Roots of Sin: Sow [Memory]
Posted: Tue Mar 01, 2022 5:24 pm
TIMESTAMP: 12th of Glacial Dusk, 4581 / 08:32
NOTES: Part 1 of 2; Flowers of Evil: Reap
NOTES: Part 1 of 2; Flowers of Evil: Reap
► Show Spoiler
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Though it was still early in the morning, Averre was idly organizing some small amounts of various objects on a shelf. The man’s dark, inky hair was tied back into a tight braid that he wore over his shoulder. Standard for him, he was wearing black, shadowy robes that appeared to almost absorb light. The mage heard a delicate knock on the door of his business and barely had time to turn his head when said door was pushed open, revealing an elegantly dressed woman with face shrouded by a hood. From what of her face he could see, it was apparent that she was well put together and taken care of. Either by her own hands or servants, it was impossible to tell, but she definitely cared about her appearance. Another thing that was obvious to him from her appearance is that she was most definitely a member of the Daravinic Entente, and to him, that meant money. A lot of it, potentially. The raven haired mage makes elegant strides over to this sparkly new potential patron in order to greet her. When he got close enough, he also picked up on the rather noticeable scent of roses and other botanicals that seemed to radiate off of her. How fitting! “Welcome! What brings you to my door today…?” His face was placid and voice pleasant; a way he would talk and emote specifically for customers. The woman’s expression remained cold, though her voice was amicable enough when she replied. “My request might come across as a bit different compared to your more usual fare, but I know who you are, what you are capable of, and myriad other details– so don’t play dumb.”
Averre blinks at the abrasive nature of the words she spoke before narrowing his eyes just slightly, “And what request would this be, then, pray tell? I am happy to accommodate anything, should I be able– and of course, for the right price.” He speaks with the same tone as he did before, not letting her veiled threats get to him. The woman appears to look around the room to see if there was anyone else present, and when apparently satisfied, she speaks once more, “Your mark. I have need of one.” These words were stated in a flat, matter-of-fact manner. The man’s golden eyes widen briefly in surprise, blinking to neutralize his face once more. “Oh? Is that so?” The mage chuckles lightly before he continues, seeing irritation begin to draw itself across the woman’s painted lips. “I could do that…but…I raise an offer to you. Don’t worry– you’ll get the mark you desire in the end, just listen.” His voice was smooth and confident, deep and sweet, as if glazed in honey.
The woman arcs a brow, arms crossed over her chest now as she taps her foot in an impatient indication for the man to continue. “There’s a man studying under me, also a Ferrier. I’ve been teaching him myself for years now, so I will happily vouch for his…” he trails off, gesticulating languidly as he thinks, “...quality.” He allows his arm to drop to rest on his hip, “My proposition is thus: Allow him to mark you. I will oversee everything of course, but he’s never given anyone a mark and I think this would be a lovely opportunity, no? Not many people come with a request like this, as you are apparently well aware.” He finishes speaking with a fairly broad grin across his face.
The woman sighs, “Can’t you just do it? Wouldn’t it be quicker? I came to you because you’re the best, not for your student.” There is some small modicum of poison in her words. Averre pretends not to notice and continues sweetly, “If he does anything wrong I will step in. Please…just trust me on this, since I am the master on this subject, after all,” he trills in amusement, “...but really. I wouldn’t have stated this if I didn’t think he would perform well. I can be a strict teacher when I have to be, and I want nothing more than for his success– he will do well. Plus, if you let him do it, it’ll cost a lot less,” he offers to her, his tone playful yet calm. Much as the mage wanted money, he was successful so his apparent need was not actually that high. The desire for more is nothing besides simple greed on his end. She sighs, again, this time louder. “I suppose we shall have it your way in this regard, provided I get what I want,” her voice is curt. “When can this be done? If you can’t bring your little pet in to perform it today, then you must do it.” Her words are forceful, and Averre can tell that she was hoping that the other man would not be in.
He smiles kindly at her, “You’re in luck! We can start any time you’d like, just please wait here. I will go get him.” He turns away with a fairly dramatic way of moving, something akin to a twirl. His steps are light despite his somewhat stocky build as he moves towards a door in the back of the room. The woman he left behind shakes her head in annoyance but nonetheless stays put, eyes scanning the room and its various wares. Despite it being mid morning and fairly bright outside, her eyes were beginning to adjust to just how dimly lit the room was. The windows were blocked by thick velvet curtains and the candles that lit it from within were fairly sparse, giving a quiet, solemn atmosphere.
