Dancing in the Dark [Alaric]

[Salen]

Glade 17th, 4622

The longing look that Salen brought as he looked back at Tiberius who was travelling off in the distance. The distant sadness longed for him; only to be torn away from a companion once more. However, he had a job to do, find out the inner endings of Dahlia's plans within Amoren; he figured if he needed the information to go against Dahlia in her dealings, for she wasn't powerful without her accomplices of Veir in the works. Whoever they were, it was best he kept a low profile at this moment.

He placed his hood up and walked through the dark city nights until he came towards a bar. A convenient place to stay, for he could get it free if he manipulated the right person. There were many men who would pay for a masculine beauty such as Salen, for he had the looks, the beguile and the charming sense of humor. He smiled, approaching the bar as he made eye contact with the bartender, smirking "An ale, please." He said with a raised eyebrow.

However, the request was ignored; he sighed as he watched the bartender rudely ignore him as if he wasn't there for a moment "Everything ok down here? Are we good?" The patrons of the bar nodded as Salen rolled his eyes, shocked at the amount of disrespect he received "I asked nicely for an ale?" The ignorance continued as Salen's frustration continued, letting out another sigh as he shook his head "Oh, fucking blazers... What's a guy got to suck to get a drink around here." He said, completely showing his frustration even further.

The moment was tense as Salen's charming look turned into a glare, knowing that the bartender was ignoring him on purpose. But why?

[Alaric]

The most important place a traveller could go was the bar. It was a place to rest, a place to refresh, a place to refill. It was local, too — spend enough time haunting the place and even a complete stranger to the land could pick up enough knowledge to at least survive, if not thrive.

The bar was important to Alaric because it was busy. People trickled in and out like sand between the bulbs of an hourglass, always, always flowing as a river. Things happened in bars; people said things, their tongues loosened by drink, and one good word was worth more to the mage than any material riches.

And my, what a time he had chosen to listen in.

The Rien man stepped through the front door like any other. Eschewing any fine cloaks and tailored shirts, he had done his best to look like the kind of person you could find anywhere. His Marks were quietly concealed; a high collar to conceal his Resonance, and his fringe and jewel to conceal his Baptism. Normal, everyday folk didn't tend to have crescent moons on their forehead, and dark lines on their throat after all.

It was business as usual, the background chatter of the bar's patrons filling the place. Business as usual, save for one man. Intriguing, that he would have so much trouble just getting a drink. Dangerous, involving yourself in someone like that so soon. But even still…

It would be impolite to not pluck such an obviously dangling thread.

“An ale for the gentleman, if you'd be so kind,” Alaric said with a flourish of his hand, slipping himself into the scene that was unfolding. “And the same for myself.” The same, to imply companionship, to imply a level playing field. And with that, he settled into the seat next to Salen.

[Salen]

With a raise of an eyebrow, he looked over at the companion that sat next to him; a simple offer of a drink was enough to suffice and quench the thirst of one's goal. However, it seemed that the man had more things on his mind other than a friendly drink. He snickered under his breath as the Rein man had offered him a drink. Instead of a thank you, he nodded to him, rolling his eyes as the only thing he thought a man with such good intentions was actually here for something else.

After all, people were fake.

He deeply sighed as he looked over at the other male "Well, if i've gotta be supervised to get a drink, I might aswell endure this night with companionship" He nodded, rolling his eyes once again as he appeared to be annoyed with the outcome of weakness that he displayed. A sign that he was a damsel in distress in other words. He hated that feeling, detested it to the brim of his bones and yet it served as a way into someone's mindset.

Perhaps being vulnerable was an advantage, knowing he had many ways, many motives to strike up a dealing with the dark forces; the man in front of him seemed like a gentlemen. His demeanour changed from annoyed to curious, feline and somewhat chameleon in nature; a suave gentlemen with a need to help, but also a need for something else.

Information.

After all, information was the key founding of Daravin's political system and if he was going to get it, he'd need to offer something first "So... Since you've decided to generate an act of kindness, perhaps I could offer something in return..." He said, looking the gentlemen straight into his eyes as he crossed his legs amongst the stool.

"Think of it, as an act of kindness on my behalf... It is quite obvious that..." He paused for a moment, before leaning into the male and whispering into his ear "You're not from around here, are you..."

He moved away and smirked, before taking a cigarette from his jacket; the bartender immediately became alarmed "This is a no smoking area..."

"What are you gonna do? Charge me with smoking?" He looked the bartender into his eye, before continuing to light the cigarette and blowing it in his face "Maybe you should put a sign up for that, it might confuse customers..."

