Unfamiliar Ceiling [For Amelia Ronsam]

[u_can_have_it_4_a_song]

Dappled sunlight and soft birdsong await when Amelia wakes. The room in which she does so features whitewashed plaster walls surmounted by smoke-darkened beams, standing over a well-fitted hardwood floor covered by woven-rag rugs. A desk sits by the window, paired with a chair in which sits a well-dressed man, currently occupied in reading a slim book. Next to the door are a mirror and a table with a pitcher and basin; opposite them stands a wardrobe.

Amelia herself lies atop the blankets of a single bed that smells faintly of lavender, having been neither undressed nor disarmed. The wall is to one side of her, a nightstand to the other. If she cared to assume that a trunk stood at the foot of the bed, she would not be mistaken.

Comments

[u_can_have_it_4_a_song]

He was coming to that--and makes note, also, that she seems not to intend to pick up extras to sell and supplement her income, as so many in her line of work might.

"I have, if chalk you wish to use." Again, a hand dips into the mysterious realm behind his lapel, this time emerging with a small paper box holding four gently-used pieces of chalk. At some previous point, they had been two pieces.

"There is a dog, but not an especially vigilant one--more the ornamental variety. And while he uses very good locks on several of his doors, I do not know of any traps. He lives alone, but has frequent guests overnight."

"What might you have asked for such a task, in your home world?"

[rogueinladysclothing]

She would take something - if it were of interest to her. Wine, however, is not one of her things. Perhaps sometime in the future she might take something else, but for now, she'll keep her hands to the task she's been set.

She takes the box of chalk and stores it in a pouch carefully. "Dog, intricate locks, possible guest." All of this is nothing to be afraid of, though she knows she'll be more on alert than she has ever been when on a job back home. Best to be extra careful when in a place so unfamiliar as the Nexus.

"To be honest, I've never been asked to do a task quite like this in the past." She crosses her arms in front of her chest, tapping her fingers on her upper arms as she thinks. "But something requiring me to get in and out without being noticed, with the owner home, two possible hindrances, and an intricate lock? 5 gold pieces." She didn't go easy on her clients at home and she certainly wasn't going to go easy on Schön. "Let's call the standard fee for a job requiring me to get in and out 2 gold pieces and I'll add on based on all the extra factors involved in the job." It seemed fair enough to her and insured she would get paid enough for her work.

[u_can_have_it_4_a_song]

He considers that offer for a moment, then nods. "Very well. Two, and extras as needed. What would you say is the weight of one of your gold pieces?"

Of course he expects her to know. What thief worth their salt hasn't done a little coin-shaving now and again to work up enough spare gold for another coin?

[rogueinladysclothing]

Of course she knows that. Not because she's cheated anyone with her coins, but because she never wanted to be cheated. When every bit of coin you have is going toward one, large, unknown price goal, you weigh them and make sure no one is screwing with you.

"0.41 ounces." She hopes he'll know the unit of weight. It seems like one of those things he would just know. "I hope that won't be a problem for a man such as yourself."

[u_can_have_it_4_a_song]

He nods. The Nexus' translation field might be helping, there. "Not at all. I handle all manner of currencies." He seems to pluck two bright golden coins from thin air, though it could easily be some clever sleight-of-hand. One of the coins has a square hole in its center, the other is stamped in the image of some old man. He places both on top of the notebook.

[rogueinladysclothing]

The coins are strange, but she gingerly takes them into her hand, one at a time, to do an initial judgement of the weight. She then produces a small scale and a gold coin from two different pouches on her person. After setting up the scale, she places her gold coin on one side and then tests each of the gold coins Schön provided on the other. The weights are even when she tests them. Satisfied, Amelia returns her coin and scale to her pouches and then places her hand over the notebook. Her eyes slowly make their way up Schön's thin frame to meet his own.

"Shall I be going, then?"

[u_can_have_it_4_a_song]

"In your own good time," he purrs, watching the weighing of the coins with only a fraction of his attention (a deliberate sign that he knows the coming result). "I never rush an artist."

[rogueinladysclothing]

There's a roll of her eyes happening at that. She's a rogue, Schön, nothing more. "And where should I find you when the job is done? And what kind of proof do you desire to prove that the job is complete?"

[u_can_have_it_4_a_song]

Flattery costs little, and can gain much.

"There are directions from the forum to my office in your book. And for proof, I shall take your word." The behavior of her target would swiftly bear it out, one way or the other. Or perhaps he has some other way to check.

[rogueinladysclothing]

Perhaps. But who is he hoping to flatter here? So many thing to learn about your new protégé, Schön.

She doesn't like him simply taking her word for it, but that's mostly because she knows he has to have some other check in place. This magic thing is still not high on her list of things she likes. The notebook and coins are quickly swept up as she stands. "I shall see you again soon, then."

