<table width="90%" style="background-color: #4F2F4F; " cellpadding=10><tr><td style="background-color: darkcyan;"> <font face=verdana color=gold style="font-size:15pt; font-family: serif; line-height:6pt; font-weight: strong;"> p h e t ' k n i s . m o i</font></td></tr> <tr><td> <font face=verdana color=white style="font-size:8pt;"> WHO: Phet'knis and... WHEN: Dyo. 81382. 34. The thick afternoon heat of the land set in without announcement. For some this temperature was an excuse to depart from the market and take to the shade for a mid-day nap. While the feydragon certainly wouldn't have opposed this idea, she remained behind her station seated laxly atop a stool with her lengthy legs crossed over another. It was too bothersome to quit the scene and tuck her coveted specimens back into their baskets and further annoying to shoulder said woven baskets back onto her petite form. Even with all those tasks accomplished, she'd still have to meander the unfamiliar territory in search of some fictional tree. All those things considered Phet'knis thought it better to recline with taught lips and glimmering eyes behind her booth. Perhaps the heat would bring new arrivals, strangers who were more willing to peruse the market during quieter, albeit hotter, times. Overhead the sun, the redveja, grew pregnant and burned in brilliant licks of scorching yellow. Her booth was underwhelming in appearance, but her merchandise quite the contrary. The booth lacked decoration, unlike its neighbours, save for a single clean white cloth hung overtop a wooden desk. Atop it were objects of... morbid delight. Neatly displayed atop the white were necklaces of waxed cord and various small mammalian heads, dried with skin tight against the skull. All subjects had their eyes shut, some of them with evident thread sewing them that way. Several veiny ears were stitched together to create a lampshade for a ribcage lamp. One pickled fetus, hard to define it was in such a state of youth, and the body of a small nyoto excavated to make a small change purse. But these objects were mere toys to the centre-piece: a skinned carcass of a cessi, legs placed awkwardly erect in the natural strut, donning ribcage wings. Unlike the other objects, this one had been stripped of its hide and had only what was beneath the flesh to show. It was a parade of veins, muscle, and bone -- all coated in Christmas-coloured red. The cessi perched atop a piece of finely wrought wood and had a plaque in the front that read "The Sweet Cessi". Glassy marble eyeballs had been stuck into the gaping sockets and glinted from the overhead sun. It was a veritable spectacle. And behind said spectacle was Phet'knis Moi, expression mild and disinterested, dressed in a long bisque-hued scarf. Phet'knis reached down and encircled the neck of her glass carafe with her digits. The container's contents were a translucent magenta and were about as viscous as water might be. Cooled by a layer of crushed ice, the liquid flowed down the thill's throat and sated her thirst while doing nothing for her hunger. The thought ignored and the carafe replaced, she had in its place a string of beads and a book made of crumbling parchment. One hand became immersed in the gentle and rhymthic fingering of the onyx-coloured beads while the other made perch for the read. Thus she let time consume itself. </td></tr></table>
<div align="center"><table><tr><td width=400><div align="center"></div></td></tr><tr><td width=400><div align="justify"><span style='font-size:8pt;line-height:100%'>Musa was feeling good, better than good, she may even have endeavored to say she felt great. She was on medication again, she was making money, she was good, life was good. So far the Black Market had been as wonderful a place to blow khasi as she remembered. Some trading was still done in gold pieces and gems, but khasi was slowly becoming more common. She'd bought a new set of needles for tattooing and almost more inks than she knew what do do with. She passed by a near invisible stall, then doubled back. The stall wasn't by any means small, but its lack of decoration forced the eye to the centerpiece. Musa recognized it immediately as a cessi. It had been stripped and preserved and should have been grotesque, but it was some how, almost pleasant to look at. She stepped close to the cessi, very careful not to touch, but close enough that it may have made the artist, for art it was, uncomfortable. Realizing this, she stepped away and began to make her way around the booth, taking in the tastefully morbid sculptures and jewelry. Once again, she stopped, this time in front of what appeared to be a fetus. It was in a jar, submersed in what she only could assume was an embalming liquid of sorts. <span style='color:red'>"Brilliant,"</span> she breathed, finally turning to who she assumed was the artist. There was a feydragon sitting at the desk, deeply immersed in both her book and what appeared to be a necklace. Around her were shrunken heads hanging on cords. <span style='color:red'>"You do all this yourself?"</span> she asked, shifting her tattooing supplies from one arm to the other.</span></div></td></tr></table> </div>
