debonairmonk (debonairmonk) wrote in emillion, @ 2014-04-14 20:51:00 |
|
|||
Who: Ari, Aspel, & Drake (guest appearances by Bram, Mag, Mathieu, Merri, Peony, Reinholdt, & Toku)
What: Scavenger hunting~
Where: All over town!
When: All festival long!
Rating: Basically tame!
Status: Complete!
He’d already had to be up early in order to walk in the parade - which no one had told him about and everyone had just assumed he’d known - so it was easy to run over to the Cathedral and pick up a booklet of festival activities. They were on the table, usually reserved for church activity sign ups, and so he pocketed one, looking around to see if he could spot Lex. This was how they’d met, after all. When he’d been doing the scavenger hunt with Chloe and had needed to grab one. He smiled, remembering her slightly wary demeanor. (He tried not to think about Chloe and how different things had been a year ago. Or how Cormac had gouged him on healing his leg before he’d hobbled up the steps.) But it didn’t seem like she was around. He’d have to find her sometime over the weekend, maybe win her a stuffed toy or something. He grinned, thinking of Ric trying to one up him. Definitely a stuffed plush in Lex’s future. Whistling, he left the Cathedral. Getting up early for the parade was a bit of a pain, but Ari had done her part, smiling and waving from beside the other cast members. The embellished silken robe she wore was surely the most impractical thing anyone had worn into battle since the Warrior Queen and her bright pink teatowel, but it certainly made an impression, even if it was rather hot under all the layers. At least the contraption she was meant to use for casting was back in the prop room -- it wasn’t needed for the parade. Without it, the robe almost felt light. Still, she was quite ready to get out of the thing -- though as everyone was starting to disperse at the end of the parade route, she spotted Drake at the edge of the crowd of people dressed in robes not so terribly different from hers (if not quite as heavy with embroidery and paste gems) and remembered that she could probably get at least one thing out of the way. Sadly, Drake seemed to have engaged Merri in conversation already, but she did spot an older man with a commanding presence with whom one of them also needed to speak -- it might as well be her, she supposed. Making her way through the crowd, she smiled charmingly from inside the cowl of her robe. “Hello, councilor.” At once, Toku offered a polite bow of the head. He had seen the bard during the parade, but had not expected to talk to her―with the Founders’ Play around the corner, she would no doubt be busy, and he had no intention of imposing upon her. “Good day, Miss Chiaro,” he said. Her outfit was remarkably different from the one she had worn during their last conversation; with a small smile, he added, “I see you are in the guise of our illustrious Founder Vadril Rhavanni.” “I must hope that your illustrious founder wasn’t quite so… flamboyant in everyday dress,” Ari replied readily. “Still, you have guessed correctly -- it seems our costumers have indeed done their job.” Still smiling, she cut directly to the topic of interest: “I am quite glad to have caught you, actually. I’m wondering if you might be willing to do me a small favor? It will take but a moment of your time.” Fortunately, she’d had the wherewithal to tuck pen and paper into one of the many pockets of the robe worn beneath the top layer of embellished silk. They were meant for props, but she had always been skilled at improvisation, and they had served her well this morning. “Would you sign this for me, please?” she asked. He blinked at the pen and paper being held out to him, took them only to give himself time to articulate an appropriate response. “I,” he said, slowly, “believe we are doing this the wrong way around. I should perhaps be the one asking for your autograph, Miss Chiaro.” It was a simple enough request, however confusing, and so he signed the paper as he had been asked, lest she think her request had irked him in some way. Below the Valendian transcription, he signed his name in the characters of his homeland, and returned the paper to Arielle. “Here you are. I hope that will suffice” Ari laughed and said, “For this one particular occasion, I think this is the correct way to go about it. But if ever you would like my autograph, councilor, you have only to ask.” She tucked the paper away, considering this a job well done -- and before eleven in the morning! “I shall keep it in mind,” Toku said. “Best of luck for your performance tomorrow. I am looking forward to it.” With those words, he excused himself. He had seen Peony nearby―perhaps, if she had not yet gone to see her brothers, she might be able to explain to him what had just happened. The parade wasn’t as horrible as he’d feared - still not something he really wanted to do, but he’d survived, and now that it was over, he wouldn’t have to do it again until next