Her head and shoulders incline slightly - a partial bow, perhaps? - before she grabs her cloak and throws it on over her shoulders with a flourish. Notebook in hand, she disappeared through the door leading out to the entryway. Should Schön follow close enough behind her to watch her exit the inn, he will be sorely disappointed. By the time he reaches the door leading out of the dining hall, the rogue known as Amelia Ronsam has vanished.

[u_can_have_it_4_a_song]

An operative with a perhaps-deservedly high opinion of her own skills, of course. It's so much simpler to show such people a little respect than to have them resentful and plotting over the slight of its absence.

"I look forward to it," he murmurs, inclining his head in answer to her bow. He finishes his coffee and then follows at a more leisurely pace; he has been taxing himself considerably, these past few days, and the retreat of his office will be a welcome one.

Have a story post.

[rogueinladysclothing]

While the previous day had been one of the worst Amelia had experienced in a long time, today appears to be much better for her. No fainting, no emotional outbursts, and a much better understanding of what's going on around her. Add to that a job that is well within her skill set, and she could almost skip with joy.

Taking into consideration everything Schön told her about the job, she stops at a shop selling dried treats and and picks up a few varieties of meats and fruits for later use. She then quickly makes her way to the Forum and then on to her target's house. The home is of average size, compared to the rest on the row, and nestled squarely in the center of the block it resides on. It also has many small windows, which is all the better for the rogue's purposes. A closer inspection reveals two bedrooms, both located on the upper floor of the house. The dog pays little notice to the woman as she darts around the house, peering into windows and testing doors as she goes. It's a good sign, but one she reminds herself not to take for granted.

As she lays in wait, the sun begins to lower in the sky. She keeps a wary eye on the house as she watches from the roof of a house across the street. When the sun is about to set, the owner of the house - a relatively small, and unassuming man - arrives home, his arms laden with goods purchased in the Commercial District. Amelia watches closely as rooms in the house begin lighting up one by one. Two hours after the man arrived, a woman, who could not possibly be much older than Amelia, arrived at the door. Dressed in what one could only assume is a "date night" dress and with her auburn hair pinned up with small silvery objects, she enters after a loud and enthusiastic welcome from the home owner. Amelia watches their shadows weave throughout the house as the evening progresses - first to the kitchen, then the dining room, and then, finally, the bedroom.

When all the lights in the house have been out for an hour, she creeps up to the backdoor of the house. With a wary ear open for signs of movement around her, she pulls out her lockpicks and gently inserts them into the lock. Schön wasn't kidding when he said the lock was intricate. It takes her three unsuccessful attempts to figure out the pattern before she is able to open it. Once inside, she makes straight for the stairs, her hand in a pouch the entire time. The dog opens an eye to look at her as she passes, but quickly forgets her intrusion when she drops a handful of dried meat. The dog sated, she rushes up the stairs, her feet barely touching any of them as she does.

The soft sounds of snoring draw her attention to one of the two bedrooms. Keeping her cloak about her, she peers through the small gap between the door and the frame to get a better look. The man and the woman are both fast asleep. Exhaling slowly, she slips through the door, taking care to place it back where she found it before surveying the room. The walls are covered with art, leaving no space for her to leave the drawing. That, however, is no problem for Amelia. Stepping up to one of the smaller paintings, she carefully checks around for possible trip wires or alarm bells - and finds a trip wire that runs between all of the paintings on the wall. Cursing internally, she turns and makes a face at the sleeping man before walking back to the door and shutting it carefully. The chalk makes a bit more noise on the door than she would like, but the drawing takes less than a minute to sketch out. After one last check of her drawing, she withdraws from the room, closing the door behind her completely. She flies down the stares, leaving another treat for the dog, then out the back door, which she trips to lock behind her.

The job now done, Amelia makes her way back to the Forum through the shadows. Although the edge of the Forum she passes through on her way to Schön's office remains sunny, the streets are mostly empty. As she walks, she pulls the dried fruit from her pouch for a snack. The way to his office is shorter than she expected and she finds herself arriving in what feels like a matter of minutes, though she realizes much more time could have passed. It's hard to tell, seeing as she still doesn't have her bearings in the Nexus yet.

Rather than going straight in, however, she knocks and waits for Schön to open it. It gives her time to finish off the last of her dried peaches.

Quite the post, indeed. (Sorry about the delay.)

[u_can_have_it_4_a_song]

After a few moments, Schön opens the door, brows rising momentarily in recognition before he moves aside to raise his arm in an invitation. "Please, won't you come in?"

The room within is a spacious office, made cozy by the bright Oriental rugs covering most of the hardwood floor. The desk, opposite the door, is a monolith of mahogany, inlaid with accents of rosewood and teak, carved with reliefs of twining roots and branches, of fanciful creatures, and of faces peeking from among the leaves. The chairs before and behind the desk are upholstered in silk and buttery-soft leather, the one behind the desk tall and evocative of a throne.

