OOC: Go nuts. Oh, and Phylus: What I meant by Telekinesis, is by an extraordinary power of the mind. I had no other idea of how to put it. Zidan readjusted himself in his seat, feeling oddly uncomfortable, sensing an air of some tension in the room as well as the discomfort of another sitting close to him. He began regretting on choosing this place to eat at. Water was finally placed at the table. Under the situation of his dry mouth, he would have made a mad and desperate grab for all three glasses and chugged them all down at once, but since he was asked prior to not to anything stupid, he simply grabbed one glass and took a big sip of it. Tap water never tasted so sweet and relieving to him in all his life, seeing as it was the only time in his life he nearly died of thirst. The young niotie schoolgirl asked for a forked, and by her request, a pile of napkins stirred close to Phet'knis. A fork wiggled and writhed it's way out quickly and Phet' simply grabbed it and handed it over. Zidan was intrigued by this little act, something he had rarely ever seen but as a street side show. The niotie nodded in thanks. "I do believe I have not properly introduced myself..." She said in her solid-faced voice. "My name is Pommiera." (Side note: For those that don't know French, Pommiera mean Apple Tree, and only has an a added to it to make it sound more feminine. I chose the name because apples symbolize knowledge, which this niotie clearly shows)
<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 face=verdana style="font-size:12px; line-height:16px;"> OOC: Hehe, I adore it, Mac. Pommiera. It has a nice flow. And, Soul, feel free to jump in at any time. I'm just going to post to keep things going. Short post, I wanted to get Zi's intro out of the way. -- <font color=gold>"Yes, I pra'fer to stay home... Onleh, I heard that I might be able t'make a good killin' sellin' ma' art in the Black Market and all."</font> With this said the thill nodded modestly, for it was only the truth that she was telling. It seemed like an earnest enough ambition, to sell one's arts. Thinking this, the fey' extended one hand to gently stroke her touch over the woven basket that was close to her side. Despite her sombre complexion, her features were rather expressive and, at the moment, almost tender. When she canted her eyes back up to the scene she found Pommiera's studious eyes were resting on her. And then, an introduction was made. Phet'knis mirrored it with a slight dip of her maw. <font color=gold>"My name's Phet'knis,"</font> she offered with a light smile, one that was nothing more than customary in terms of manners... something that she seldom exhibited much of. In any case, she didn't consider herself needing an extensive introduction. She figured that, for the most part, the young niotie already knew her name and probably other fragments of discomforting information. But, like the warning came to Zidan, it came to Phet to: don't be stupid. </td></tr></table>
OOC: I really should make Pommiera one of my characters. I feel she could have something to do with Takula politics, if there is such a thing. Pommiera toke a small bit from her meal and a sip of her water. "Artwork, you say? Such a thing tends to make a nice profit, always has." She said casually. She turned her head to look Zidan in the eyes. "And you are a traveler, writing his journey in hopes that he would be remembered, far after his body fades to dust." Zidan shuffled in his chair uncomfortably. "Um, can you please stop doing that? The mind reading." He said meekly. His face showed concern, concern of that she may already know all about him and his history. His arm twitched as he heard a rather large Takula get up from his chair. She bowed her head ever so slowly. "I apologize. Some things come to habit at my age. I will let you speak of your backgrounds, rather than let my tongue unfurl them." She took another sip of her water. "And on that, You did not speak your name, Yki." Zidan turned his had to spot the Takula sitting back down to finish his meal. He felt more at ease with the thought that he wasn't going to die... Well, not yet at least. "My name is Zidan." He spoke. Pommiera stopped her fork before it reached her mouth. She smiled gently and ever so faintly. "Zidan, your name befits you." OOC: I guess I should say this now, Zidan is a word of another language. I'm keeping the meaning to myself.