year. The horrible part about it, unfortunately, was getting mobbed by enthusiastic scavenger hunters, all clamoring for the signature of the Councilors. He’d managed to slip away - Bram and Aspel had magically disappeared before the onslaught - and ran right into Merri, who looked far too cheerful for having just walked in a parade that was all about showing them off. Normally, he’d say hi and chat just because he liked Merri. Today, though, he was supposedly a scavenger hunter - one item was already in his pocket and everything. So he withdrew the piece of paper that already had the Sage’s signature and held it out to his friend. “Hey. Sign this.” He grinned. “Also: hi. Having fun yet?” “Drake!” Merri turned and smiled brightly at his friend. He happily took the piece of paper, knowing exactly what it was for; he didn’t mind being asked for it at all. Being part of the scavenger hunt like this thrilled him in a way he was too embarrassed to admit to, and he was happy to help out Drake. He quickly signed the paper and handed it back to him. “Here,” he said. “And I am! Having fun, that is. Are you?” And it was the truth. He always loved watching the parade, and he still couldn’t believe that it was his third year in a row being in it. “I’m still alive, and the mob only stole a piece of my soul, so I guess I’m not too bad,” he joked, pocketing the piece of paper. The first of the exhibition matches were going to start soon, and he needed to get to where they were being hosted. Which meant he didn’t have time to change into something less embarrassing than the traditional monk class garb. He clasped Merri’s shoulder and grinned. “We’ll have to catch up soon,” he told his friend. “I’ve got to get to the exhibition matches, though. Why did I sign up for Council again?” The monk shook his head. “See you around?” “I’ll see you!” said Merri. “And I’ll be at the exhibition in a couple of days to cheer you on!” With that final promise, the two parted ways. "Pardon." The singular word was polite, cheery even to some degree as Aspel approached the man in the rather appalling waistcoat before he could slip away from the Parade. The infamous Duke Reinholdt she'd heard Vivi talk about so many times before. "Might I have but a moment of your time?" "What a wondrous and exciting event!" Reinholdt couldn't help but respond when finally faced with - what was probably - Genevieve's best friend that he was aware of. This particular counselor was a curious thing, carrying on with a Bard's guild member, a Fighter's guild Councilor, having taken up so well with Countess Albrecht, and owning a shop that sold weaponry to - what he assumed - anyone who could pay the right price. "Please pardon my peculiar parlance, but I assure a phenomenal parlay. Now! Come, come! What chance challenge and surprise shall you offer?" "Ah," Honestly, precisely what he'd said, Aspel wasn't entirely certain of, however, he had asked her what she wanted… More or less… From what she could gather. "I have two things I wish to ask if you would be willing to indigo such request?" "Two? Ohoho~!" His smile brightened. "A bountiful blessing is for what you ask?" "Of a sort." "What wonders do you specifically seek?" "Ah," A gentle beginning, a soft smile of her own returned at the man's exuberance of speech. "An item, and a signature. Both in request for sake of a game. The scavenger hunt if you may." With that, a low chuckle was earned, Aspel offering up a piece of parchment, and quill for Reinholdt to sign with, and Reinholt pulling out a small vial, his personal crest hanging from it, and offering it over to her while taking the paper and scribbling out his name. The end of the interaction would earn a bowing of her head, and a smile from him. "A pleasure meeting you, Duke Reinholdt." "And an astounding same to you Miss Cassul." The festival sales on fine mead were a blessing with the rate Aspel had worked her way through many of the bottles she'd received during Faram's Mass already. Really, if she were wise, and took into consideration her drinking habits as of late, perhaps it would actually be best to stock up considerably before going home. However, in a move of attempting to not make herself look like a complete alcoholic, the smith had picked up only a couple bottles of mead from one of the vendors promoting a sale at this time. Undoubtedly, both bottles would be gone before the end of the second night of the festival but… No one had to be any the wiser to that. Besides, all she needed to assure was that one was empty, and that a handle was kept on the receipt. With her purchase, and the receipt in hand she headed for home. It would be curious if this vintage was any good. If it was, perhaps she'd send for a case to be delivered to her place before the end of festival. It was a wise move to stock up on… Needed items when at a discount… No? “I must admit,” Ari murmured, “I haven’t the faintest idea what that is supposed to do.” The contraption was an utter