[Alaric]

Alaric was never going to pass as a native Daravain. Not at that very moment, at the least. Like everything in that country, if not the world as a whole, it simply came down to information. Gentravese and Raillén were not exactly languages that were easy to pick up in Lorien, and tapping into the Covenant would have earned him debts he'd frankly rather avoid. It was something of a nuisance for the time being, but the longer he spent in this land, the more he'd learn, no strings attached. Not to mention Common was something still regularly spoken. It limited the conversations he could take part in, but at least he wasn't completely crippled.

The drink had served its purpose… more or less. The man seemed annoyed at the charity, even if he didn't reject it, though even that seemed to dissipate soon enough— but thinking like that was almost certainly a mistake. Emotions didn't fizzle out like that, at least not on their own.

“Something like that.” A vague reply to anyone who didn't catch Salen's whispers. The Rien man didn't seem all that bothered about Salen leaning in like that, only offering a raised eyebrow in return.

There was no need to declare his being a foreigner to all and sundry. If the patrons of the bar hadn't noticed, all the better, not that he was particularly counting on it. Right now, they were all nothing more than a backdrop to the stage. Even the bartender had become a prop to fill out the scenery, spouting out charming things about smoking that didn't matter in the slightest.

“Well, it would be rude to not accept after you've said it like that,” Alaric replied as if nothing had happened, eyes locked onto deciphering whatever this stranger was. “Though what exactly do you have in mind?”

He could guess. He had guessed, but he'd rather take an answer than give one himself. Why limit himself in such a way by setting words into stone?

[Salen]

He raised an eyebrow as he blew the smoke, the bar patrons started to get disgruntled "Hmm... Why not go somewhere where eyes and ears cannot be seen around here..." He asked as he tilted his head, taking a sip of his drink and looked to the bartender before channeling his ether, using it to compel him forward; the telekinetic energy from Salen's weave had been slightly noticable but it was ignored by the public eye of the townsman. After all, Salen was only doing that to get his attention, he stared at the man straight into his eyes as it seemed his eyes would linger upon him as Beguiler was activated.

Salen was a crafty and manipulative. He knew how to use his abilities and how to use his charisma to escape a situation that was deemed rather awkward, particularly when he started smoking in the bar "Oh by the way, free drinks on the house for everyone and... Well maybe you might even get a little reward from me, you'll need the extra cash in your pocket, trust me..." His eyes lingered on him for a moment as Beguiler was initiated upon the innocent man. At that point, he rang the bell and smiled gleefully "Free drinks, on the house for tonight!" He would say, only Salen wasn't exactly going to keep his promise.

A bluff. A simple bluff, thats all it was; the man was a fool to trust him and it was prove so when Salen chuckled "By the way, I was lying... Why would a stranger give you a dime of free gold..." He asked, sighing and rolling his eyes as he finished his drink "Think of that as payback for your rude service... Come..." He beckoned Alaric to follow him; his scent trailed as he walked across the room. The fine scent of leather, orange blossom and sandalwood, giving off those sweet and fragrant notes. It had been another drawing feature to follow.

If Alaric would follow, he would be drawn to an inn, located on the outskirts of Amoren. It was somewhere out of the way and completely safe from the likes of spies, assassins and other citymen. However, it was all beginning to look ominous.

Should Alaric trust Salen?

[Alaric]

Alaric's eyes widened — more like Alaric widened his eyes — at the sight of Salen's trick, so freely used in public. Obviously, it was natural here; even an outsider like him knew magic was more than accepted, even worshipped, in Daravin. Still, he was but a humble Rien man. The sight of magic was sure to shock him.

Magic. That meant Salen was somebody. Whether that was somebody of fame or infamy… was still somewhat on the table. As it stood, it didn't look good on that front, right from the very beginning. "Unpopular enough to be refused service" was certainly a strong start, so to speak.

Come? Like some kind of common mutt? Like some lady-in-waiting, some chamberlain at his back and call? The Rien man didn't particularly care about being addressed in such a manner; even if it did ruffle a feather or two, he'd forced himself to get used to it. It was just like watching birds: get too uppity, make too much movement, and they'd all fly away.

Magic, and a haughty enough demeanour to simply demand things. Entente? No. The prospect was cut down the moment it was conceived. Salen was too… exposed to be one of them — wasn't that what they did? Didn't they hide every inch of their skin in a hyperbole of common decency? Besides, the debacle with the bartender surely would have been unthinkable if that were the case. Even if it had been, he must have fallen far; too far to be worthy of the title any more.

Even still, he'd yet to break away. Perhaps it was a misstep, one that would ruin him so early into his stay. He was, however, an 'investigator'; finding out the root cause of all this was part of his job, and a fallen star was a far easier stepping stone to reach than a distant one. Everything was under control. If things became troublesome, he would simply cut away, and buy his way further up with whispers.