<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 face=verdana style="font-size:12px; line-height:16px;"> OOC: Sorry about the forever wait. I hope your muse isn't dying. s: -- She could not hide her expression of likewise disquietude at the niotie's mind reading abilities. Her sable lips had crumpled at the corners. Soon enough Pommiera would unearth a discarded bit of a memory that even Phet'knis herself had no recollection of. Like picking through the garbage, she was. So, in turn, the thill moved to investigate the investigator. <font color=gold>"How long have you had your ability, if I may ask?"</font> she inquired lightly, and going for her own water thereafter. When she laid a remark about Zidan's name, Phet'knis could not help but lift a brow in confusion. While she didn't feel comfortable prying further for details, she certainly did not feel satisfied being left out on the secret. Her focus fell down on her food for a short time as she snuffed her curiosity but the meal was beginning to lose its appeal rapidly. There was still at least half of the mystery meat was still laden on her plate. Just then, amidst the background song of crowd shuffling and gentle speech came a telephone ring. The notes abruptly ended with the arrival of the server, the same scarlet Takula that'd greeted Phet'knis and Zidan before all the shenanigans began. He began talking in choppy Takula, occasionally giving Pomm' a glance. </td></tr></table>
OOC: Nah, I haven't really been on. Camping every weekend and feeling ill every week. Pommiera took a bite from her dish. "I've had it for about a decade. It's a skill that everyone has, it's just that there is many ways to make it work." She said in her mellow manner. "My way was through chance, much like how I came to have power over the gentlemen in this room." Zidan said nothing, but took another bite of the over-salted meat and a drink of the warm tap water. I'd like to know how... He thought to himself. The server bent over and whispered something into her ear. She nodded. "I'm sorry to cut our meeting short, but I have manners to attend to." She got up to her feet, and with a small mob out of the brutes, exited the building. A small clanging sound hit the table. Zidan looked down in mild amusement to see enough coins to pay for her meal. "That was the most uncomfortable meal I've ever eaten..." He spoke slowly with pauses in between each word.
<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 face=verdana style="font-size:12px; line-height:16px;"> OOC: -jealous- -- She watched as the younger niotie strode out from the building, not believing her arrival, just as well as her departure, to hold any bit of truth to it. Pommiera seemed like a cool gust of wind on a sticky tria day, one that came once just to tease. She attempted to blink to dream out of her eyes. <font color=gold>"I ratha' enjoyed it,"</font> she responded, her monotone voice ambling out with a hint of sarcasm. In honest, the whole experience had left her with an absurd amount of heebie-jeebies. Sending a few heartless pokes to the meal before her, she tipped her head ever so slightly to one side and gave her peculiar company, friend she might even say, a tired look. <font color=gold>"Ah'm really itchin' for that fresh air ou'side. You nearleh through?"</font> Mind you, her voice held no sort of urgency. No need to unnecessarily pressure him to speed. Still, she didn't wait for his response to begin accumulating her belongings -- just the woven pack, really. After licking her digits clean, she dipped a hand into the pack and retrieved a ratty tin case that shook with the noise of money. But when she opened it, one could see the sounds were highly deceiving. Phet'knis had a few coins, enough to cover a day's spending and then some, but the majority of the jingling had been made from tiny fragments of beach glass. </td></tr></table>
The meeting with Pommiera felt too odd to Zid', possibly the fact that, if she did read his mind, he would not have to say or really think anything at all. At least she was gone now, but for how long was only a matter of fate. The strong, noble presence laid a mental scar on him. Regarding Phet'knis, he looked to his meal. The salty taste continued to burn his tongue and made him grimace. He took the glass a quickly chugged down the rest of its contents. "I'm done here." He said, adding on a tone of 'let's get the hell out of here'. While Phet'knis shuffled through her case of coins, Zidan felt her should also check his own, as she seemed to be short, both literally and metaphorically. He reached into his pouch and grabbed at the some he had. "If you don't have enough, I have a bit." He offered.