<table width="90%" style="background-color: #4F2F4F; " cellpadding=10><tr><td style="background-color: darkcyan;"> <font face=verdana color=gold style="font-size:15pt; font-family: serif; line-height:6pt; font-weight: strong;"> p h e t ' k n i s . m o i</font></td></tr> <tr><td> <font face=verdana color=white style="font-size:8pt;"> She carried on reading through the passage. Her fingers did not cease their continual fondling of the beads. Phet'knis, despite the attention, was unchanged. While the warmth of hospitality would've aided in the selling of her wares, the feydragon was not inclined to offer an uninvited smile without the proper provocation. This stranger's fascination did evoke a chord of pleasure but it was passable. A lot was passable. Even Musa's unwelcome nearness to the skin-stripped cessi was passable. Normally this would've elicited a tenebrous noise from the thill, but she was smart and knew not to trust the patrons of the Black Market; she'd carefully glued, by means stringing together a few incantations, the display piece to the desk. The magic wasn't anything impermeable but it was the very least of preventative measures she could do. The spells, she blamed, were the cause of her hunger and the agitation augmenting in her. These two things, both, she ignored with very practised patience. But it was impossible to suppress them completely. <font color=gold>"I did,"</font> she responded. At this point she'd drawn her muzzle up to take a good look of the stranger visiting her stall. It was no surprise to Phet that she'd been talking to a female, but when she looked up she felt a slight bolt of startlement. The thill was hoary and seemed disjointed. 'At least I won't want to have her skin,' she thought perversely while taking to eye the thill's face, 'But her body...' The thought snaked away quietly. It was her first time on Market, so she felt doubly awkward and had no idea what the appropriate next choice of words could be. She should attempt to sell her goods, no? <font color=gold>"Des anything interhest you?"</font> </td></tr></table>
<div align="center"><table><tr><td width=400><div align="center"></div></td></tr><tr><td width=400><div align="justify"><span style='font-size:8pt;line-height:100%'>Looking at the wares one the desk in front of the fey, fingers next to, but not touching, tracing the fine pendants of preserved death. It all interested her, it was like being in an exquisite candy store, she wanted to own all of it, but knew she had neither the money nor the space for them. She looked up when Phet answered her, just as a reflex that she had heard her. Musa stepped back from the desk and paced back over to the shelf lined with jars, examining the one that held the fetus. There were other, brighter, objects, but this was by far the most interesting, she vaguely mused to how the fetus could have gotten into Phet's tender care, smiling to herself at the thought. <span style='color:red'>"Mmm, this one is fantastic, what was it?"</span> she asked, what she really wanted to know was how the fetus had been preserved, it was eye catching to say the least. Though she wasn't about to ask, the artist may have found that to be a bit of an insult, so she could keep the question to herself.</span></div></td></tr></table> </div> <span style='width:100%;font-weight:bold; font-size:10px'>Out of Character</span> <table class='ooc'><tr><td>sorry it's short and I haven't posted in forever >_></td></tr></table>
<table width="90%" style="background-color: #4F2F4F; " cellpadding=10><tr><td style="background-color: darkcyan;"> <font face=verdana color=gold style="font-size:15pt; font-family: serif; line-height:6pt; font-weight: strong;"> p h e t ' k n i s . m o i</font></td></tr> <tr><td> <font face=verdana color=white style="font-size:8pt;"> OOC: That's okay. :3 Her eyes tapered briefly as they absorbed the image of the fetus immersed in clear liquid. The unborn life looked as if it'd been freshly stripped from its mother's warm womb, save for that it was free of any bloody, crimson debris that might've followed in its removal. For something so cleverly preserved it was tiny. Then again the fey had fingers nimble and quick... It was a gift in the midst of a delightful meal, Phet'knis wanted to reply with her lips coiled in a dirty smirk. She refrained.<font color=gold>"That was a Tmyfrommi. Mother was'caught in th' Pwa desert -- not something one comes across very of'en. Why does it interest you so, mmn?"