If I Pay Thee Not In Gold

[Saryk]

The idea for this RP originated ages ago from one of these role-playing contests we were having. The idea, mind you- this was majorly edited, the plot’s all new and all mine.

I’ve had this up and running a while ago already, so I do have permission, but unfortunately the only person I remember being on my team back then is Skarx- if one of you other awesome people sees this and wants to be credited just write me, please!

So, on with the fun!

 

Background

“The status which women reached during the present era was not achieved due to the kindness of men or due to natural progress. It was rather achieved through a long struggle and sacrifice on woman's part and only when society needed her contribution and work, more especially; during the two world wars.”

Dr. Jamal A. Badawin

 

In the past millennia, male superiority seemed to be a law of nature. As far as one can track back with current means, hardly any society pursued equal rights and the number of those depending on female rule is negligible. Even in societies like the Mosuo that are famous for their matriarchies, it is mostly only the social life that lies in the hand of the woman while politics are handled by males. The chimerical tribes of Amazons, the Sarmantians, the Hittites, a hand full of Amerindian and North African tribes, the peaceful Minoan civilization of Crete – those are few exceptions, many not even scientifically proven and none of them still existent today.

 

During nearly all of recorded history, it is certain that men have decided on the fate of the world without much interference on part of the women. In the knowledge of their own inferiority, females had to accept the discrimination. Most the religions that developed afterwards idolized the male as pure while the woman was, if not even seen as execrable, still of minor value. Even Hinduism, one of the religions that gave females comparatively big rights, aimed to keep a woman’s mind, speech and body in subjection. In ancient Athens a woman was always minors and subject to a male, such as their father, brother or other male kin and obliged to submit to the wishes of her parents before being handed over their husbands by a marriage which did not demand the woman’s consent. Under Roman Law, a woman was considered a ward to her husband, a person incapable of knowing or acting according to her own free will and strongly limited in her actions. Even in the late Middle Ages, marriage resulted in the husband taking over all the property of his bride.

 

With hardly any chance to gain a proper education or influence, it did not even occur to most women that they might be equal to men. It was assumed that patriarchy was a natural, god-given order that had to exist. Only in the eighteenth century, when missionaries found matrilineality in native North American peoples, this perception was challenged and the question of woman’s rights became central to political debates especially in France and Britain. During the three following centuries, women managed to eke out a better adaption of their rights to men’s– yet this was by for not when it stopped.

 

When the First World War broke out in 1914 the women who have been left behind in countries now nearly free from men, saw that they were, to the contrary of what they have been told, capable of taking care of themselves. While most men had been drafted to fight for their countries, it was the job of the ones left behind to keep the work routine going as much as possible. For the first time in recorded history, the biggest part of the women in the countries participating in the war were not restrained to doing the chores, taking care of the children or guarding the house but were doing the work their husbands used to do.

 

Some of the more venturous women even came to the conclusion that this terrible war that cost so many lives could have been avoided if it were not for male ego. Yet this minority was insignificant to the rest of the female population who were still thinking in the terms of what they had been taught and experienced all their lives; that they were not suitable for leadership. Only after they had to endure the atrocities committed within the Second World War, this conviction finally perished in most of them. Twice in one generation they had been forced to endure the atrocities of wars that had exceeded anything formerly known on cruelty. Twice they had lost everything they had, in many cases including husbands, children and other beloved ones. And twice it had been men who had inflicted the same fate on them. They, the women, who had not been armed, who not been taught how to fight or even how to defend themselves properly and who still had to endure various atrocities of invading hostile soldiers, maybe even more sanguinary ones than their brothers – their fate had been decided for them by men as if they were little children unable to take care of themselves.

 

When the men – many of them dead, others heavily wounded – returned, their wives had finally decided that they had endured enough already. After the male form of government had brought them so many cruelties and hardly any advantages, they were not consent with having to bear it any longer. Only few women doubted a third war in a very short period of time – another war for no more than mere male conceitedness, as they thought. As chimerical as it may sound, the female population in nearly all of Europe, Russia and large parts of North America have made a treaty to end all wars at one stroke – by giving politics into the hands of people who would avoid any violence, if only to protect the lives of children they had given birth to, looked after and watched growing up for years while their husbands were at work.

 

With most of the men dead, mutilated, wounded, simply fed up with fighting or in some cases even siding with the women, the following shift of power was one of the most peaceful and nonviolent ones in history. The boys who were still young enough to be influenced were taught of their own inferiority as if had been done with women for the past millenniums. It is even said that some the women despite their claim that their only goal was peace and the ability to decide their fates for themselves, secretly enjoyed this as an act of revenge after all men had done to them.

 

Four generations later, around 2050, matriarchy was accepted as a matter of course, just as patriarchy had been in the Middle Ages. As promised, none of these countries had been involved in a war and they still work together very strongly yet have isolated themselves from countries with more conservative forms of governments.

 

Within the generations women had grown fond of their new power and as time passed they stroke the same way they had condemned their brothers some generations ago. In this new way living, the only usage for men was had physical or unpleasant work. They were forbidden to even enter the government buildings, while arts, public services and scientific research was strictly in female hands.

 

The idea of marriage has been abandoned within the decades – jealousy was a feeling that did not occur in these matriarchal countries. To become pregnant or to simply have some fun, a woman asked the man she wanted out and if he accepted they’d spend the night, and maybe also following nights, together. Then they would part again, with no bonding to each other. It was neither unusual that a man served multiple women at the same time nor that one woman invited many in the same night. Homosexuality was accepted as a matter of course among both genders.

 

While most women possessed their own houses or shared living facilities with other women, men were expected to live in apartment buildings for men only of fifty or more floors. Sons lived with their mothers until they were twelve years only – a period long enough to teach them how to read and write, sometimes also the basics of a second language as well as their third-ratedness – and then sent into these establishments. Apartments were paid for by their mothers until they found a job. The role of the father in their lives was barely existent; hardly any child even knew who it was.

 

Girls were kept at the house of their mothers until they finished education which was mostly when they were in between 25 and 30 years old, later they searched for an own home near their workplace. It rarely happened that a daughter stayed with her mother; in a situation like this a girl could quickly earn the reputation of a mollycoddle.

