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POSTED ON Oct 4, 2020 16:40:22 GMT

"It's not the waking,
it's the rising."

Rolling dark clouds had threatened rain ever since early morning, locking the world below in a sort of early penumbra. The day had dawned cold and stagnant, not a drop of wind to be felt - and now a low mist rose between the tree trunks and over the river, adding to the whole mystique. Around Alecto, faux torches attempted to liven up the small ren-faire, casting flickering shadows everywhere she looked.

It was magnificent.

The woman sat in a plastic bench, leaning against one of the metallic beams supporting her tent-like stand. A plethora of books lay before her, most of then pertaining to some sort of mystical art. There were a couple about history and mythology too, and some interesting first editions. Most were trash, however. The real treasures Alecto kept safely guarded in her bookstore.

She blew on her hands, trying to warm up her frozen fingertips. That's what she got for not moving in close to an hour, pouring over her latest research notes. She needed a warm drink asap.

Her sharp green eyes fell on the moving crowds, appreciating the whole medieval aesthetic, but otherwise utterly disinterested. Maybe she could offer a discount to whoever brought her some of that warm mulled wine?

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POSTED ON Oct 14, 2020 19:08:04 GMT

[attr="class","spiral"]A festival is a weird drop off point, but Klara can't say it's the weirdest she's ever been to. At least it makes some sense. The place is packed with weirdos -- in armor, swallowing swords, dressed like clowns -- so who's going to pay attention to some random woman with a drawstring bag? Who's going to notice when she doesn't have it the next time they see her?

After the job is done Klara plans to just dip. This kind of scene isn't really for her and she doesn't like leaving her truck on its own for too long; but there's wine! Actually some really good wine, too. A couple glasses of that and suddenly she's thinking maybe this is her kind of scene and her truck is pushed to the back of her mind as she wanders around silently laughing at how ridiculous this place is.

Given some time she stumbles into what's probably some kind of market? She can't tell really, but it's got less pizzazz than the rest of the fair. Maybe this is her chance to wind down a bit and start preparing to leave. Window shopping's good for that.

She pulls a notepad from her back pocket as she stars browsing the various wares on display.

Most of it is sucky and cheesy: replica weapons, weird masks, some really well carved but still kinda ugly wooden figures. She's thinking she's about ready to go when a familiar, musty smell hits her. Old books. She's not exactly an avid reader these days, but it's nostalgic to flip through the pages a bit sometimes.

She fishes out a pen from her pocket as she turns to follow the scent. She scribbles a message into the notepad in her palm. Slaps it down on the counter covered in books.

Free to touch?

It reads in rough but legible handwriting.

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POSTED ON Oct 15, 2020 14:27:11 GMT

"It's not the waking,
it's the rising."

People watching had grown boring quickly enough. Not even the outlandish costumes and the several nearby medieval-themed contests could hold her attention for long. A breath of air escaped Alecto's mouth when she saw a kid running through the 'streets' holding a Honedge and waving it around like it was a toy. Two concerned parents soon followed, screaming at the misbehaving youth.

'Idiots.' If she were that Honedge, she would've drained that kid's life already. In fact, now that Alecto looked closely, the boy did look slightly grey. Huh. Served him right.

Her thoughts were interrupted by something slamming against the selection of books in front of her. An eyebrow went up at the words written in the small notepad and she took a couple of seconds to study the person who'd decided to haunt her small stand of books and oddities. Mostly books, though.

For a brief instant, Alecto wondered if the eyepatch was part of a costume or if it had a real purpose. Then the thought faded away as she opened her arms and gestured to the books. "Knock yourself out." The words came out bland and uninterested. She quickly gathered a few escaped pages of her own research, noting with a grimace that they'd overtaken a sizeable portion of the book selection.

Alecto was leaning back to resume her research when the smell of mulled wine distracted her. Green eyes subconsciously drifted to the wine vendor, then to her propective client.

Her fingers were freezing.

"Are you looking for anything in particular?"

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POSTED ON Oct 15, 2020 18:30:15 GMT

[attr="class","spiral"]Bland and uninterested fits the mood well as far is Klara is concerned. It's not like she's chomping at the bit to read, she just wants to indulge in a few familiar sensations for a bit. She feels over the worn cover of a book and delicately flips it open. Without even reading the first few pages she flips through nonchalantly -- breathing in through her nose to catch the smell that wafts off the pages.