mystery to her, as were many of the items on display this afternoon. Still, it had been a rather interesting outing all in all, more so than she had expected it to be in truth. Aspel’s company certainly aided with that. So much so, in fact, that she had been rather too occupied with her companion when the winners had been announced… Still, this thing (whatever it happened to be) had a blue ribbon affixed to it, and that was good enough for her. “Want to pose with it?” she suggested. “I’ll immortalize you for posterity.” “Nor have I.” Aspel easily confessed though a twinge of frustration zipped through her. Not being able to figure something out, even something as simple and silly as this, was still endlessly frustrating to her. A light chuckle was given to Ari’s suggestion. “I never have been much of the posing sort.” Her smile was soft. “Would you care to? You always have been much more of the spotlight sort than I.” “Oh,” Ari said, tone teasing, “if I must.” But considering how easily she posed, grinning, with the mysterious contraption as the picture was taken, it did rather seem as though she didn’t mind too much. The streets always did come alive when Founder’s began, and for the duration of the entire event. This particular area - the place which games and rides had been hosted - was no exception of course. In fact, Aspel may just wager it was possibly the most busy of the entire city at this point. Which wasn’t bad in and of itself, but it could be rather annoying. Such annoyance had worked its way into the smith’s mind quite well as she’d had to stand in line for a solid half hour to obtain the sought after ride ticket to assist with scavenger hunt Ari had talked both herself and Drake into. However, with that out of the way, it was simply a matter of meeting up with both of them, and seeing the rest of their evening through. Her annoyance was still tweaked, and Aspel attempted to shove it down once finally coming upon her teammates for the night. “Good day.” A slight bow of her head was offered with the words to the both of them. “I do believe this is one of the items sought, no?” With that, the ticket was held up. “Now shall we pursue the other?” A hand shifted out, gesturing towards the game booths. Hopefully, this wouldn’t take too long. Aspel sincerely didn’t feel she had the patience for it. Drake grinned. “I bet I can win a prize faster than you this time.” He’d lost - miserably - last time, but he had a good feeling about today. Plus, there was a stuffed chocobo with a helmet that had Aspel’s name on it. If they both won something, one could be handed over, and he could give the chocobo to Aspel. “How about that one over there?” He pointed to a game that appeared to be tossing a ball into a raised hoop. “Ah,” Ari said, “my favorite part of any festival -- watching you throw things for the sake of stuffed animals while I stand aside and eat cotton candy. Or at least,” she added, “that is my intent, provided I can find some around here somewhere. Surely it shouldn’t be difficult.” What was a carnival without spun sugar, after all? As she eyed the game Drake had chosen (utterly impossible by her estimation, but then, this was why no one was challenging her), she said. “What do you think, Aspel? Will you defend your title this afternoon, or relinquish it?” “Ah,” This was not her day, clearly, as everything just seemed to be rubbing her the wrong way in this crowd, even the - she knew - for fun prodding coming from both Ari and Drake. “I would be curious to see if Drake could manage to win one on his own, or if perhaps he is only capable of surmounting simple games when he feels threatened of a sort.” A beat. “However, I would loathe to see him make a fool of himself.” With that she turned with quirked eyebrow to face Drake. “It would be a pity so early on, no?” “You challenge my honor, my lady,” Drake declared, but he was grinning. “I can do it.” He turned and started to push his way through the crowd towards the game stand. When he got there and the overseer told him it was five gil for three shots, he grimaced, but forked over the money. The first ball hit the rim and bounced off. Drake frowned, grabbing the next ball. For a few seconds, he spun it around and tossed it back and forth between his hands. Then he took the shot, which went effortlessly into the hoop. The frown was replaced with a grin as he took the last ball, lobbing it through the air and watching it sink into the hoop. The overseer clapped and Drake picked out his prize - a tonberry plush with an angel’s costume - and plopped down another five gil. Now, to get Aspel the chocobo. “I didn’t even get the opportunity to step away for my sugar,” Ari chided, but she was smiling as Drake claimed his (utterly ridiculous) prize. “You are too quick for me.” She stepped up alongside Aspel, placed a light kiss on her cheek. She looked tired, Ari thought, but this wasn’t the time nor the place to mention -- and perhaps this silly pastime would cheer