</font> Most that'd entertained her booth were drawn to the larger, more vibrant piece in the centre. The fetus was interesting to most in due to its size, and it's large, peculiarly coloured eyes. But it hadn't received much attention. Because this topic being something of ease to the arden she failed to stumble, like she did so often, on her words. Another visitor was fast approaching, his strut swift and careful despite the intense attire of body-masking fabric. Phet'knis could see him in the corner of her vision checking other booths, most empty, and noticed his serpant-like fluidity, his reptillian haste and decisiveness. While his movement was admirably efficient she felt an inner tremor of unease split through her. Oddly enough, it was this discontentment that made Phet'knis want his presence and the desire was inexplicably strong. Her eyes remained unmoving for a while. When her attention returned to the patron, it was clear that the gears in her head were churning. </td></tr></table>
<div align="center"><table><tr><td width=400><div align="center"></div></td></tr><tr><td width=400><div align="justify"><span style='font-size:8pt;line-height:100%'>Musa nodded, she'd never seen a Tmyfrommi, except from the pictures in her biology text book when she was in school, and certainly never as a fetus. There was something about it that made it absolutely disgusting, tasteful and some what pleasant to look at, like it would be something different everytime. <span style='color:red'>"It reminds me of what I drew for my final exam one year,"</span> she said, eyes flicking to the fey. She'd always enjoyed drawing, she almost wished that she'd had this good of a reference then, though she knew that ink and paper wouldn't have been about to captivate as the small creature sealed in its jar could. Her ears swibelled back as she heard another 'dragon approaching, she also noticed that Phet'knis was sitting as she had been before, but something hummed in the air, it was a little uncomfortable, she did not turn to look at who was coming, but raised a brow at the tiny 'dragon. <span style='color:red'>"Should I come back later?"</span></span></div></td></tr></table> </div>
<table width="90%" style="background-color: #4F2F4F; " cellpadding=10><tr><td style="background-color: darkcyan;"> <font face=verdana color=gold style="font-size:15pt; font-family: serif; line-height:6pt; font-weight: strong;"> p h e t ' k n i s . m o i</font></td></tr> <tr><td> <font face=verdana color=white style="font-size:8pt;"> OOC: Sorry for the wait! The stranger's presence seemed imminent; he had glissaded with what seemed like unwavering decision over to the adjacent booth and was now idling there, minding the merchandise half-assedly. Turning once again, Phet'knis narrowed her glistening golden eyes on him in an attempt to fix them on his face. Unfortunately it was shrouded in shadow from the thick folds of his hood. Likewise was the rest of his body although even in the thick concealment of the draping fabrics one could make out the odd, horn-like protrustions occurring along the head, nape, and spine. It wouldn't have been surprising for this creature to have been but another pendragon travelling on all fours, but something in the air suggested otherwise. The hackles on the thill's body lifted. Inside, her mind begged the lurking beast closer. "Should I come back later?" The words struck her ears and caused an immediate lurch of her attention back towards Musa, whom would receive a fleeting and uncharacteristic half-smile. Phet was about to respond back in reassurance when, in the corner of her eye, she saw it. She should've felt its coming first, only the other thill had drawn her attention away. The mystery beast plunged forward with the intent to attack although, bizarrely, for all those present nothing but blurring sable smear was to be witnessed. The attacker was not only veiled in canvas, he also was playing behind a get-up of magicked shadow. Had Phet not felt the creature's tremulous vibes she probably would've ignored the dark smudge in the scenary as a flicker in Fromina like many others would do. Musa should've come back later for when the attacker sprung it was Musa herself who was the target. Phet'knis, inspired by the conflicting desires to draw the being nearer and, simutaneously, repel it away, leapt with the speed and form of a fox from her stool to the table and then onto the other thill. As it went down the stool made a soft 'clop!' on the ground. If Musa came to fall beneath Phet's body then they too would make soft 'clops!' when they hit the dusty ground below. </td></tr></table>