The only thing Klara really needed from the bookkeeper was permission to handle her books, and with that out of the way there isn't much to draw her attention back to the other woman. Her research note, her wandering eyes, her cold hands, they all go unnoticed as she mindlessly flips through the book she'd picked at random. It's only when the bookkeep speaks up again that she re-earns Klara's attention.

She blinks her one eye slowly and thoughtfully at the question. Is there anything specific she's looking for? She was kind of thinking she'd flip through a book for a bit and then leave, but maybe she could pick up something . . . She pulls her notebook from the counter and scratches out a few words onto the next blank page.

Fairytales. Anything cheap?

It's a childish ask, but if Klara notices it herself or cares it doesn't show. She slaps down the small notebook the same way she had previously and then simply stares at the other woman, awaiting an answer.

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POSTED ON Oct 15, 2020 20:34:22 GMT

"It's not the waking,
it's the rising."

Alecto wondered why the woman was so keen on slamming the notepad down onto her books. Was it like some sort of exclamation point? Or was it some sort of tic or twitch, like those people who subconsciously bit their lips?

She swept her green eyes over the notepad and hmmed in thought. In lieu of actually answering, Alecto took a look at the chaotic mess of books in front of her and sorted through a few of them.

After a minute or so she presented Klara with a book: leather bound and aged, it was decorated with beautiful golden filigree and had a detailed illustration on its cover. "This is an antique edition of a classic fairytale book. Not the sort you would read to children. The tales are a bit... intense." Most of the characters ended up either dead, cursed, disfigurated or a mixture of the three. Yet it was a beautiful old book. And it was not cheap.

"If you are looking for something cheap..." The dark-haired woman slammed down a second-hand coloring book whose edges were fraying. The misfortunate Magikarp on its cover had been painted in horrid tones of brown and green.

The smile Alecto gave Klara was as sharp as those Honedge people kept toting around like toys. "I am not opposed to negotiations, however."

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POSTED ON Oct 15, 2020 23:02:04 GMT

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[attr="class","spiral"]The first book laid out in front of Klara piques her interest. There's something familiar about it, but she can't quite figure out what that familiar something is. Not that it matters. Even before the other woman speaks up she can guess this book doesn't match her outlined criteria of "cheap". Words like "antique" being thrown around only confirms it.

When the second book is pulled out a grin cracks across her face and there's a short snort as air blows through her nose. It's ridiculous. Klara is fairly certain it's meant to be, some subtle way to push her to haggle for the big book or at least reconsider her budget, but still -- it's ridiculous. Her hand shakes slightly as she scribbles a few words into her notebook. Again she slaps it down.

Not exactly a fairytale.

She shakes her head and snorts again, looking up after a moment to meet the woman's sharp eyes with her much less serious one. Her still-present grin is easy and friendly.

At the mention of negotiations she blows air through her nose again. The knowledge that she saw this coming only slightly less amusing than the crudely colored Magikarp she'd been shown a moment ago. A part of her considers leaving then and there, she wasn't really here to buy a book anyway, but perhaps as thanks for the free entertainment she instead jots down some more words. Places the notebook back down more gently this time, taps the message she's written with her index finger.

What kind? For the first book.

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POSTED ON Oct 16, 2020 3:23:46 GMT

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🎃TRICK-or-TREAT!

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A PUMPKABOO FLOATS BY with a treat clasped underneath its tiny fangs. both of you receive the following:[break][break]

[break][break]
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alecto rowe @klara

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POSTED ON Oct 17, 2020 12:19:02 GMT

"It's not the waking,
it's the rising."

Klara's amusement was met with a slight quirk of an eyebrow, but little else. The words quickly written on the notepad, however, made Alecto's lips twitch. "Not a fairytale, no. I assure you it is equally amusing, however." The Magikarp was only one of the several artistic renditions in the book after all.

The bookseller did not miss the flash of interest in the other woman's eye at the sight of the first book. It was a beautiful antique tome, after all. Alecto actually had one like it in her own house, as part of her collection. From Klara's earlier request, however, Alecto assumed the other woman might not have enough money to purchase it. No matter.