 

As the Second World War has slowed technological development down and as the countries participating in the switch of power have isolated themselves completely for other countries despite the fact that there were hardly any women with enough education to take it up again at that time, these countries have not managed to keep up with the technological standards. Even in the year 2050, a TV is a product found only among richer families. The few devices that there are have been strictly shielded from channels from countries pursuing equal rights. Within the years female engineers have found a way to copy the Internet, however, they established a strictly censored version shielded from websites not from within their network. Although hardly any men have access to the Internet, it is controlled to permit the usage of the net for male rebellion. Telephones and radios have been designed to work only within certain countries for the same reasons. Except for politicians and some very rich and influential women, hardly anyone is connected to the outer world. With the exception of Russia, cars work with electricity only – not because women want to protect nature but because they do not want to be dependent on supplies from patriarchal countries.

 

However, in the year 2051, this self-inflicted isolation seemed to be threatened as a group of people from countries not part of the female federation, as they called themselves, set foot on the beach of Germany near Bremen. The technology development in the countries not among the female federation had not been slowed down as drastically as the one in countries who were. Most of these countries had not participated in the Second World War – or at least the war hadn’t taken place on their land – and had served as a getaway for men living in countries who should later form the female federation, among them specialists from a range of different facilities. This enabled these countries, many of them regarded as backwards before the war, to outwit the countries in the female federation at least in these areas. (In short - while the weaponry of the women in female federation is about on the same level as what we have now while the invading group possess slightly futuristic equipment.)

 

Plot

There was one topic that dominated the news lately. After the first encounter the police forces of Germany wanted to hold peacefully, it is said, ended in the death of five policewomen caused by superiority of the weaponry the invaders had brought with them. The news do not report of any further encounters, but as censorship from the government is a usual measure to protect the people, the streets are full with speculations on how many victims this invasion by a country disobeying the natural order has already cost. The channels not censored due to their usual untrustworthiness are full of scaremongers with theories surpassing each other with unsettling absurdity. The most popular one is a theory stating that the invaders are spies sent form one of the countries that still grant men privileges they are not supposed to be able to enjoy. Other theories are that in these countries women are treated so badly that they committed mass suicide and that the men who do not know their place in life have came to force the German citizens to accompany them as slaves, that they are here to beg for forgiveness for their sins but been misunderstood in their barbaric behavior or that they have come to blow Bremen with their unnatural weaponry.

 

Not only in Germany but in the whole of the Female Federation the mood has swung drastically. Women have started to distrust the men. Many of them have started to fear riots not that they might have come to that there still are countries granting them equal or even more rights. Grouping of more than four men outside of their apartment buildings or those necessary work have been forbidden in Germany and its neighboring countries, the few that still occur being interrupted by police forces, the offenders being arrested and thrown into prison for two weeks. At the same time, some men did come to the conclusion the women feared – if those men who were causing so many troubled could lead a life equal to their sisters, why couldn’t they? After one riot in Munich had been crushed mercilessly by police forces with many of the revolutionaries being killed and many more being arrested, the resistance started to become more subtle and better prepared.

 

As if was not safe to assume than every man shared these thoughts, the atmosphere in the apartment buildings became more hostile and more tense, no-one trusting the other anymore. This atmosphere was not eased by the fact that the police had started to perform raids to search the buildings for signs of betrayal, the alleged committers being arrested. Still there were groups of men preparing for a riot or at least for hiding and helping the invaders should they appear in their cities.

 

 

 

At the same time, the small group of people who had accidentally run ashore in the German beach feared for their lives. They had known it was dangerous to enter the North Sea, a region entirely in control of the modern amazons, as they were colloquially called among countries that pursued equal rights, and still they had dared to do so in the hope to flee from the marines chasing them. They had managed to escape the dangers of arrested for smuggling and in some cases for worse – but now that they had grounded in a country that was said to be populated by men-eating beast women in so many cock-and-bull stories, the saw that the danger was far greater than they had thought it to be.

 

On the first gaze the women approaching them had made a rather normal impression – but as they were about to surrender, the women concealed weapons at them that reminded of museum pieces and started to shoot. The smugglers had no choice but to return the fire to save their lives, even if they knew that in long run it was their death sentence. They were lucky that none of them died in the fire.

 

They tried to avoid encounters with other women from that day on. Still they ran into two more patrols, both ending in the death of the women. Yet after a while their water and food provision ran out. They had to make a decision that could very well mean their end – would they dare approaching a city for supplies?

 

 

Rules

• Let's try to make this enjoyable, alright? I don't particularly care for perfection in style or grammer or what-not, but if reading something is tiring rather than fun, I’d rather not see it in here. Simple way to measure: If writing a post made you smile, you’re good to go and warmly welcome
• As many characters as you feel will turn out nicely.
• No spamming and no one-liners, let's keep this nice and clean~
• If you end up banned (which isn’t likely if you’re not trying very hard…), your character will die a dishonorable and absurd death most likely involving honey bees, braces and a bowling ball.
• If you have any complaints, wishes or suggestions, feel free to pm me or post them here – you’ll get a hug or a cookie, depending on what you prefer. If you offer some useful constructive criticism I’ll love you forever! Also, if I got any of the facts wrong, please tell me. Most of them are from rather dubious websites O.<
• This is supposed to be more or less realistic. No fantasy creatures, no super powers, no naturally green hair and no flying cars, except if they’re called helicopters. Flying toasters are fine, of course.
• The invading group can consist of both men and women.
• Just post your entrance posts/character forms in the thread, please.

Character Applications

I don’t like character sheets too much, so feel free to use a paragraph intro. Actually, pretty please use a paragraph intro! For those of you who prefer sheets – Name, Age, Gender, Nationality, Appearance and if you want to other points you consider interesting. I don't care much for other information you wouldn't know when first seeing a person, so feel free to skip personality, history etc. Hell, for all I care a picture of your character plus name, age and nationality are enough.

Your characters do not have to be approved, just start playing right away, if I'm not happy with something, I'll be telling you.