<div align="center"><table><tr><td width=400><div align="center"></div></td></tr><tr><td width=400><div align="justify"><span style='font-size:8pt;line-height:100%'>Musa tried to smile back at the fey, but she was struck with the smell of reptiles, black magic and a far away desert she'd only ever heard of. The scents by themselves were harmless, but all three together she knew, they were an old friend, though not quite as much anymore. She'd been about to warn Phet to stay where she was, but as she opened her mouth Musa was taken to the ground by the small dragon. She threw her bag of needles and inks so it skittered under the desk, getting stabbed was not only something not very high on her to do list, but it would be embarrassing if she were hurt by her own art supplies. The cloaked figure had been aiming at chest height when he had sprung, lying on the ground, Musa was definitely out of his reach, he soared above her and Phet and she looked away, not wanting to watch if the enrapturing pieces might have been knocked or broken. Musa had been about to call out the attacker's name, or who she supposed it was, before she realized that was probably not the smartest ideas as of yet.</span></div></td></tr></table> </div>
<table width="90%" style="background-color: #4F2F4F; " cellpadding=10><tr><td style="background-color: darkcyan;"> <font face=verdana color=gold style="font-size:15pt; font-family: serif; line-height:6pt; font-weight: strong;"> p h e t ' k n i s . m o i</font></td></tr> <tr><td> <font face=verdana color=white style="font-size:8pt;">OOC: Because we cleared up what the Black Market looked like, my subsequent posts might seem off from the first depiction of the market. The illusory character slammed hard into the table; the prized pickled fetus rolled off the table and toppled onto the cobblestone, the cessi merely wobbled and then quickly regained its position. By that time it'd gained a few new sharp quills in its back, adding to its overall peculiarity. Phet'knis would have to thank the other thill on a later date. The contents of Phet's carafe pooled out onto the floor and bled over into the street. No big loss. Phet, still on top of the stranger thill, watched as the cloaked figure extended from its hood its mouth. By then it'd recovered from the crash. Black as night and grotesquely endowed row upon row of teeth, that creature's maw was, lined by a pair of slimy lips. Glancing back at Phet and Musa, the tilghe gave a few light chortles of sheer delight and then snapped its jaws a few times in a clear display of mockery. Then, without any sort of warning, it spun about, took the cessi figure by tongue, and leapt off down the street into an alleyway. Needles and blotches of dark ink decorated the earth around both Phet'knis Moi and Musa. Only now Phet moved away from the other thill's body, unable to hide her exasperation and sheepishness.</td></tr></table>
<div align="center"><table><tr><td width=400><div align="center"></div></td></tr><tr><td width=400><div align="justify"><span style='font-size:8pt;line-height:100%'>Musa watched wide eyed as the creature stole away with the cessi. She shook her head, atra tilghes were something she'd actually seen before, one of her druggie friends had been owed a debt by more than one, she hadn't seen one in close to ten years though. <span style='color:red'>"I thought I'd never see one of those again,"</span> she said, sitting up now that Phet was off of her. She rubbed the back of her head where she'd accidentally knocked back a little too hard into the ground. She slowly got to her knees and began to salvage what she could of her inks and needles, she'd managed not to get stabbed, but most of the needles were useless and a couple of the inks had cracked, oh well, she could get more, they weren't the most expensive thing considering. She caught sight of the jar with the fetus, she couldn't tell if it was broken or not from her angle, she cocked her head, then let it go, she'd pay for it if it was broken, and if it wasn't, she'd buy it, surely she had enough khasi? <span style='color:red'>"Thanks, for getting me out of the way I mean, real sorry I brought that thing here, if I can do something to make it up to you?"</span> she said, trailing off, the chances of the tilghe being from the 'dragon she used to know where slim, but it was a small world, maybe she really had brought it with her.</span></div></td></tr></table> </div>
<table width="90%" cellpadding=10><tr><td style="background-color: darkcyan;"> <font face=verdana color=gold style="font-size:15pt; font-family: serif; line-height:6pt; font-weight: strong;"> p h e t ' k n i s . m o i</font></td></tr> <tr><td> <font style="font-size: 10pt;"> Remarkably, the fey's expression was hardly grim. Although the experience was more than a little embarassing (by now there was a crowd gathering around the scene of the crime, some stunned at what they'd witnessed), Phet'knis felt scantly more than shock. The tilghe had scared her, but in a seductive sort of way. She might've likened the event to... getting oneself pierced. The buildup was tremulous and exciting despite what pain it inflicted. In fact, it was the pain itself that seemed to make the climax all the more climatic. And so the tilghe's brash appearance, his trickery and petty theft, made her all the more attracted. Phet'knis would find that beastly creature again and have him. That was certain. But at the moment she had greater matters to attend to, didn't she? She piqued her ears towards Musa's speaking mouth but frowned when she actually came to comprehend her words. <font color=gold>"I don't think ye' brought it 'ere, stranger. But you've seen one of them things before? I only thought they were myth, them tilghes."</font> She began to rise, dusting herself off along the way. When she got up, she extended a hand down to the other, inviting her up. <font color=gold>"By fronna, what a week! I'll be out of this Black Market b'fore th'days out, mmn."</font> Her eyes were moving with the fire of life when she finally got around to assessing the area. What a mess. <font color=gold>"What are y'gonna do now?"</font> </td></tr></table>