Silence hung in the air as Alecto read the words on Klara's notepad. The sounds from the surrounding ren-faire began to filter in while the dark-haired woman thought, cries of laughing children and enthusiastic medieval merchants echoing around them.

Eventually, her eyes lifted to focus on Klara's face, studying its shape in silence and considering. "If I were to keep in spirit with the festival, I suppose I should ask for your soul or your first-born." The words left her mouth in a deadpan manner and for a moment it looked as if she really was thinking about those options.

Then her focus shifted to something behind Klara and she continued. "But I have no interest in those things. Do you see that vendor over there?" And she pointed to the mulled wine vendor by the side of the road. "I will sell you this book for two mugs of that mulled wine." If she was pulling Klara's leg, there was no hint of it in her expression.

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POSTED ON Oct 17, 2020 19:33:28 GMT

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[attr="class","spiral"]This woman is funny. Klara can claim that confidently after she speaks up again. The book, the obvious setup for negotiations, the hammy line about the fair and her soul or whatever. It's all gold whether she intends it to be or not. Klara's smiling wide as she scribbles a quick response.

Can't say I'd miss either too much.

It's a good routine the other woman has. This deadpan, snarky bit where she says the most ridiculous shit and her face doesn't even twitch. Like the next thing she throws out after looking off over Klara's shoulder.

She spots the mulled wine stall before the stranger begins her request, and knows where things are going before she begins speaking again. Turned fully away from her, it would be hard for the other woman to see the way her nose flares and her lips quiver; but the shake of her shoulders should give away her fresh laughter well enough.

When she turns around to write in her notebook again she's still cupping her face and gasping for air. Her handwriting suffers for it, her letters are wavy and uneven when her response is offered up.

Yeah, sure. Those both for you?

There's a teasing implication in the second line, punctuated by a more subdued, taunting grin Klara shoots her way (while still wiping a stray tear from her eye).

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POSTED ON Oct 18, 2020 10:49:07 GMT

"It's not the waking,
it's the rising."

It was impossible to miss the flash of amusement in moss-green eyes when Alecto read the words on the notepad, their sardonic tone feeling familiar. Her countenance was still mostly serious, but she was perhaps holding herself a little less rigidly as she found the grin on the other woman's face.

"If you value your soul so cheaply, maybe I should have asked for it after all." Was that a teasing edge to her voice?

A book for a soul and two mugs of mulled wine. It sounded like a deal made in one of those gritty fairytales the woman was so keen on buying. Give Alecto a few more ren-faires and she'd eventually grow into the hag she had always meant to be.

The woman met the silent laughter with a raised eyebrow, watching shoulders shake from inside her tent-like arrangement. Klara's next words and her following grin managed to (surprisingly) pry a low, warm chuckle out of the green-eyed woman. It was gone in an instant, but remnants of it lingered in the ever so slight curl of her lips. "Feel free to get one for yourself, if you so wish. But I'd still like two mugs of mulled wine for myself, so you'll have to go there twice. The wine cools rapidly." There was a small pause. "Plus, I would not be adverse to some company."

Alecto had her research to distract her, but she was also aware that she ought to take a breather every once in a while. Distance was important if you were hoping to gain a new perspective on certain things. This woman, fortunately, didn't seem nearly as mind-bogglingly boring as the other people she'd had the misfortune of meeting in this fair.

And she would finally be able to warm her fingers.

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POSTED ON Oct 18, 2020 21:11:45 GMT

[attr="class","spiral"]A grim joke about her soul and deteriorating value crosses Klara's mind, but it feels too heavy for the banter they've established. Not to mention the punchline requires setup that could land her in jail. So instead she just smiles a bit wider at the dower woman's burgeoning wit. Then a bit wider again as she shows it off more.

She was expecting the stranger to be a bit of a one-trick pony. Straight-faced and straight-laced. The proposition was meant to put a chink in her armor, maybe earn a scandalized moment, but her easy deflection is perhaps better. It's certainly more interesting. When she came to the market she'd done so with the intent of sobering up before heading home. Now, though? She can't say she'd mind another drink. The familiar scratch of pen on paper fills the air for a moment.

Two trips?

