inside of it. Some of her relatives were brave (or dumb) enough to include candles on their tables, but she was way too afraid of losing her cards to fire. Right now, she felt that her table should be simple, so that was what she went with. Sometimes the table was also adorned with sea glass, carved bone or wooden trinkets, or other things that felt right for that day.

Before pulling the cards, she took a couple of deep breaths and thought about what Benji wanted to know, which was a typical request for insight about the future. It would be fun to see how these cards could be interpreted for his life. She very carefully shuffled the cards and set out three of them. The cards themselves were mostly black ink on paper, some of which had pressed flowers incorporated into them. The flowers were part of the symbolism. Others had simple illustrations of flowers, animals, trees, and other things like that. Creating the deck had taken a lot of time and work. While she didn’t do the whole process herself, she was part of the process the whole way because it was meant to be unique to her, so the cards needed to resonate. She had even done some of the illustrations herself.

She had just picked up the first card to turn it over when the reading was suddenly interrupted. Siora jumped a little, not expecting that, before turning to look at who this ‘Ridgewell’ was. He was unfamiliar to her, so she looked back to Benji, who obviously knew him.

The question from Ridgewell seemed innocent enough for a second, but when Benji didn’t immediately answer, she got the feeling that Ridgewell was really asking if Benji had stolen them. What a strange thing to ask a pack member. Siora wasn’t sure she would have an immediate response to that sort of accusation being directed at her, ether. She tried to chalk it up to the weird stuff going on right now, but still. Her expression transformed to a smile that was slightly sharp than it was friendly as she looked at Ridgewell again.

“Are you implying that he stole them?” Siora asked, tilting her head. “I don’t think Arran would be friends with a thief.” She may not know Benji well, but her cousin was much too nice and honest for that.
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#3
[Image: emerald.png]   Grand Quest - Prompt #5   [810/1000] When is a thief not a thief?: An ill-reputation is sure to spread, maybe someone noticed you sneaking home with the goods, perhaps the fame of your name has reached a little too far and wide? However it happens, a false accusation is still a ringing mark against you! Wriggle you way out of this defamation, whether by crying libel and slander, providing an alibi to your activities, employing your silver-tongue or quite literally fleeing the situation, escaping this complaint is the goal.

[+472] | Ooc: pNPC Ridgewell

┊He was living his life in a fog,
┊Oblivion’s welcoming arms;
┊His view of society marred,
┊No perception of forces at large.


➤ She had a swanky set up, all very mystical and spooky. He liked it, it appealed to his dramatic sense of self that lingered just below the surface. Benji was a stage-man at heart, his gambling and performative self all tailored and tainted to give the best of impressions. Of course, his core self was there too, he couldn't ever lose those pieces of who he truly was; And there was Hokori, who knew him entirely, warts and ugly parts and all. They weren't exactly the same, but like called to like in more way than one.

Before he could even think to formulate a response to Ridgewell's not quite accusation, Siora leapt to his defense, with a wickedly sharp smile that didn't reach her eyes. Oooh, that was extra chilling. He'd not expected her to, honestly, and it was a surprise still that there were people that would speak for him. It almost had him feeling kinda guilty that he wasn't what they thought he was. Ahh well, c'est la vie, and all that.

"I'm thinkin' he is, Siora." He smiled, a tight, controlled thing.

"Yeah man. An' if'n I was a theef fer truth, why on Mercy's earth would I be stealin' yer gardenin' tools? Think man, that ain't make too much sense dhere." Ridgewell harrumped, and crossed his arms, looking from Benji to Siora, uncertain but not quite convinced.

<"Well, you know, I hear things, sometimes. Things that aren't too nice about you.">

Benji snorted, waving off the very true words that Ridgewell spoke.

"Y'hear things from drunks at dhe bar? They's drunk, or high on sumthin' else. 'Course they's gon be talkin' smack boutt'a man dhat ain't dhere to defend himself. You're askin' me true, right? If'n I took yer tools?" Ridgewell nodded, his mouth thinning into an uncomfortable line. Benjamin was sure he'd never meant to have it definitively stated, easier to deny that way if someone got upset but Benji forced the truth from him. Rolling his eyes, he glanced at Siora again, shrugging his shoulders before looking back to Ridgewell, idealizing just the right amount of annoyed and exasperated.

"I ain't took nuthin' from you, my man." Benjamin spoke, entirely truthful, "I been sat right here, with Siora and we's been havin' us a nice con-ver-sasion afore you came along interruptin' us." He tutted, shaking his head, and furrowing his brow. He could honestly say he'd never actually stolen from his fellow Caledonians, maybe borrowed a thing here or there but he'd always returned it. Benji didn't shit where he ate, that was just stupid and he were many things but he weren't a stupid man.
Benjamin Michael Winthrop
Welcome, to your paradise;
avatar by Kiri | player wiki | character wiki
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#4
WC: 628

Her response seemed to help Benji find his voice. That was really what she was going for; sometimes others just needed a second to think before they came back with their thoughts organized. Besides, Arran basically considered Benji to be family, so that made him Siora’s family, too. Maybe she shouldn’t be so quick to speak out that way in a new pack, but it was too late to change it.