<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 face=verdana style="font-size:12px; line-height:16px;"> Readily rejecting the offer, Phet' shook her head calmly and carefully picked apart the needed coin. Her whole air seemed was utterly nonchalant. It could've been interpreted as the suppressing of her distress, but in honest, it was merely a disinterest in money. The economic system was something she'd barely made use of. <font color=gold>"It was ma' werd. Sorreh, I know it wasn'a the sort of 'lunch' you'd've imagined."</font> Setting the money on the table, between the two half-eaten plates and empty glasses, Phet'knis then set away her tin box and made a few paces from the table. Behind her several Takula stared on at her back -- it was a myriad of expressions. Some of them looked outright disgusted, and delighted at her departure while others peered on in interest. Even more glared at Zidan. It couldn't be helped. </td></tr></table>
Zidan put the money back into his pouch for safe keeping, seeing as Phet' was sticking by her word. He chuckled a bit as a reaction to what she said. "Yeah, saying weird would be a major understatement. Never had a meal that tense since I left home!" The two departed from the establishment with heavy stares on their backs. The sense of being watched felt like knives to Zidan. He tolerated the feeling to a level where it was only bearable. He'd got the feeling quite a lot since he left his frozen home, particularly in towns or cities. It was amazing those knives had yet to draw blood or kill him. When they were in the middle of the street, Zidan noticed that the street was now a bit more busy than when he first walked it. Just pendragons minding their own dark business, things he should very well stay out of the way of. A thought came to him; he had yet to ask what Phet'knis did for a living. It thought nagged at him for only an instant before it slipped off his tongue. "Hey, Phet'knis. I'm just curious but, what do you do for a living?" The answer could have been anything dark or gruesome, why else would she be in a black market?
<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 face=verdana style="font-size:12px; line-height:16px;">The woven pack slid across her back evenly, smoothly, with the grace of practice and confidence. Oddly enough, this sort of dexterity faded when they were back onto the streets. For all her sure-footing in the sticky swamps, Phet'knis was painfully awkward in the swimming fish sea of crowds. Her slight displeasure made itself known on the dark landscape of her face, but with the sun beating hard, it looked like she was just squinting, scowl-faced, from the light. She didn't trip, but her steps certainly lacked the same sureness that they'd held earlier. Zidan had been momentarily forgotten about as he'd fallen behind Phet'knis as they wove past a thick bulge of people. Ughhhh. She might've continued to have lost thought about him had it not been for his question. Suddenly he was beside her again, all white and stark like the snow, a blazing contrast against the shady characters that surrounded them both... shady, both literally and not-so-literally. Suddenly, she appreciated his company all that much more. <font color=gold>"Zidan, if I told you, I'd 'ave to keel you."</font> Her visage was all so serious all so quickly. Then, the faintest inkling of a grin shed light to her jestering ways. <font color=gold>"But we are in the Black Ma'ket, afta'all... would you really like t'know, mm?"</font> </td></tr></table>
After nearly losing Phet'knis in the crowd, Zidan had caught up with her. His steps stronger and more sure than that of his new friend's. He did have to do a little weaving about to avoid some brutish-looking 'dragons, but kept up. Zidan was never really one with crowds, he enjoyed the clouds and avoiding conflict. He never had to deal with such problems at all in his frozen home. He was used to the occasional curious stare, but when it felt lie those stares carried some dark intent, it troubled him on the inside to a minimal level. He caught Phet's reply to his question and was taken aback only a little. He expect a sort of answer like it. Sometimes chances have to be taken. "I told you about myself, it's your turn now." He thought it over a little in his head before he blurted a little add-on his his sentence. "But you don't have to tell me right now."