Averre climbed the steps to the upper floor of the building. He lived here, the bottom two floors were for his business. With swift strides he walks through the living area and swings the door to his bedchamber open, swinging it into the wall with a loud clamor. This sound causes the man who had been sleeping soundly in the bed to jolt awake, a dazed and confused expression on his face as he brings one hand up to his forehead. He stares blankly at nothing in particular for a few moments before amber eyes snap to the figure in the doorway. “Yes…?” the sleepy one asks in a confused, tired voice. “I need your help!” He exclaims this with a bright smile and cheery disposition. Continuing, “A woman of your social class came in, she wants a mark of control. A new Ferrier will be born today!” He twirls from the threshold of the room in the direction of the bed. “How does this involve me?” Degare asks, voice still groggy from having just woken up. Ever and more excited, “You will give it to her, my darling. Isn’t that wonderful? Your very first initiation!” Averre exclaims as he nears the bed, planting himself beside his lover and kissing his cheek. “I…what? When?” Questions asked without protest, but voice weighed in confusion. “Now! Well, when you get ready, love. I’ll go tend to her in the meantime, but she doesn’t come across as the most patient of women, so do your best to hurry up~!” the man nearly sings this as he gets up to leave.
Degare sighs a little as he watches his partner skip out of the room. He wasn’t displeased with this request at all, just a fair bit overwhelmed that the man had just kicked the door open and sprang it on him so early in the morning. The elf was known to be a late riser. Though his limbs were heavy, he managed to drag himself out of the bed on legs still a little bit unsteady. He stares around the dimly lit room and blinks a few times, trying to remember where he had thrown the clothes he intended to wear that day. His movements are languid and slow, though he tries to move a bit faster on this day; he struggles to increase his pace so soon after waking up for the day. Having arrived at the little pile he’d left over on the floor, he bends down to grab hold of the robe that he’d brought. Long, graceful fingers hook into the rich fabric as he begins to dress himself. Having put everything on, he takes a few more moments to stretch his limbs and spine. The pale elf moves to the doorway now and makes his way slowly to the top of the stairs leading down into the funeral home below. Before descending, he takes a moment to stop and slip on his shoes.
Meanwhile, Averre had very quickly darted back downstairs, not wanting to leave his guest down there for very long by herself. He swung the door open and she had barely moved, almost to his surprise. What did not surprise him, however, was the expression of displeasure that had now adorned her face. “Ah, sorry for any wait that will occur. I told him you’re here and what must be done, so now we both must wait a few more moments for him to get himself ready and make his way down here, alright?” He grants her a bright, encouraging smile. She sighs a little, “Well, is there anything else that must be done in preparation that we– as in, you– can do in the meantime?” She asks with a curt tone, irritation present in her voice as well. The master Ferrier gives her a short bow, “Ah! Not really, actually. Most of the ritual is on you, all my dear protege has to do is draw the mark upon your preferred body part with special pathos. No special tools or implements required, really…” he trails off at the end, then continues as if he’d forgotten something. “Ah! We might as well go downstairs, though. The ritual can be a bit messy at the end, and it’s a bit easier to clean up down there, in my opinion.” He swivels around on his heels after giving her a beckoning gesture. There is a different door near the one he’d gone into originally, and this time he takes the second one, leaving it open for his patron to follow.
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Though it was still early in the morning, Averre was idly organizing some small amounts of various objects on a shelf. The man’s dark, inky hair was tied back into a tight braid that he wore over his shoulder. Standard for him, he was wearing black, shadowy robes that appeared to almost absorb light. The mage heard a delicate knock on the door of his business and barely had time to turn his head when said door was pushed open, revealing an elegantly dressed woman with face shrouded by a hood. From what of her face he could see, it was apparent that she was well put together and taken care of. Either by her own hands or servants, it was impossible to tell, but she definitely cared about her appearance. Another thing that was obvious to him from her appearance is that she was most definitely a member of the Daravinic Entente, and to him, that meant money. A lot of it, potentially. The raven haired mage makes elegant strides over to this sparkly new potential patron in order to greet her. When he got close enough, he also picked up on the rather noticeable scent of roses and other botanicals that seemed to radiate off of her. How fitting! “Welcome! What brings you to my door today…?” His face was placid and voice pleasant; a way he would talk and emote specifically for customers. The woman’s expression remained cold, though her voice was amicable enough when she replied. “My request might come across as a bit different compared to your more usual fare, but I know who you are, what you are capable of, and myriad other details– so don’t play dumb.”
Averre blinks at the abrasive nature of the words she spoke before narrowing his eyes just slightly, “And what request would this be, then, pray tell? I am happy to accommodate anything, should I be able– and of course, for the right price.” He speaks with the same tone as he did before, not letting her veiled threats get to him. The woman appears to look around the room to see if there was anyone else present, and when apparently satisfied, she speaks once more, “Your mark. I have need of one.” These words were stated in a flat, matter-of-fact manner. The man’s golden eyes widen briefly in surprise, blinking to neutralize his face once more. “Oh? Is that so?” The mage chuckles lightly before he continues, seeing irritation begin to draw itself across the woman’s painted lips. “I could do that…but…I raise an offer to you. Don’t worry– you’ll get the mark you desire in the end, just listen.” His voice was smooth and confident, deep and sweet, as if glazed in honey.
The woman arcs a brow, arms crossed over her chest now as she taps her foot in an impatient indication for the man to continue. “There’s a man studying under me, also a Ferrier. I’ve been teaching him myself for years now, so I will happily vouch for his…” he trails off, gesticulating languidly as he thinks, “...quality.” He allows his arm to drop to rest on his hip, “My proposition is thus: Allow him to mark you. I will oversee everything of course, but he’s never given anyone a mark and I think this would be a lovely opportunity, no? Not many people come with a request like this, as you are apparently well aware.” He finishes speaking with a fairly broad grin across his face.