Edited August 16, 2011 by Saryk

[Saryk]

Alright, been two weeks- if someone feels like posting go right ahead, I'll do mine in a bit~

[Walker]

((Approved my perverted little genius~))

[Nihlus]

((Well then, I guess I'll deal the first card. First of two intros, but I'll post the other one after a few more posts turn up.))

 

------------------

 

Day was approaching. The creeping dawn brought a close to the job, a very satisfactory close. Pale glowing shafts of light reached into the sparse, ill-kept little room. A bare-bones box with little furnishing. Isador watched the sunlight start to push back the night, pulling the bedsheet tighter about his waist and observing the sleeping figure across the room. The last gasps had faded a while ago, and now soft even breathing was holding a calm atmosphere aloft. It would last until those beautifully chocolate-coloured eyes opened, Isador knew, and then he’d see whether his job was as finished as he thought.

 

Already the first stirrings were beginning. A faint groan permeated the stillness, the sound of awakening. The observer, seated by the window, flicked a strand of white-blonde hair over his shoulder, keen greyish eyes watching with vague interest. A hitched breath of recollection drew a lazy smile to his lips, and the panicked way those eyes locked with his only served to increase his delight.

 

“Good morning Ethan.” He said calmly, drawing out the syllables in a leisurely fashion, the fine English tint of his voice slipping flawlessly into the space between them. The figure in the bed stiffened, staring in silence. Isador cocked his head, tutting in false disappointment.

 

“How rude.” He admonished, rising from his seat and crossing the room, chuckling as his companion scooted back to sit with his back against the wall, a hunted look on his fair face, framed in burned-blonde hair. Isador paused, considering. Stare raking the length of the body before him, but not showing anything of what he thought. “But then, I suppose we knew already that you were quite ungracious. Going against the mistress like that. Very unruly of you, dearest.” The sobering look on his face didn’t seem to match the mirth in his gaze, reaching to stroke the sleep-curled locks and baring teeth in an amused smile when Ethan flinched away with a plaintive squeak. Curled inwards into a tight little ball and attempting to put the pillow between himself and Isador. Hard grey eyes pierced him.

 

“I trust you’ve learned your lesson.” A sharp, jerky nod was his only response. Isador brightened. “Good! I am glad... though I regret I won’t have reason to visit again.” His tone turned steely, leaning in to within a few inches of distance. Ethan winced as a puff of breath hit his face “I won’t have another reason, will I?” A shake of the head. Wide frightened eyes staring up at him. Isador sighed wistfully. “Pity. You did make the most wonderful noises once you got into it.” If he noticed Ethan’s shiver or the faint dusting of pink that tinged his cheeks he didn’t say anything about it. The fingers running through darker hair tightened, wrenched backwards and pulled the younger man closer. Isador bit playfully at Ethan’s neck, ignoring the grimace both arts pain and fear, to suck sharply. When he pulled away a livid mark stamped his target as a conquest. The latest of many, and not the last. “Always remember where your loyalties lie, and don’t ever think you are indispensible. We men may be fewer than once, but that doesn’t mean idiots have to be tolerated to preserve the number.” Isador purred into Ethan’s ear as he rose and located his clothing. Nothing fancy, a loose fitting shirt and jeans. Easy on, easy off. Necessary in his line of work. He laced his boots as though nothing had transpired the previous night or this morning. No memories of sweat and nails passed his mind. As far as he was concerned, the blonde in the bed was of no interest anymore. A cooperative toy was a boring one. The fight was the fun. He supposed he got that from his mistress. She loved the fight, in more ways than one.

 

He closed the door behind him as he left the after-scent of exertion behind, idly wondering how long it would take his latest job to recover. He had been easier to break than some of the others. Barely twenty minutes of work had seen him completely at Isador’s mercy, pleading and twisting and generally just being rather vocal. There had been no ice in his eyes. The defiance had slipped away too easily. A shame.

 

Several men shrank back as Isador passed by, all confident strides despite the black leather collar around his neck. His reputation was a well-known one. The enforcer. Anyone who went against a certain woman who held his leash, or her friends, was eventually visited in the dead of night by the tall, pale and horribly charming man - or the other one, he thought briefly, but that was not so very common. It was his job to whip them back into shape, sometimes literally. It was a good job, though lately people had been getting the message too well. A few fought more desperately, but most simply gave up, just another tally mark. All too often he was sent on some errand through a fit of covetous jealousy, or baseless paranoia, only to find a shivering wreck where he hoped for an iron willed model of a man. One he could really get his teeth into without those annoying whines.

 

Still, it did mean that he was free, relatively speaking, to do as he pleased in his spare time. Not that he had much spare time lately. His mistress was a demanding, if slightly childish sort. Oh he loved her, in his own twisted way, but it was really the love of a pet allowed to carry out his base urges. Indulgence. That said, she had his respect. She was strong, and she had no trouble walking over her so-called friends to get to what she wanted.

 

To his left a rather bold man shot him a coy glance, eyeing in particular the shimmering white-blonde hair that fell to his waist. He had similar glances from women, but they were of course more demanding, and ones he was not permitted to rebuff under normal circumstances. The man was intriguing though, and Isador filed his image away for later. Perhaps a side-order to be kept for later? Glancing back with half-lidded eyes he shot an inviting smile back. An invitation, to accept or decline as willed... at first glance anyway. If it was declined, well he’d probably still have him anyway.

 

A quick turn brought him home. Home to his keeper. It was an odd thought, being a slave, for it was what he was really... but he didn’t mind. So long as he got to play, he was content.

 

And oh, did he get to play.

 

[Saryk]

((Wee! And you know you love it, Walker! ;3 ))

 

With a soft clicking noise the flame of a pocket lighter illuminated the still dim streets. With a quiet sigh the tall man inhaled the first breath of smoke and leaned back against the wall. “Things are goddamned messed up here”, he announced to the wall in front of him with a voice that was weeping with self assurance.

 

“I don’t get how these kids can call themselves men, I really don’t. Cause they’re not. Ya know? They ain’t men, they’re pets. Or toys. Or something. Meh. Toys. Toys of desperate women who no decent men woulda taken. That’s why they turned insane. Yes. And those guys deserved it if they didn’t manage to maintain their freedom. They let them make them into toys. So basically, they toyified themselves. Yes. They deserved it.”