The message is followed by a quick, hammy flex of her arms. Her work is physical, almost exclusively. Moving boxes of pokeballs, chasing down rare finds, not to mention all the ridiculous missions Rocket sends her on. Two trips. Not on her life. Not for three mugs. Not for the four she's planning on grabbing.

I'll be right back.

Klara winks before heading off to the stand the other woman had pointed out. She leaves her notepad behind, strong or not her hands were going to be full with handles and there was no way the notepad could accompany her without risking being ruined by a splash or two of wine. Thankfully, ordering is easy even without the notepad. All she has to do is point and hold up a few fingers to get her order through. A mouthed "thank you" satisfies the vendor as she hands over the money he's owed.

True to her word, Klara comes back with all the mugs in one trip. Her bare biceps flex on both of her arms but she doesn't break a sweat. It's hard to find spaces to put all the wine, but Klara manages (thought not without catching stray pages underneath here and there). Once everything's settled she reaches for her notepad once again. Scratch scratch.

Company's gonna cost ya. A name should cover it.

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POSTED ON Oct 18, 2020 22:49:28 GMT

"It's not the waking,
it's the rising."

The most physically taxing activity Alecto did on a daily basis (or ever) was shelving books, either because she was restocking, redecorating or simply because people couldn't be bothered to return books to their proper shelves (filthy creatures). So when Klara flexed her arms, Alecto found her eyes drifting to the clearly defined muscles.

Yet when her eyes lifted to Klara's face there was an expression of 'am I supposed to be impressed' clearly imprinted across her face. A keen sort of amusement shone in her eyes, which only grew at the wink sent her way. "Don't get lost," was Alecto's parting shot. Not that she was actually worried, the vendor was right there.

As she waited for the other woman to come back, Alecto would start prepping the antique fairytale book for travel. Her hands worked swiftly as she wrapped the book in several layers of protective fabric made specifically for this purpose. With rain threatening to fall, Alecto didn't want to risk the book being ruined.

At the sight of warm, delicious mulled wine coming her way, Alecto did her best to arrange some space for Klara to set the mugs. A few pages of her research ended up under the mugs, which made the dark-haired woman release a hissed curse. She quickly gathered the loose pages and put them behind her.

The sound of pen on paper caught her attention and she leaned forward to read Klara's words. "Already learning the fine art of negotiating, I see." There was a taunt somewhere in those words.

"Alecto," she finally answered. Reaching under the table, the bookseller slid a small bench Klara's way, just in case the woman wanted to sit. Then, without further ado, Alecto's fingers wrapped around a mug and she took a sip of the delightfully warm and spicy drink. The resulting sigh of pleasure was genuine. Both because the wine was really good (as Alecto knew it would be) and because she finally felt warm.

"Why fairytales?" Klara's naked interest had caught Alecto's own. Her eyes bore into the woman's single one as the bookseller lovingly nursed her mulled wine.

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POSTED ON Oct 19, 2020 2:55:46 GMT

[attr="class","spiral"]Klara can't help rolling her eyes at the negotiation comment. She wants to rebut, but she's too slow without a voice to interject with. So she instead holds onto her reply as she gets the name she requested. Alecto. It's certainly interesting, and interesting certainly fits the woman in front of her. She gets to work turning the two replies to one in her notepad.

Nice to meet you, my name's Klara.

She flips the page after a second.

And negotiation is old hat for me.

Making deals is practically second nature to her at this point, even the flirty ones like exchanging names for drinks. Freshman year of high school she started her slow road to career criminal selling skunkweed to her peers. There's a lot Alecto is giving to her right now, but lessons in salesmanship aren't any of them.

With her pride properly managed, Klara finally accepts the bench offered to her and pulls her own two mugs of mulled wine close. She takes up one of them in her left hand and starts to drain it. It's halfway gone when Alecto asks her question. The warmth hits her gut and she can't help but smile as it spreads through the rest of her. This stuff is so good!

It takes her a second to remember she's been asked something, but when she does she sets down her drink, reaches for her notepad, and quickly scribbles something down. She pushes it to the center of the counter between them.

No real reason. Just an urge.

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POSTED ON Oct 19, 2020 13:39:48 GMT

"It's not the waking,
it's the rising."