<table width="90%" cellpadding=10><tr><td> <font face=verdana style="font-size:12px; line-height:16px;"> A flood of noises came, although it was by no means abrupt. The battery of sound that spouted from the foodstuffs district had long since began to infiltrate the crowd's banter and bark, playing rowdy notes as undertones a multitude of conversations. But in the thick of it, the chorus of the area became the loudest. The choir of voices hurling bargains, assaults, and threats to bypassers consumed the ear. She watched as the street names changed with attentive eyes, although some of the streets no longer bore the benefit of even having a name... likely, someone had thought of peddling a street sign. Only in the Black Market. In any case, the empty streets didn't help her cause any. She sought to find the site of her future booth. <font color=gold>"Yabariss,"</font> she murmured beneath the heat of her exhale. It was the name of the street. Her street. Because of her faultless focus, she'd failed to really catch onto where the duo had headed. Fortune had it they were in the centre of animal entrails, eyes, and bits no one dared to pry apart and sell. It was a circus of parts and pieces. Fresh, too. some hung like Christmas from the rickety ceilings of the vendor's stalls. No such stench of rotting flesh dared contaminate the sanctified air. Nearby, the price of a narg's head was being bickered about. Atop of pink meat-paper it sat. Earth had left the beast's eyes, eyes that were still open and in their sockets. They saw nothing but, instead, reflected all that moved before them, distant and gaping as a canyon. Phet'knis took notice of the bodiless head and shifted a finger in its direction. Her pace had by then slowed to a stop. <font color=gold>"See that? Is'like ma... ma 'job'."</font> No smile or grin, just real and serious. <font color=gold>"Ah don't do et for money, realleh... Not much use'a'that where a'm from."</font> She was getting sloppy, she thought to herself. Mustn't give too much away, now, could we? She swept her attention away from the sanguine mess and gave the other a look that said they should carry on. Hopefully the Yki was soft in the stomach and would dare not pose any more questions, let alone want to stay in the area any more either. All sorts of 'what do you do' questions would be forgotten that way. </td></tr></table>
A very rank smell intruded Zidan's nose, while the salty meat tried to make an escape. He could feel his stomach churn and buckle within him. To avoid losing his lunch, more the salt really, he gulped it back down and held his breath to avoid taking in more of the scent of decay. Amazingly, under normal circumstances, he would have already lost it a long time ago. When Phet'knis pointed out her profession, he thought she was joking for a moment, but after letting the seriousness of her voice set in, he thought otherwise. Best I stay away from those questions then... He said to himself. "Alright then..." He mumbled for a reply.
<table width="90%" cellpadding=10><tr><td> <font face=verdana style="font-size:12px; line-height:16px;"> OOC: been contemplating where to take this thread, but i'm almost thinking... well, would you like to close it? summarize the rest? </td></tr></table>
OOC: Yeah... I'm not sure where on earth this would go at all. I'm lost for creativity in a massive block. We could just simply summarize it and save me from insanity as to how it would end, much like a cliffhanging movie with a sequel the gets canceled. Perhaps Phet'knis and Zidan meet again someday, or Zidan finally publishes his book, something like that. Something that concludes their meeting.
<table width="90%" cellpadding=10><tr><td> <font face=verdana style="font-size:12px; line-height:16px;"> OOC: i had the idea you might be feeling a little bit of a block. i'm a little at loss where to go too... i've just been too busy to create ideas. anyway, so. they can part ways to sleep then meet in the morning so that zidan can help phet set up her booth, as he promised. then they split? we can poke out another thread someday. </td></tr></table>
OOC: Guess so... I'm going a bit stir crazy from a lack of things to say. I don't like sounding repetitive.
<table width="90%" cellpadding=10><tr><td> <font face=verdana style="font-size:12px; line-height:16px;"> OOC: that's okay. anyway, so if we're satisfied with the results, would you like to close the thread so it'll go into archives? </td></tr></table>
<table width="90%" cellpadding=10><tr><td> <font face=verdana style="font-size:12px; line-height:16px;"> OOC: ohno, dear! i didn't assume that, but i just felt maybe you were getting tired of the thread. if you want to keep going, let me know! don't close if is against your will. Zidan and Phet'knis bonding is great. </td></tr></table>