 

He stared at the wall, started attempting to blow smoke rings and failed after a few unfruitful minutes. After a long pause he proudly added, “Damn I’m high.”

 

Beowulf was one of the few people among their little group who were able to understand German, even if he had a terrible accent. That was the main reason why he had been chosen, very much against his wishes, to go and examine the situation in the city Bremen despite his noticeable looks. Standing over two meters tall he surpassed most of the Germans in height by far, and to be honest that was no different to the staff of the ship that was not lying crushed somewhere on the group of the sea. Although originally of German origin, spending most of his life outside under the African sun had tanned his skin to a color much darker than his long blond mane, and awards of fought battles, which was how he called the many scars and disfigurements on his body - as it did sound a lot better than "I tend to fall when I'm high" - were not really the best method for him to blend in with the few people on the streets either.

 

Maybe he shouldn’t have taken the shot before.

 

The Sky Dancer’s cargo had consisted mainly of two things. For one, weaponry. Nothing fancy, unfortunately, otherwise they wouldn’t have been in as much trouble at the moment, but still modern enough to surpass the toys these women had by far. Two, drugs. Mainly heroin, but also other substances, some of them so exotic even a junkie like Beowulf couldn’t recognize them. But he had decided to change that fact the faster the better. There were more important things in life than crazy bananas, after all.

 

It had taken him quite a while to find a place where he could smoke without annoying observers. He had seen two or three women smoking on his way, but nothing too fancy, and he certainly wouldn't give those chicks the opportunity to start lusting after his stuff. He wouldn't be sharing, that was sure.

 

A few minutes later Beowulf had finished the joint and enjoyed himself with a very deep, philosophical talk with a pink elephant who had joined him in his lightheaded happiness.

“Ya know, they actually aren’t as bad”, he giggled towards the elephant and carefully applied some of liquid onto a thin piece of paper, careful not to spill anything. It was not an easy talk considering how much his hands were shaking and that the street was spinning around him. He had no idea what it was he was taking or how it had ended up in his bag, but he surely didn’t want to question his luck. Probably had ended up there during one of his orgies on the ship – and if he had known, it wouldn’t have been there anymore anyway.

He offered some of the paper to the elephant, shrugged as he refused and took it himself, happily chewing around on the paper.

 

“I mean, sure, you don’t know how to keep your ladies under control", he added, slowly chewing the paper, “but at least you’re fun. Eh?” He looked at the elephant and grinned wryly. Then, as the elephant stood up and turned around, his grin faded.

“Shoulda thought so. Pink’s a girl’s color.”

He shook his head, grinned happily and carefully got up. It took a while, but after a few trials he managed to stay on his feet, even if he had to grab the wall to support himself. “You know, I think I found out the meaning of life, gal. The true meaning of life, not this number banana some people keep telling you. Foa-. Fou-. Forty-two. Forty-two. Bah. I mean, what kinda meaning is that?” He grinned knowingly and started at the elephant with dark rings beneath his eyes.

“Nah. The real meaning of life. The real meaning of life. Is. Is. Wait. What the hell are you doing, gal?” His mouth wide open and still chuckling like a madman he watched the elephant put on a miniskirt and starting to dance the waltz. The animal seemed to grow suddenly, and the taller it grew the more transparent it became. He could he inner organs of the animals, and as he leaned closer, his jaw dropped.

 

“Never thought a heart really looks like a heart. And… What’s that you’ve eaten? A plushie duck?” He stared into the elephant’s tummy for a moment. “That’s right. Now I remember. The meaning of life is a plushie duck.” He grinned. “You’re awesome, chick. Really. But… But…. Ugh.” There was a reason for him being here, and he could even vaguely remember a little blue head was involved. It had something to do with… Dwarven crocodiles? Was that possible? Yes, probably. It had to be something along those lines. “Yeah. Sorry, but you’re not a croc. You’re an elephant with the meaning of life in your belly, and you’re not blue. I guess. But. Wait.” He chuckled at the elephant, shook his head and wondered off, highly concentrated watching his balance.

Edited August 15, 2011 by Saryk

[RinaChiba]

The sounds and smells of eggs and sausage being cooked came from the tiny apartment kitchen. This had become a new routine for the nine-teen year old man at the stove, unlike his former routine where he would sleep until near noon and then fix lunch. Ever since his new roommate had forced their way in last week, he had had to get used to much earlier mornings. Jared had managed to adjust easily enough, so it wasn't that big a deal to him.

 

As he moved the eggs onto a pair of plates, he looked over at the waif seated at the tiny table. He was the only one that new that the 'boy' was really a young girl. One who had pretty much threatened his life by aiming a gun right in his face. When you're literally starring down the barrel of a gun, you generally don't say 'no' to whatever is being asked of you. Not if you want to live, at least. Then again, he couldn't blame her for being agressive. Not after what happened during her arrival to the country. Still, seeing the her cleaning a top of the line sniper rifle didn't exactly put him much at ease.

 

Shoving some stray blonde locks out of his dark gree eyes, he finished making making breakfast and set the plates on the table. "Got any plans for the day, Remy?"

 

Ice blue eyes peeked up through scruffy black hair before turning back to the weapon in hand. Yet another part of the new morning ritual. One the bright side, at least those spooky eyes no longer sent shivers down his spine.

 

"Not sure," The girl answered, a bit of an American accent being heard in her voice.

 

Like Jared, Remy was having to adjust to a new routine. Normally, she would check for messages on her laptop and then clean her guns while she waited for her handler to arrive with breakfast. Sometimes, if she would be waiting for a longer period of time, she would work on something from her online school. Life as an assassain was actually more quiet than one would think. Especially when you're seven-teen and most of your work was done safely from the roof of a tall building and nowhere near the target.

 

"You should eat while it's still warm."