The woman sighs, “Can’t you just do it? Wouldn’t it be quicker? I came to you because you’re the best, not for your student.” There is some small modicum of poison in her words. Averre pretends not to notice and continues sweetly, “If he does anything wrong I will step in. Please…just trust me on this, since I am the master on this subject, after all,” he trills in amusement, “...but really. I wouldn’t have stated this if I didn’t think he would perform well. I can be a strict teacher when I have to be, and I want nothing more than for his success– he will do well. Plus, if you let him do it, it’ll cost a lot less,” he offers to her, his tone playful yet calm. Much as the mage wanted money, he was successful so his apparent need was not actually that high. The desire for more is nothing besides simple greed on his end. She sighs, again, this time louder. “I suppose we shall have it your way in this regard, provided I get what I want,” her voice is curt. “When can this be done? If you can’t bring your little pet in to perform it today, then you must do it.” Her words are forceful, and Averre can tell that she was hoping that the other man would not be in.
He smiles kindly at her, “You’re in luck! We can start any time you’d like, just please wait here. I will go get him.” He turns away with a fairly dramatic way of moving, something akin to a twirl. His steps are light despite his somewhat stocky build as he moves towards a door in the back of the room. The woman he left behind shakes her head in annoyance but nonetheless stays put, eyes scanning the room and its various wares. Despite it being mid morning and fairly bright outside, her eyes were beginning to adjust to just how dimly lit the room was. The windows were blocked by thick velvet curtains and the candles that lit it from within were fairly sparse, giving a quiet, solemn atmosphere.
Averre climbed the steps to the upper floor of the building. He lived here, the bottom two floors were for his business. With swift strides he walks through the living area and swings the door to his bedchamber open, swinging it into the wall with a loud clamor. This sound causes the man who had been sleeping soundly in the bed to jolt awake, a dazed and confused expression on his face as he brings one hand up to his forehead. He stares blankly at nothing in particular for a few moments before amber eyes snap to the figure in the doorway. “Yes…?” the sleepy one asks in a confused, tired voice. “I need your help!” He exclaims this with a bright smile and cheery disposition. Continuing, “A woman of your social class came in, she wants a mark of control. A new Ferrier will be born today!” He twirls from the threshold of the room in the direction of the bed. “How does this involve me?” Degare asks, voice still groggy from having just woken up. Ever and more excited, “You will give it to her, my darling. Isn’t that wonderful? Your very first initiation!” Averre exclaims as he nears the bed, planting himself beside his lover and kissing his cheek. “I…what? When?” Questions asked without protest, but voice weighed in confusion. “Now! Well, when you get ready, love. I’ll go tend to her in the meantime, but she doesn’t come across as the most patient of women, so do your best to hurry up~!” the man nearly sings this as he gets up to leave.
Degare sighs a little as he watches his partner skip out of the room. He wasn’t displeased with this request at all, just a fair bit overwhelmed that the man had just kicked the door open and sprang it on him so early in the morning. The elf was known to be a late riser. Though his limbs were heavy, he managed to drag himself out of the bed on legs still a little bit unsteady. He stares around the dimly lit room and blinks a few times, trying to remember where he had thrown the clothes he intended to wear that day. His movements are languid and slow, though he tries to move a bit faster on this day; he struggles to increase his pace so soon after waking up for the day. Having arrived at the little pile he’d left over on the floor, he bends down to grab hold of the robe that he’d brought. Long, graceful fingers hook into the rich fabric as he begins to dress himself. Having put everything on, he takes a few more moments to stretch his limbs and spine. The pale elf moves to the doorway now and makes his way slowly to the top of the stairs leading down into the funeral home below. Before descending, he takes a moment to stop and slip on his shoes.
Meanwhile, Averre had very quickly darted back downstairs, not wanting to leave his guest down there for very long by herself. He swung the door open and she had barely moved, almost to his surprise. What did not surprise him, however, was the expression of displeasure that had now adorned her face. “Ah, sorry for any wait that will occur. I told him you’re here and what must be done, so now we both must wait a few more moments for him to get himself ready and make his way down here, alright?” He grants her a bright, encouraging smile. She sighs a little, “Well, is there anything else that must be done in preparation that we– as in, you– can do in the meantime?” She asks with a curt tone, irritation present in her voice as well. The master Ferrier gives her a short bow, “Ah! Not really, actually. Most of the ritual is on you, all my dear protege has to do is draw the mark upon your preferred body part with special pathos. No special tools or implements required, really…” he trails off at the end, then continues as if he’d forgotten something. “Ah! We might as well go downstairs, though. The ritual can be a bit messy at the end, and it’s a bit easier to clean up down there, in my opinion.” He swivels around on his heels after giving her a beckoning gesture. There is a different door near the one he’d gone into originally, and this time he takes the second one, leaving it open for his patron to follow.
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'Thoughts'
"Common Tongue/Speech"
"Raillen Tongue/Speech"