“Well, I shan't be going there again if they treat their patrons in such a manner. Why in the world would you be refused service like that?” Alaric decided not to draw attention to how secluded their destination was, though he did make sure to remember the inn.

[Salen]

"Well, it's always likely we may make enemies wherever we go, usually Entente are such snobs, I'm surprised they even let you in. I could tell you were foreign by your clothes, but it would be unwise to engage Entente in any form of wordplay at the moment." He said with a smirk as he pointed out that the Candor was indeed an dangerous subject for a beginner to get into, including a foreign mage that they would take advantage of in order to fit piousness and gracious energy of the Ulendreaistic faith.

He looked out of the window for a while as he smirks "I suppose I could use a little help, since an enemy of my enemy is well indeed a friend?" He said; the door would merely slam causing a fright; however it was just Salen impelling the door to shut with Mentalism; he seemed to be well used to manipulating Ether that it only took a fraction of ease to close the door. However, he needed to save his ether for more complicated matters. He looked at the other male up and down as he tilted his head for a moment "Outsider of Daravin, I think we could become great allies in the future, although I want you to tell me your role in your society back at home, you must have a very important reason for visiting Daravin." He snickered as he tilted his head.

"You do realise people are scared of the megalomania that goes on in these parts, what drew you to this place? Obviously, you'd be barking mad to come here for a vacation; yet, it is better to tell me now... I can find out later, somehow." He tutted as he smirked for a moment, perhaps he was right with all the war and conflict that decentralised Daravin's political infrastructure proved to be much more challenging to deal with as an outsider compared to an Entente citizen. However, there are still scheming mages and trivial plots to counter, that it becomes impossible to know who to trust.

Could Alaric trust Salen?

[Alaric]

There wasn't a single person in all of Daravin that Alaric trusted. He would be an imbecile to. It was a land of blood and bureaucracy, a country where he was barely a person. Every place had its tyrants: in Lorien, the Kindred; in Daravin, the Entente. At least back home, he was someone, with a fortress and status to keep him safe.

Less so here. That was why he danced the dance, why he entertained this stranger who was cast out by a common bar, then acted as if he was the Returning King. He was greater than Alaric, in this land at least. But he was not the highest power here. That was plain as day.

There was a cordial smile plastered on the foreigner's face, all throughout Salen's talk. Complex emotions weaved their way into his lips; decorum, politeness, longing, regret. It was the smile of someone who wished for something, but could not quite close the gap to reach it.

Glamourie was the custom of embodying a person's desires. If this man wanted allies, then Alaric would shift and shape himself into someone who wanted Salen in turn. But there were lines in the sand, lines he would not cross, compromises he would not make.

“Allow me to speak plainly,” The mage said, motioning for Salen to sit down. If he obliged, Alaric would sit down once he has finished talking; otherwise he would continue to stand.

“We are not friends,” The cordial smile gained an apologetic hue. “Not even acquaintances. We are nothing more than friendly strangers — friendly strangers who have managed to wander their way into an inn room, but strangers all the same.”

Alaric shifted an inch closer. Nothing more than an inch.

“I would rather like to be friends, and it would appear you would as well. But you see, friends do not converse with veiled threats. You speak of us possessing a mutual enemy, yet refuse to say what that enemy might be. We do not even know each other's name.”

Pause. The mage's eyes fluttered across Salen's features.

“My name is Alaric. I am a priest of the Pact. No wordplay, no games. Now, if you would be so kind as to indulge me in turn…?”

[Vivian]

Alaric
Lores
Deception: Feigning fear of magic
Deception: 'Mutual' interest
Deception: Sharing as little as possible
Investigation: Finding the most interesting person in the room
Acting: Telling a story with a smile
Negotiation: Drawing lines in the sand
Persuasion: A good deed to curry favour
Spycraft: Finding a discrete location
Loot: N/A
Injuries: N/A
Points: 8
Comments: Good on you being suspicious Alaric, you'll do well in Amoren! Loved reading your posts!

Salen
Lores
Mentalism: Compel: Pulling an object towards you
Mentalism: Compel: Pulling a person slightly towards you
Mentalism: Impel: Slamming a door shut.
Mentalism: Compel: Can be used inverse with Impel
Mentalism: The Weave: Can be manipulated with Impel and Compel.
Mentalism: The Weave: The Founding Concept for Mentalists moving Objects.
Spycraft: Finding a discrete location
Spycraft: Speaking in code.
Loot: N/A
Injuries: N/A
Points: 8 (4 for magic)
Comments: A great little thread! I look forward to reading more from you two in the future!