Klara. Alecto sounded out the name, rolling it around in her mouth like she was tasting it. She was not sure the name fit the woman drinking mulled wine on the other side of the counter across from her. She'd imagined the woman to have a less feminine name, but that's what you got when you went about making assumptions. They always came back to prove you wrong. "Lovely to meet you, Klara."

The green-eyed woman hid a grin behind her mug of wine at the other's comment about being good at negotiations. "So I see." Alecto motioned to a wrapped bundle on the counter between the two of them. "I took the liberty of preparing your fairytale book for travel while you were away." Her hand stretched out to give the bundle a small pat. "I hope you enjoy its contents." By the way her eyes grew softer, it was clear that Alecto - despite her apparent serious personality - held a special place in her heart for books.

"An urge?" The woman was about to say something else when her face abruptly turned stony at the sight of one of her first editions being waved around violently by a (drunken?) guy, who had turned around and was screaming something at his friends. When it seemed like the man was going to simply walk away with the book, Alecto decided that is was time to do something. "Saint."

The temperature around the tent grew several degrees colder. Razor-sharp teeth clicked together inches away from the man's suddenly pale face, the Sableye cackling with glee as it fed on the fear it'd just caused.

"You have something that do not belongs to you." Alecto had stood up, catching the man's eyes. She felt as cold as the sudden shift in temperature. "I suggest you return it."

Her expression didn't change as the accepted the book from the babbling man's hands. She didn't react to his apologies, giving him an icy look that thankfully sent him on his way.

Situation dealt with, Alecto returned to her bench, a grinning Sableye perched on her shoulder and purring in her ear. The woman ignored him. "Morons," she scoffed, "I swear they are everywhere."

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POSTED ON Oct 20, 2020 0:17:53 GMT

[attr="class","spiral"]There's a growing ease in Klara as her conversation with Alecto drags on. They've hit a nice rhythm in their back and forth, and the other woman only proves more interesting every time her turn comes back up. The faintest signs of a grin Klara thinks she sees hidden behind a sip of wine is the latest. It's almost exciting -- watching the other woman open up more and more (in the slightest of ways) over their short time together. She moves the bundled up book to her side of the counter and gives it a couple pats herself before pushing a fresh message to the space between them.

I'm sure I will.

It's rare Klara meets someone willing (capable, even) of showing off so many sides of themselves in a single encounter. Especially given the lifestyle she leads. Alecto is eminently interesting in this respect. To go from dower, to teasing, to almost tender; and to do so in front of a stranger so freely. It's something Klara definitely couldn't do. She wonders what else Alecto can show her.

When someone starts messing around with Alecto's merchandise Klara is, then, initially excited that she might get to see yet another face of the woman. She goes to take another long drink of mulled wine (content to watch the show from a distance) but when she's about halfway through lifting the mug she stops dead. The mug tips, but spills into her lap instead of her mouth. It takes a moment for her to respond, her eye (all her focus) has zeroed in so intensely on the scene in front of her.

The Sableye. The sight of it brings with it a chill on her skin and the musty smell of damp earth. She freezes for a few seconds.

Her senses return to her before Alecto finishes interacting with the drunk and she's a flurry of movement. A handkerchief is pulled out of the back pocket of her jeans and she tries to quickly dab away at the wine seeping into her pantleg. The first, now practically empty mug of wine is dropped unceremoniously next to the other, full one as she does this. It spins on its bottom for a moment before settling in place (miraculously) upright.

Klara's eye is on her damp lap and her attempts to dry it with the handkerchief when Alecto returns. She misses the words the woman says and looks up with the intent of writing down a request for her to repeat herself, but once again freezes. Instead of replying in any way she just stares at the Sableye perched on Alecto's shoulder. Her heart beats violently against her chest and her one eye is wide open, her pupil dilated.

The excitement and amusement from earlier have evaporated. When she grabs her notepad she leaves sweaty finger indents on the page. When she scribbles out a quick message the pen wobbles between her fingers and her so-far clear and legible handwriting sees an obvious dip in quality. She slaps it onto the counter as she gets up and reaches for her second mug.

Gotta go, actually.

She remembers to grab her book with her free hand as she makes to head out, places the sweat-stained notepad on top of it before picking them both up.