 

Jared's voice broke through her thoughts, turning her away from the rifle in her hands. She watched as he loosely braided the longest part of his hair. Why he kept half his hair short and the other half long made no sense to her and she had voiced her opinion on the matter. Did it have something to do with those pointed ears of his? Of course, she was never a fan of long hair to begin with. It got in the way, got tangles and was heavy. That was why she kept her own hair so short.

 

Setting the weapon down, the disguised teen started eating.

 

After eating, Jared set his dishes in the sink. "Why don't you come to work with me? It'll be better than staying cooped up in here all day. And I'll make sure that no one touches you." He had learned pretty quickly there were two things one shouldn't do in regards to the pale skinned girl. Don't make her sleep on the bed and don't ever try to touch her. The second being more important than the first.

 

Remy was quiet but gave a small nod. It would be good to get out for a bit. "Okay. Do I need to wear anything special?"

 

"No. But I'll put something out for you. I still need your measurements, too. That way I can make you your own clothes."

 

There was a slightly uneasy look on her face. Last time Jared said he needed her measurements he had tried wrapping a measuring tape around her. Not really what she had been thinking about. That was before she realized he was planning to make her clothes and that he worked as a tailor. She gave me a small nod, though, not saying whether she would let him get them himself or not.

 

After dressing, the two left the apartment and made their way to where Jared worked.

 

(For the record, Jared is not an elf or anything. He was just born with strange looking ears.)

Edited August 15, 2011 by RinaChiba

[Nihlus]

"Oh! Master Quinn!" The tall, dark-haired man turned at the sound of his name, locating its origin in a small skinny little guy a few paces away. Quinn briefly thought of ignoring the call. He didn't like the one addressing him, and he had things to do that were actually important. "Master Quinn you can't go in right now, the mistress is dealing with someone else." Ah. Reluctantly he took his hand from the door handle, and now that he thought about it he could hear raised voices behind the thick door.

 

"A client?" He asked, almost hopefully. He'd been without work for far too long, all the jobs going to Isador's jurisdiction of late. The secretary -of a sort- shook his head.

 

"A rival of the mistress has filed a complaint against her for supposedly intruding on her territory. She sent an envoy to request a meeting." Quinn snorted.

 

"She thought that would work?" As if on cue, the door of the office broke off its hinges with the sound of splintering wood and a youngish boy clattered to the floor with it, a surprised yelp escaping him as he collided with the fragments. In the doorway stood Callie Nix, Quinn's -and Isador's- mistress. A tall woman with a powerful but lean build, copper-streaked dark blonde hair and vibrant green eyes. Eyes that were presently narrowed in disdain as she eyed the boy at her feet.

 

"Next time you bother coming to me, make sure your owner's terms aren't so bloody moronic!" As the boy scrambled away with a gibbered affirmation, she seemed to finally notice her enforcer standing a few paces away. "Ah, Quinn. There you are. Come in." Staring somewhat bemusedly at the door as he edged around it into the room, he waited until she'd seated herself before he bothered talking. The room smelled of sawdust, he noted offhand, and something vaguely spicy. Nix motioned at him to sit, though he declined the offer. She shrugged broad shoulders at the refusal, and instead got right down to business.

 

"I take it you're here to report success."

 

"Yeah. Ethan's been dealt with. He won't be bothering you again." Nix gave a smile that almost made her seem sharklike, approval glittering in her eyes.

 

"Excellent, it's good to know I can count on you boys to get the job done."

 

"Aye Ma'am."

 

"Since you're here, you can take Isador's cut and deliver it to him. It's on Jack's desk." Even seeing her beckoning to someone who must've been behind him, Quinn couldn't stop himself from jumping as a man slighter shorter than him brushed silently past. Dammit, he berated himself for the obviousness of the reaction, he'd completely forgotten about Nix's 'roommate'. Which was a charitable term. He might not have worn a collar like Isador and Quinn, but Alex was possibly even more Callie Nix's slave than they were. Oh, she treated him just fine apart from the occasional creepy moment, but something about the whole thing made Quinn feel uncomfortable. Which was saying a lot given his profession. The man was virtually silent, never made eye contact with anyone, and yet he somehow seemed to know everything. Quinn didn't even know where he was from.

 

As the story went, he was Nix's first conquest during her rapid rise to power. Someone she'd kept around as a symbol of her capabilities at first, and then gradually grown fond of. He was also off-limits. Her first enforcer had learned that the hard way. Nix allowed her men free-run of her streets and the people in them, but Alex -it seemed- was hers and hers alone. Which was kind of a shame, in his opinion. Despite being outside Quinn's personal age bracket preference, he wasn't bad looking and damn could he kick you around if he wanted.

 

Though Quinn himself was more into small cute things, Isador was enthralled by the silent, competent type. Idly toying with his long, shaggy black hair, he watched as Alex bent to speak into Nix's ear. Nix remained impassive, listening intently but not giving any clue as to her thoughts. Then, ever so slowly, a wicked grin spread across her face.

 

"Well, isn't that special." She chuckled darkly, drawing her index finger contemplatively across Alex's jaw as she mulled over whatever new information she'd been provided with. "Very nice work, Love. Quinn, I've got something for you at last." Oh hell yes. That caught his attention. "Robert Lembitt. Twenty one. District thirty."

 

"What's the damage?"

 

"The unruly child is being rather vocal about his issues with his owner. She fears his words carry enough weight to gain momentum. She wants him silenced, but not killed." Quinn grinned widely, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his jeans.

 

"Sounds right up my alley. I'll get on it as soon as I visit Isador." Nix nodded curtly.

 

"I'd tell you to be thorough, but I don't think I really have to."

 

"No Ma'am. it'll be -hehe- my pleasure." Tipping his imaginary hat, he turned on his heel and strode out of the room, trampling the ruined door as he went.

 

------------

 

Callie watched him go with a faint sense of amusement. Eager to please, both of them, and very into their jobs. Which was good. It meant their morals didn't get in the way. If they even had morals. She wouldn't have said so, but it didn't matter either way. The choice was work or die. There wasn't a third option. The fact she didn't have to push them to get the job done was just a bonus.