<div align="center"><table><tr><td width=400><div align="center"></div></td></tr><tr><td width=400><div align="justify"><span style='font-size:8pt;line-height:100%'>Musa turned so she wasn't facing the outside of the booth, but the fey, she didn't much like the growing crowd of people, at least this way she didn't have to see so many people, just hear them in the background, almost like white noise. She gratefully took the hand that Phet offered to her, although it must have looked a little silly once she finally stood, she was a few feet taller than the thill. <span style='color:red'>"Yeah, tilghes are real, a girl I used to sleep with had a freaking nest of them following her around, things smell like reptiles, desert, and black magic, which for the record the last is an ungodly, sick-inducing scent,"</span> she said, though towards the end she began to mumble. Her time spent with the thill the tilghes had followed had been pretty decent, but Musa had never cared for the tilghes themselves, they were only pretty to look at until they tried to kill you for the fourth time in as many days. <span style='color:red'>"Well, the Black Market's not all bad, I mean, mythological fauna don't generally come and rob people, unless there's something no one's been telling me,"</span> she said, snickering now that she looked back on it, the affair had been sort of comical, the bit about ruining most of Phet's stall, wasn't, but the fact that it was done by a creature that was believed to be only a story was pretty funny. <span style='color:red'>"Well first thing I'm going to do is help you clean up some, and then second thing I'm going to do after that is invite you for a drink or three,"</span> she said, grinning devilishly, helping clean was the least she could do, it was probably true that the tilghe hadn't been brought here by her, but the fact that she had been in the stall when it happened made her feel just a little bit responsible.</span></div></td></tr></table> </div>
<table width="90%" cellpadding=10><tr><td style="background-color: darkcyan;"> <font face=verdana color=gold style="font-size:15pt; font-family: serif; line-height:6pt; font-weight: strong;"> p h e t ' k n i s . m o i</font></td></tr> <tr><td> <font style="font-size: 10pt;"> Phet'knis was never one for company in numbers of more than three; while most of the crowd had dissipated, some dragons remained still murmuring and peering. They were the typical suspicious Black Market crowd. She took both hands up and waved them before her in a shooing motion. <font color=gold>"Nothan' to see here, move on."</font> To her right she could spy, in the corner of her eye, the swift movement of theft. Immediately Phet shot her glare in the arden's direction. He was attempting to make off with the fetus. <font color=gold>"Drop it, or end up laike ma' artwork.""</font> she hissed contemptuously, her accent now louder than before. While the male didn't seem too threatened by the smaller fey's threat, he also did not challenge her. The Myshemd were not the most trusted of dragons around here. <font color=gold>"I never knew 'em to be real. If I had'na seen one today then I would've thought you were lying. That smell is new to me... never picked it up while in Manik."</font> replied the fey as she made her way over to the fetus necklace to pick it off the floor. The little guy had been jarred by the whole incident, but by the looks of things, was in otherwise fine condition. Nearby him were several of the other's needles. The most of them had had a nice rolly-polly in the sticky dirt of the Black Market streets and probably were not fit for tattoo artistry. Phet'knis cocked a brow and straightened herself from the dirty work with one hand wrapped around a thin steel needle. <font color=gold>"What are these for?"</font> She had wiggled the needle between her touch. Already she'd collected a variety of things from the floor, though had avoided the things that'd been broken beyond repair: her carafe, two containers of black ink, the lamp (although the lampshade seemed okay), and more than one dried head. That meant a number of weeks of hunting and handwork had been lost in the flash-attack. What an experience! <font color=gold>"If you would believe it, it is my first time selling here. I usually don't pay much attention t'khasi."</font> Sidestepping a few more broken bits of glass, 'knis turned around once more to be in the direction of Musa. The stranger had begun to help her pick up the booth's scatted mess. Although a smile wasn't provoked Phet'knis did feel a spark of appreciation. <font color=gold>"You dun' need to help. If anythin', that tilghe was here for me! Me and a quick snack."</font> </td></tr></table>