“What would you do with garden tools in the winter, anyway?” Siora asked him. “Can’t really dig anything. I don’t really know of any pruning that would be done now.” Then again, that did mean that it was probably a good time to steal them if the point had been to trade them away. It would have taken longer for the theft to be noticed. At the same time, having someone rummaging around the gardening tools might be more obvious for the same reason: what use are they now?

Siora was holding the first card she was going to turn over for Benji and as she glanced down, intending to set it back on the table, she caught sight of the symbol. Interesting... Seven of Swords. The card had a dried green leaf pressed into the paper, with blank ink over the top, illustrating the sword and showing which one it was. Some of her cards were less literal than this; there was a variety as far as that went, but because they were all made of the same materials, the deck flowed. Most importantly, the deck spoke to her. It was different from her mom’s deck and from the ones her sisters had. Part of their rite of passage included designing their deck. Her family believed that the more involved they were with the process, the better the decks would work for them. She wasn’t an expert in making paper or anything now, but it had been fun to help. Even before she shifted, she was out gathering flowers to dry.

The card itself symbolized deception or betrayal, but could also indicate using strategy in a less negative way. She placed it face down in its spot, figuring they would get to that when this other guy finally went away. Arran had interesting friends, and now she was really looking forward to seeing what Benji’s other two cards were. That one had been his ‘past’ card. What would be coming next for his ‘present’ card? For now, she turned her attention back to the conversation at hand. The faster Benji’s accuser buzzed off, the faster they could get back to this reading. The good thing was that Siora had already pulled the cards, so having things interrupted wouldn’t affect her flow, and she didn’t have to start all over from the beginning part way through setting out the spread. If that had happened, she would have been annoyed and might have had to postpone it until a little later on.

“Drunks at a bar don’t really seem like they’d be good sources of information,” Siora stated in a matter of fact tone with a frown. “I’ve seen a lot of them exaggerate things while telling stories, trying to impress the people around them. Or just being ridiculous in general.” Or they got each other all whipped up until no one knew what they were even talking about anymore. He really needed to get a better source of information if he was going to go around tossing out accusations like that. Even if it didn’t affect Benji’s reputation in the pack since he obviously hadn’t taken the tools, it could harm this guy’s because now he looked like a liar.
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#5
[Image: emerald.png]   Grand Quest - Prompt #5   [1235/1000] When is a thief not a thief?: An ill-reputation is sure to spread, maybe someone noticed you sneaking home with the goods, perhaps the fame of your name has reached a little too far and wide? However it happens, a false accusation is still a ringing mark against you! Wriggle you way out of this defamation, whether by crying libel and slander, providing an alibi to your activities, employing your silver-tongue or quite literally fleeing the situation, escaping this complaint is the goal.

[+425] | Ooc: pNPC Ridgewell

┊He was living his life in a fog,
┊Oblivion’s welcoming arms;
┊His view of society marred,
┊No perception of forces at large.


"She's got a real good point dhere, on top of what I've already said." Between the two of them they seemed to be wearing down Ridgewell's stance, and that was good, because he was tiring of this conversation and like Siora wanted to get back to their previously scheduled activities. Out of the corner of his eye he caught Siora turning over his first card and felt a giddy thrill.

Ridgewell frowned harder, if that was even possible and shuffled uneasily again.

"Look man, what you want from me? I don't got yer shit, an' I ain't know who might, dhough y'might wanna check with one of them folks 'as works with th'storage an' th'like. They might've moved stuff around. Dat'd be my first thought rather than goin' 'round accusin' people who you're thinkin' is a bad kind."

It didn't bother him, people below his radar weren't worth the energy expended to consider their opinions. Frowning more openly, Benji made as though he was going to stand, though he'd no intention to do so, and Ridgewell took a step back.

<"I'm not going to fight you.">

"Yer thinkin' I was wantin' t'fight? Naw, I'm gonna go witcha t'th'storage, since yer so obviously thinkin' I dun it." That was the finaly straw, Ridgewell backed up another step, snaking his head, brows furrowed.

<"No, no. Sorry, I'm.. you're right. People do talk when they're drunk. Sorry for bothering you.">

With that the gruff man turned and strode away, leaving them momentarily silent.

"Well, dhat was wierd." Pressing his mouth together into a thin line, Benji looked after the retreating back a second, and then turned to Siora and reached to rest his paw on hers for a moment, a gesture of his gratitude , "Thank y'kindly fer defendin' me, not too many willing t'do sumthin' like dhat fer me." Though he had no hat, he touched his finger to his head in feignment of doing so.

And, mushy things over, Benji clapped his hands together, eagerly looking over the pretty flower-pressed tarot deck and the one flipped card, wondering what was in store for him by the mystic might of fate's wheels,  "Well, shall we be finishin' what we started dhen, huh?" Glinting golden within his hand, Benji flipped his shiny coin, a constant companion, and rolled it between his fingers, letting the coin fall end over end from finger to finger.
Benjamin Michael Winthrop
Welcome, to your paradise;
avatar by Kiri | player wiki | character wiki
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