 

As she leaned back in her chair she sighed, glancing out of the window and twisting the long tail of her hair around her finger. Something was going on out there, somewhere. There was a strange sort of tension lately, like a held breath before a plunge. She felt like it should set her on edge, except that she wasn't all that bothered by what happened unless it knocked on her door. At which point it would be forcibly removed. No sense dealing with it until it actively became her problem... whatever it was.

 

"Perhaps I'm being paranoid." She mused to herself, waving off Alex's querying glance with a snort. "Nothing, Love. Merely...thinking aloud." Well, best not to think too hard on it. She had people and places to manage. Right now though, she just wanted some time to herself after dealing with the idiots of the morning.

 

"Jack!" She barked, waiting patiently as her assistant scrambled to get into the room and stand at attention. "What else do I have today?"

 

"Nothing pressing, Ma'am." He replied, self-consciously tucking brown hair behind his ear. "An appointment later this evening but nothing until then." Hm. Then it was settled. She'd go out for a while, stretch her legs. Get some air. Survey the subjects, as it were. As she stood she beckoned to Alex where he remained beside her, pulling him forward into a fierce -and entirely possessive- kiss. A fond farewell, in her own strange way. When he pulled back she cast him a surprised stare. It had been a long, long time since he'd rebuffed her. She thought she'd taught him to know better by now.

 

"The door." He said quietly by way of explanation.

 

"What of it?"

 

"It is no longer there." Ah, then this was a privacy thing was it? Though she laughed, the way her fingers rested lightly against his neck was more a threat than it seemed at first glance, and her eyes narrowed dangerously. When she spoke, her voice was low and eerily cool.

 

"Alex, darling, what on earth makes you think you have a say in what I do to you?" Though he did not flinch, she could see the sudden tension the words provoked. That was okay though, she liked to be opposed now and then so long as she was able to gain the upper hand when she wanted to. Besides, being ever so slightly bigger than him made it much easier to regain control. As she proved now, backing him up roughly until the blunt edge of her desk jabbed into his spine. She still didn't ease up the pressure, pushing him into the edge until she drew a pained wince.

 

"I may treat you better than the others, but we're still not equals. Remember?"

 

"Y-yes, Mistress." Though she still did not let him up, that sharklike smile flashed across her face.

 

"Good. To whom do you belong?" She could almost hear his teeth grinding with resentment. While he was perfectly fine serving her normally, she knew he did not like being forced to verbally acknowledge it.

 

"...You, Mistress. I serve you." It seemed to drive her point home since he did not attempt to evade her again, allowing her to slip her tongue past his lips while she held his wrists to the desktop. A crude way to establish the chain of command, perhaps, but effective. Also more fun.

 

"Of course you do," she purred softly, watching the overhead light shine off his black hair. "Just don't forget it again. I don't like having to do this without setting aside a day to do it properly." She was certain she did not imagine the way he shivered. Ah, but she did enjoy putting him in his place. Now was not the time though. She had a walk to take. "Now, be a good boy until I get back." That said she released his wrists to retrieve her jacket from the hook on the wall, pulling it on in a smooth movement and snatching her keys from the nearby coffee table as she passed.

 

"Oh," she added as an afterthought at the door...or doorway, smiling with deceptive sweetness. "And if any of the boys get any funny ideas, you have my permission to break something of theirs. Keep order for me, hm? Perhaps it will help me simply forget this little incident."

 

Once out in the street, pulling her jacket about her against the early chill, she set off towards the centre. She had no fear of being attacked. No one in their right mind would try anything on her, and even if they did she was not unarmed. She wasn't intending to start trouble though. Today was just for clearing her head. Besides...

 

Maybe she could pick up some hints of what was going on lately.

 

[Saryk]

Beowulf stumbled back as he bumped into something that, contrary to the other little toys, did not make way or back down. He frown and tried again, with the same result. He reached for the thing in front of him, missed and tried again. It was…. Hard? He felt his way closer, fascinated, watching the thing transform, change shape and color, and after a while taking up the smell of old pudding. Not hard anymore either, instead rather… fluffy.

 

The elephant who had meanwhile introduced herself as Monika poked the strange object suspiciously with her trunk, then she lifted it up and trumpeted reassuringly towards the army of little plushie ducks, before the sound was muffled by a wave of sweets and candy – all wrapped individually, of course – streaming out of her beak and bathing the ground in a very real version of Cockaigne. Yet before Beowulf was able to even reach for a few of the never-ending river of sweets, the ducks had already tackled the task of eliminating every last piece of evidence of paradise on earth.

 

The man’s lips trembled as his desperate attempts to reach the candy, the bread to the starving, failed when confronted with such a mass of very resolute plushie ducks. He stumbled after them, following the stream as Monika had started running.

Not running, was she?

They were taking her.

They were taking her!

They were taking his friend, his leader in this strange land, his food source! A plushie under each of her Gerard Butlers they were taking her her away from him in a near unthinkable speed. Beowulf hurried to follow, but it seemed that Monika kept getting carried further and further away, quicker than he could ever hope to swim.

 

It made him angry, and so Beowulf grabbed the meaning of life and bit off its head.

 

The duck was made of chocolate. It tasted nice, nicer than the candy possibly could have. With an expression mixing relief, happiness and vengefulness into grotesque abomination Beowulf threw himself onto the sea of ducks, who might just be bunnies, and started a feast to finally, finally, relief his sudden hunger for sugar.

Before he could finish the ducks started to combine, the merge and to resurrect as a living, moving creature gleaming in bright pink. A high-pitched little giggle escaped his lips as he wrapped his arms around the fluffy ball of cute and clung to it. Still refusing to let go of the now rather smooth feeling collar but not being able – or willing, it did feel rather nice – to control his legs anymore he sunk to the ground and cuddles up around it. A single hiccup shook his body, then a deeply engrossed expression appeared on his mangled face as he finally lost himself in the colorful happiness of a world of pink ballerina elephants and wise old plushie ducks.

 

Rufus poked the sleeping person who had taken it upon himself to warm his feet suspiciously with his boot, then stepped of the man’s grasp. He bit his lips, contemplatingly eyeing him up, then grabbed a sharpie and drew a mustache onto the weirdo’s face. He hesitated, then added a few more ornaments before he continued his way.