The walls, papered in a deep Chinese red pinstriped with navy, are densely clustered with art in a dizzying array of styles; most are paintings, but a few cameos hang as well, and a violin enjoys pride of place over the mantle. Shelves behind the desk are similarly crowded with books and odd little knickknacks, the former rarely comprising the sort of orderly matched sets that tend to fill shelves behind desks in offices. To one side of the door stand a coat rack and a sideboard loaded with bottles of exotic libations, while to the opposite side stands a small table bearing several indistinct articles over which has been draped a gossamer shroud. Against one side wall sits an overstuffed couch, and in the opposite wall is set a fireplace, though it has clearly never seen a fire, and the single log that sits in the grate is a piece of elaborate scrimshaw, evocative of flames.

When he closes the door behind Ameila, the sounds of the outside world fall away to a serene hush. The quiet makes the low, melodious tones of his voice more noticeable. "Have a seat."

(No worries. I wrote the above post over 5 hours during my first home brewing experience.)

[rogueinladysclothing]

Many of the things inside of the office are unfamiliar and strange to Amelia. Still, she can tell he's a man of impeccable taste and the intricate beauty and nature of things Schön owns is not lost on her. She steps in and over to the chair in front of the desk without comment. The chair is much softer than she expected and gets a small raise of her eyebrows. Other than that, though, she gives no indication of her take on the room.

When he sits, she gives him a nod and hands back the drawing she paper with the drawing on it that he gave to her before she left for the job. "It's done."

(How did it go?)

[u_can_have_it_4_a_song]

Schön takes the paper as he circles around behind his desk, settling into his seat and opening a drawer. "You have my thanks. Were there any complications?"

(Stressful, but hopefully good. I'll find out in a month-ish!)

[rogueinladysclothing]

"No." The dog she knew about and the tripwire was a minor nuisance that barely slowed her down. It's not worth mentioning, in her mind at least.

"I take it you'll find out soon enough if my work was seen?"

(Best of luck!)

[u_can_have_it_4_a_song]

"Indeed, I shall," he purrs. He's quite looking forward to the result. "And you found the work satisfactory?"

(Thanks!)

[rogueinladysclothing]

"It was a nice stretch of my legs." That's not really an answer and they both know it. Still, she's not going to offer up anything else unless asked.

"I don't suppose you have anything else for me right away?" No time to rest. If she can keep moving, maybe the time until she gets home will come sooner.

[u_can_have_it_4_a_song]

"Something simpler, perhaps. I anticipate needing substantial storage space in the near future, a warehouse or the like, and I should like to keep from attaching my name if at all possible. Finding and securing an appropriate venue may not be much of a challenge, but it passes the time, hmm?"

[rogueinladysclothing]

Simple is often boring, but if it fills the time in a place like this, she'll take it. "What exactly are you looking for in this warehouse? Size? Location preferences? Features inside? What would you need stored inside of it?" All important questions.

[u_can_have_it_4_a_song]

The simplicity is deceptive; in order to succeed, she'll have to acclimate herself to the strange and varied peoples of the Nexus, and their wide array of ways, which is the first step in larger, worlds-hopping assignments. And he's trusting her with something very important in this task, although he isn't advertising the fact.

"I can't yet be certain, but let us be optimistic and say very large. It will need sturdy shelving, good light, excellent climate control--no dampness, anywhere. If all goes well, it shall be housing the legacy of the Atlataban Empire."

[rogueinladysclothing]

She's a quick study, and if she wants to stay on her feet rather than off them, she'll adapt quickly, too. The ability to hit the ground running is something she prides herself on.

"All of those seem like easy enough needs to cover, but... what is the Atlataban Empire?" Some part of her tells her that asking questions can be dangerous, but she always one with a curious nature. Besides, she's only recently arrived in the Nexus - what harm could there be asking about things she didn't know of or understand?

[u_can_have_it_4_a_song]

That question, at least, hasn't done any harm. Her success and his anticipation are making Schön a little generous. "In their world, they were an empire bounded only by oceans, at the very peak of their culture, arts, philosophy, when they quite abruptly crumbled."

[rogueinladysclothing]

While not a history buff, Amelia's done enough reading in her world to know a thing or two about the rise and fall of powers in a world. "Empires don't crumble without reason. So what's the story? And why is it so important to hold onto things from their empire?"

[u_can_have_it_4_a_song]

"Their last great priest-king believed that the empire stood at its zenith--and that there was, consequently, nowhere to go but down. So he determined that his tomb would enshrine all that they had become, all their greatest works. He bankrupted his empire to ensure that these things and ideas would be saved... and I will be the third person to set eyes on them in over twelve hundred years. That is a precious opportunity."