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Snippet #2731865

located in Aires, a part of Birthstone Spirits: The Second Revival, one of the many universes on RPG.

Aires

None

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Tallyho Abel Character Portrait: Heather Devereaux Character Portrait: Ron Muller Character Portrait: Jules Fontaine
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The Whiskey and the Candle

The man in black would have shaken Ron’s hand with a callused palm and a firm grip. Finished his shot with a seamless tip of the chin. Offered a name, maybe not his own, but something to help the boy remember. But alas this man was too far gone to have such an interaction. In the time it took the young man to down the last drops of his beer the man disappeared without a sound, leaving behind the scent of burning leather and the candle burning brighter than ever.

Image


The Last Daughter


Tallyho was quaking with excitement at the idea of having money in her possession. And of course all she wanted was food, something that had been Haru’s suggestion in the first place.

The hodgepodge of shops, taverns and street merchants packed onto the narrow streets of Sanguine Square didn’t always make for the most pleasant of morning walks. It was like New York in a way, where locals barreled and squirmed through the swarms of people with very little regard for those around them. But for some, the sheer density of people in the city was a favorable quality, and it wasn’t uncommon for someone to head out to the market only to reach their destination with empty pockets.
It was because of this that Tallyho clutched her coins tightly in her fist until they finally settled on a place to eat. And after a fulfilling meal of meats, gravies and starches, the group was drawn to a tent billowing with laughter. Heather wasn’t the only one whose interest was piqued by a rumble of applause in the distance. Tallyho was so taken aback by it that she froze in her tracks at first. There were only two things that made people in Solace applaud, a good brawl and a good show. And considering the fact that the clapping in distance was accompanied by a chorus of joyous laughter, Tallyho figured that this was no fight. And maybe, by a strange turn of luck, it was something being put on by the caravan.

The thought of seeing her family and ending this strange journey before it started made her heart race. And so the blonde trudged into the tent after Heather and Jules, slipping and sliding between the waves of bodies in hopes of hearing the tried and true jokes of the caravan’s wiry haired host.

But she was, unsurprisingly, disappointed by what she found: On the stage a hodgepodge cast of actors made great fun of kings and leaders from Hales and the RK. It was an homage to the House of Harald, the country’s royal family. But this particular play is a classic for travelling troupes. Tallyho recognized it as a rotational piece called “The Three Kings,” which could be performed in Solace, Hales or the RK. The catch was that the cast would make fun of the two countries they weren’t performing in, uplifting their host country and appealing to their political views in exchange for generous tips. It was an easy cop out that appealed to vanity and kept people abreast of current events in the most irresponsible way possible.

While she didn’t always like her community, she didn’t think many people could compete with their talent. Disappointed and mentally kicking herself for even conceiving an escape back to her old life, the blonde bid a temporary farewell to the others, letting them know that she’d be waiting for them outside of the tent.

But of course things couldn’t have been as simple as that.

"I ain' like the rest of em!”

A woman yelled in a loud, slurred fluster. It came booming out from a butcher shop not far from the tent, and out came a young woman hobbling out the shop’s door in tears. Her large round cheeks were highlighted by the rosy flush of her face. Her size and stature was the first thing Tallyho and anyone else witnessing the scene might have noticed. She was pale girl with a full figure: Wide bosom, hips and thighs, and arms plump all the way down to her wrists. This wasn’t an uncommon body type for a woman living in the city of Malboro, the catch was that this particular woman may or may not have been more than six feet tall. And to be quite honest it was pretty visually striking to see a wailing woman of such physical presence bursting out onto the streets with such speed. But the most striking thing about this woman, if you asked Tallyho, was her ability to clear a path of bodies in the midst of a tearful escape. And by bodies, Tallyho meant her body, which was unfortunately occupying the wrong place at the wrong time. One minute she was peacefully exiting a play in Sanguine Square and the next she was bearing down in the dirt with the wind knocked out of her.

The wailing woman paused briefly at the scene of collapse, posing an open palm above Tallyho’s fallen body as if to apologize. But as more people stopped to watch the scene, no words could escape her lips. She gargled them over and over, trying to spit something out. And when that didn’t work she recoiled unspoken shame, physically straining to lighten the weight of her hurried steps and folding her arms firmly over chest and stomach as if to stop them from shaking and jiggling as she went.
A few folks in the crowd began to snicker, men looking up at her mockingly with their snaggle-teeth beaming in the sun while women leaned on their friends and whispered in cupped palms. Every eye in the square seemed to follow the giantess as she leaped through a crowd that curiously parted a path for her (something they don’t even do for drivers.)

An older man came wondering out of the shop, looking on with a furrowed brown. His expression could be read as worry, or maybe hurt, as he watched the woman disappear in to the crowd. By this point Tallyho somehow felt like she had unwittingly contributed to something terribly wrong, even if she had very little control over what had just happened. And without much thinking she weaseled through whatever walking space remained of the spectacle of her exit—a hurried pursuit of the woman. (To be continued in another post.)

**I’m splitting my events into multiple posts and getting something out now because this weekend I’ll be fairly busy with my birthday.