And there people went saying he was weird.

 

[RinaChiba]

The shop where Jared worked was quiet. Every now and then a woman would come in and either be fitted for a business suit or some kind of dress or something. A few times, Remy would be asked to fetch some material or write down some information. Other than that not much seemed to really be going on.

 

After setting up an appointment over the phone, Jared looked over at his roommate. "Bored?"

 

Blinking, Remy looked up at him for a moment and then back at the floor. "A little," She admitted.

 

Nodding, he looked around to see if he could find something for the girl to occupy herself with. There wasn't exactly much in the shop. Fabric, mostly. Still, there had to be something that she could do and not get into trouble. "Why don't you take inventory and handle the phone while I go and get us something to drink?"

 

"Sure." She didn't wait for anything more to be said as she grabbed the note pad and pen she'd been using and went to complete the task. On the plus side, there was plenty of fabric there which meant she would be busy. On the negative, it was boring work. At least she was used to boring work, though. Waiting was one of the biggest things in her profession. Most of the time she couldn't really do anything to occupy herself during the wait so this was a bit different.

 

By the time she had finished, Jared had returned with a couple bottles of tea. He handed one to Remy as he sat down. "Any calls?"

 

"No. But you should see about getting some more of that dark blue silk."

Edited August 22, 2011 by RinaChiba

[Nihlus]

One hand on the door to his room, Isador paused, catching movement in the corner of his eyes. A young thirty-something man with a wiry kind of srength to his frame. Pursing his lips the blonde watched a few seconds longer, weighing up how much he wanted to bother striking up a conversation, then abruptly turned away and unlocked his door after deciding he'd rather just go home for now.

 

“Checking out the local cuisine again Puddin’?” Isador froze for a split second, muscles tensing at the unwelcome voice in his home. It didn’t take long to regain his composure, but he was sure the other man had noticed, much to his own annoyance. The other man being another employee of his mistress, and one he didn’t get on all that well with. As tall as Isador himself, but much darker overall. Darker skin, much darker hair, and a far darker aura to him. Dangerous, and more falsely cheerful. The blonde eyed him as he stepped properly into the room, keeping his distance.

 

“What do you want Quinn?” He almost snapped, barely managing to catch himself. Then he added as an afterthought “and don’t call me that.” Quinn shrugged easily, long legs stretched out in front of him as though it was his own home. Completely relaxed, slouched in one of the chairs with his arms dangling over the sides. A lopsided smile slipped onto his face.

 

“Just came to let you know the big boss is pleased. Says good job and all that.”

 

“I haven’t reported my success yet.” Isador said glacially, eyes narrowing. Quinn grinned up at him and winked.

 

“Course not, but I did.”

 

“Spying on me? Really Quinn?”

 

“Well you know I love watching you work.” Isador had to fight not to flush red at that. Confidence over those you knew you could handle was one thing. Quinn had proved before he was a match for his co-worker, though neither ever really got the upper hand for long in their rivalry. Quinn allowed his comment to sink in, watching for any sign it affected the other. When no squirming became apparent he shrugged and reverted back to business.

 

“Anyway. Good job, well done, like I said. You have the rest of the day free, so Boss Girl tells us.” Isador quirked an eyebrow.

 

“There’s no-one else?”

 

“Nope. Not for you anyway, and I've only got one m'self. Looks like they’re falling in line a bit too quick now.” A heave of effort brought Quinn’s muscled frame off the plush seat he’d been slowly sinking into, heavy boots thudding against the floorboards. Yawning, he stretched out lean limbs. The deliberate puffing out of his chest made the blonde-haired man grimace.

 

“Show off.” Isador quipped coolly. Quinn snorted, clapping Isador on the back and heading out the door.

 

“Well, I got a rebel to break in. See ya around Puddin!” He exclaimed, loudly, as he set foot onto the outside corridors. Isador winced. “Don’t call me that!” He berated, but Quinn was already gone.

 

“Idiot.” He snapped darkly, casting a look about the room to make sure his colleague had neither moved nor stolen anything, as he was prone to doing. Alone now, the professional mask dropped away entirely and he sighed, leaning his head against the wall and closing his eyes. He was tired, but not enough to sleep. Not enough to even stay here, not now that Quinn’s singularly aggravating stench hovered about the place. Isador wrinkled his nose absently, rubbing a hand over his face and through his hair. Might as well wander around then. Nothing to do meant free time. He spent most of his free time, aside from picking up companions, roaming the streets in the fresh air. Even in the rain. Isador liked rain. You often got better views in the rain.

 

Today it was meant to be hot and close despite the present cold, and he wondered briefly why Quinn had bothered bringing a coat at all. The thought was brushed away with a shrug and, after changing out of his ‘work clothes’ and into a loose white shirt and faded jeans, Isador left his apartment room and headed out along the walkways, plastering the charm back into place. Let it never be said he didn’t keep up appearances. With nothing really better to do, other than remind himself to look up that promising man from earlier that Quinn’s appearance had knocked from his mind, he wandered leisurely down to the markets. On a day like this it’d be busy, and he could get a good idea of any newcomers, or any potential targets he’d be required to deal with in the coming days.

 

The instant the warmth of the sun hit his face he forgot about Quinn, tipping his head back to bask in the light as he walked. He’d learned to enjoy these moments the most. Or at least, more than his work. In the absence of the latter, the former would have to do.

 

 

[Saryk]

Silly guy just had to try and run, tsts. Even after he’d taken the time to slowly and coherently explain to him the rules of proper etiquette beforehand. It’s a mess, the attitude of some people. What do the parents do, he wondered? Or in the very least the elders surrounding him, as they were supposed to?

Of course, none of his business per se if they didn’t demand the respect they were entitled to be the naughty little boys- but if they didn’t grow up according to the proper rules of conduct, what would happen to this country? Anarchy, that’s what! Nono, not desirable at all, now is it? It was a public duty, bringing the youngsters of this land of theirs up correctly! He would make sure to do his part in the system. And even if he was the last person standing, he, Rufus, would keep protecting the order, slightly and lovingly push back into the line, for the greater good he would…

Wait.