<div align="center"><table><tr><td width=400><div align="center"></div></td></tr><tr><td width=400><div align="justify"><span style='font-size:8pt;line-height:100%'>Musa smiled when Phet began to try and drive off the slowly dissipating crowd. It was comical, that the child-sized fey with an accent that would have made her giggle under other circumstances, actually seemed to have the smallest bit of clout over the much larger 'dragons, namely the one that had tried for one of her wares. She just nodded at the comment of the smell, if you knew it, chances are it wasn't that hard to track, even with next to no skill in using her nose to track anything Musa was pretty sure she could follow that smell to the end of the planet if she really wanted to. But it all swung on knowing what you were looking for she supposed. Her smile broadened as the thill turned to her and asked what the needles were for, the whole affair with the tilghe and taxidermy left Musa's mind grappling, she didn't know much about either so she wasn't sure how to help, the tattooing needles she knew inside and out. <span style='color:red'>"They're for tattoos, it's a neat way to pick up money,"</span> she said with a good-natured voice, not belittling what Phet did as art, but hinting at the fact that Musa herself probably had no chance in hell of being decent at it, it wasn't easy enough of a clean up for her. She gingerly picked up a dried head, not so much disgusted by it, as unsure of what to do with it, one side was crushed inwards, so she didn't have to worry about breaking it, but the though that it had been attached to something's body at one point made her cautious. She set it down on a shelf it might have come off of, as carefully as she had picked it up. <span style='color:red'>"Don't worry about it, I don't mind helping you out,"</span> she said, still grinning. She could believe that this was the first time that Phet had set up in the Black Market, the lack of magically enhanced securities and the openness of her valuable art almost screamed 'easy target', but she let it be.</span></div></td></tr></table> </div>
<table width="90%" cellpadding=10><tr><td style="background-color: darkcyan;"> <font face=verdana color=gold style="font-size:15pt; font-family: serif; line-height:6pt; font-weight: strong;"> p h e t ' k n i s . m o i</font></td></tr> <tr><td> <font style="font-size: 12px;line-height:16px;"> It was fully true that Phet'knis was in need of some help. Her understanding of what was 'right' and what was 'wrong' was horribly incomplete, thus leaving the poor thill coming at ends with society and its clever wit. While she prided herself for being the boldest of her family to set paw on urban land, that pride helped her none in the reality of it. In fact, it probably made her too headstrong! Looking over the remainder of the mess that was strewn on the ground, the fey relented to a mental sigh before carrying on picking up the last of Musa's inks. Some of them had been cracked and the ink flowed freely, like the waters of a stream, over her padded palms and wrists. In the bloated sun's rays the colours were strong even over Phet's sable coat. She was just a child finger-painting. She was just a child playing with the big boys, trying to impress them with her frightening statues. The weariness of the experience had yet to overlap her presently spirited expression, although inside she was beginning to feel the inklings of fatigue. No! There was still so much to do. Musa spoke, and Phet'knis returned to her belatedly -- evidently there was other things on the thill's mind. <font color=gold>"Tattoos? I 'ave those, but tha seers they used Fron'ma to put those marks there. Oh, here, I'll take tha'. Poor lil' thing,"</font> she sympathised as she held the shrunken head in her grasp. She stroked the peculiar thing with a thumb with what almost seemed like... tenderness. Hardly the sort of trait one would befit to a taxidermist. <font color=gold>"Ah like the idea of putting arts on the body with needluhs and ink. That must mean that you're good at drawin'?"</font> Her brows perked up with her question to show her undoubtable interest. She placed her precious collection of items on the table, including the dripping inks of Musa's, and then went behind the booth to retrieve her basket-pack. She wiped her soiled touch on the sides of her thighs before dwelving into the thing. </td></tr></table>