What? What?

In the butt?

Shiny!

 

And so he stopped rambling along to his line of though, and let of go the silly little boy. Dropped from back down to the floor, landing on his knees, lovely position. And then went chop, squishsquish for a little while, then a tiny little bump, and some happy purling, lovely! Maike, my Maike, you’re never gonna disappoint me like that, are you? Nooo, not you, never you, hm? People like you are the future of this country! Love you too, hun~

And again it went squishsquish with each of his steps as he walked away, his boots dyed an adorable deep red. The color of love, how fitting. And just like Maike looked right now too, and like his nails, how perfect!

 

He kind of felt like doing it again. For the good of the people. And the nice squishy sounds. And all the flirting with Maike, just lovely…

 

Though he did kind of need new clothes beforehand, these were a little itchy. Also, wet. Maybe a shower, too? Where to get one, whether to get one? Nowhere to go for the time being…. And, most importantly- a dress, this time? A dress would be nice. And maybe some new shoes! You could never have too many shoes! Although these ones were of a lovely red right now, just lovely… But they were lacking heels, and he wanted to be pretty for his Maike. Also, he kind of wanted grey ones to fit his hair. Maybe with these adorable little bows… And Maike surely wanted a bath too, right? Of course my darling, we all wanna feel squeaky clean! We can bath together, it’s twice as fun! You naughty little thing, you! Where, you say?

And, as she had pointed out to him, there was a building that seemed to be in some relation to clothing. Sell or make? Not all that important, actually. As long as they have running water. And pretty shoes. And a nice dress of his size with these sweet little stitches on the sides, the way his mum had one…. Can’t hurt to check. Not much anyway.

Shoo!

[RinaChiba]

The day just seemed to be dragging on from Remy's point of view. With nothing to really do, though, it was easy to get bored. Still, what could she do? It wasn't like she knew much about tailoring or making clothes. What the assassain needed was something to do with her hands and doodling and jotting down random things in a notepad just wasn't cutting it.

 

A soft sigh reached Jared's ears and he looked over from the business suit he was working on. It was the third one he'd heard in the last half hour. Was the girl really that bored? Couldn't say he blamed her. Tailoring wasn't exactly a lively career.

 

He watched her for a moments, trying to see if there was something he could give her to keep her busy. One thing that was noticable was that Remy kept her fingers moving. Even when she was just sitting there, her fingers would tap against her legs, chair or even the little table beside her. Well, that was something to go on.

 

Setting aside his work, the blonde wandered into the back. When he came back, he set a box filled with scrap material and a small sewing kit beside her. "Maybe you can find something to do with these so you aren't so bored," He said in response to the inquisitve look he was given.

 

Remy wasn't sure what to make of all the scraps and thread, but, it was better than nothing. Without even waiting for her roommate to go back to his previous task, she started looking through the various throw aways and threads. Most of the pieces or odd shaped and small, perfect for patching jeans and shirts when new ones couldn't be bought right away.

 

A piece of silvery fabric caught her eye and she inspected it. It was smooth and had a silky feel to it. It was a decent size and rounded. Good for a decorative patch. Only problem was, it was too plain for being decorative, though. A little bit of hemming, maybe some kind of emboridery, then it could be good for decoration.

 

A quick search through the threads and she found the colors she thought would be perfect. She just needed one more thing. Something to put the fabric in to keep it from bunching up as she made the stitches. She had seen exactly what she needed back at the apartment, she just needed to go and get it.

 

"You mind if I go back to the apartment? I want to get that embroidery hoop I saw there."

 

Embroidery hoop? Jared was suprised she even knew what one was, let alone what it looked like. Well, if she needed it and it helped her keep busy, then why not let her go.

 

"Sure. The key's behind the counter."

 

-------

 

Halfway to the apartment building, Remy had caught some movement in an alley. Immediatly, her instincts kicked in and her guard went up. She took a cautious step towards the movement, ready to strike if whatever was there should attack her. Entering the alley, though, she relaxed as she came upon the source of the movement. A tiny, black kitten that had gotten tangled up in a ratty old blanket.

 

A tiny smile curled her lips as she untangled the tiny ball of fur and held it close. "Are you all alone?" A quick scan of the alley told her the mother wasn't anywhere nearby nor were there any siblings. Well, she couldn't just leave the poor little thing all by itself now could she? She'd just have to take it with her and surprise Jared.

 

---------

 

"Did you get what you needed?" Jared asked when he heard Remy return. The answer he received was not what he had expected and caused him to whirl around to find out what was going on. "Remy...why do you have a kitten?"

 

"I found him in the alley."

 

"You can't bring a cat in here, though."

 

"It's not as if I could just leave him alone in the apartment."

 

Well, she had a point there. Still, the shop was no place for an animal of any kind. Sighing, Jared rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Okay. But it-"

 

"Scythe."

 

"What?"

 

"I'm going to call him Scythe. His claws look like little scythes."

 

She'd named it. There was no getting rid of the ball of fluff now. "Okay. But Scythe can't stay in the shop. He'll get fur all over the fabric, his claws will make snaggs and there's no telling what he'll do to the thread."

 

"Then I'll take him to the apartment and stay with him."

 

"Okay. Tell you what. You get a job so that you can take care of him and then you can keep him. How does that sound?"

 

Remy couldn't have smiled brighter if she tried. The smile quickly fell, though. The girl didn't have the slightest idea as to where she could get a job. Jared caught on and looked at the fabric and loom she had originally set out for.

 

"What are you planning for the fabric?"

 

"Huh? Oh, I thought I'd make some patches."

 

Patches? Why would she need a loom for patches? Unless.... "You can do embroidery?"

 

Remy nodded. "Yeah. It was just something I started doing when I didn't have anything else to do."

 

"Go ahead and take the fabric and sewing kit with you. We can look over these patches when I get home."

 

There was that brightness from before. Kind of strange, really. Jared would never have thought that someone raised to be a killer could ever look so innocent. It made him wonder just what kind of life she had actually had before coming here. Well, that was something that could be looked into at another time. He watched as she gathered up her things, never once setting down Scythe, and left the shop.