her up (or perhaps something else would be required later -- she’d find a way). “Can you make three?” she asked the other woman. It seemed a surmountable challenge. “Three?” Aspel clearly had no idea what Ari was talking about with furrowed brows, and her face twisted up in confusion for the moment. Was there something she’d missed? Drake ignored the women and took the first shot, which circled the rim but went in. The next one missed and he frowned, but managed to sink the third one. He pointed to the chocobo with a helmet and walked away from the stand, triumphantly presenting it to Aspel. “Here you go.” The confused look was turned from Ari to Drake as he approached, seemingly offering out a…. Toy of sorts. Her bafflement only increased, the look remaining similar to the one she’d given the bard just seconds before. “Pardon?” “Three baskets,” Ari said. “And I believe the chocobo is for you, darling.” She examined it for a moment and said, “It is rather cute, actually. Very nice helmet.” Drake shook the toy back and forth for a moment before shrugging. “My revenge for the cactuar.” He shoved it with the tonberry under his arm and wrapped his free arm around Aspel’s shoulders. “Now let’s get out of here.” It was the most obvious time to grab it - he was there, he was watching, and once the exhibition matches were done, all he had to do was jump down and pick up some discarded piece of broken armor. He could have left it to Aspel, but he’d offered, and it wasn’t like it was a hardship. All he had to do was wait. And wait. Why didn’t anyone seem to be hitting hard today? (Well, they were, just not hard enough for Drake’s liking.) Artur - a Holy Knight - and Lyssandra - a Fell Knight - entered the field and Drake grinned. He tried to stay out of gossip, but he happened to know that these two had just broken up over Lyssie’s new choice of class. And if the way they were looking at each other now was any indication, there’d be plenty of broken armor to choose from. Sure enough, once they’d been pulled from the grounds, both bleeding and still glaring, there were pieces of Lyssie’s and Art’s armor - along with the broken off tip of Art’s sword - littering the area. With a grin, he walked into the exhibition arena and started helping the squires clear the debris. He pocketed the broken tip of Art’s sword and followed the squires out. "An item of interest." Aspel murmured to herself, brow furrowing as hands shifted through a small selection of items. How were they to know what would be considered 'of interest'. This whole thing seemed a blasted mess really. A frown pulled at her lips absently for a moment before the smith's gaze rose. Perhaps, she wasn't thinking this through well enough, maybe she hadn't approached it just right, maybe…. That's when it caught her eye. "Pardon." Aspel stepped up to the vendor, a hand moving to gesture towards an odd stone that seemed to be changing color with each passing second of time. "How much would you request for that?" The vendor paused, looking a bit puzzled at first before noting what was being gestured for, and releasing a short laugh. "You want that?" "I suspect it shall depend upon what it does, and how much gil you will ask." A soft smile was offered to the man. "It changes colors lass, and that's all. Not useful aside from being something pretty to look at." "Ah, I see." A pause. "And the cost?" The man gave a low hum of consideration. "I suspect I could let you take it off my hands for twenty gil if it interests you like that." "Then I do believe, we have a deal." A soft smile was offered as Apsel fetched the gil, and handed it over to the man. Now it was only a matter of getting this over to the infamous Edgar Chere, and at least this part would be done. They’d ended up getting a pretty decent spot to watch the fireworks. He usually watched them from home - his new place had a great view of them - but he’d gone with them for both the Festival of Lions and New Year’s, so even though he was tired, he let them talk him into it. He’d held both of their hands as the colored explosions lit the air, occasionally glancing to either side to watch Aspel’s and Ari’s faces light up. Once the show was over, it was time to hunt down the tube. “Come on,” he said, squeezing their hands. “Let’s go find one.” “I think,” Ari said, squeezing back, “that they usually set up over there.” She pointed in the proper direction, tugging on the hand she held to encourage Drake to start walking. “We should probably hurry before someone else gets the same idea.” With a sigh, she added, “I should have thought of trading one of the techies for it. Surely at least one of them’s involved. I don’t know any mages well aside from Merri and, well.” Somehow, she didn’t think anyone would let him near fireworks. “As you wish.” Aspel’s day had been a rather full one, and honestly, at this point, she was more tired than anything else. It was unfortunate almost considering if she got drunk enough what the evening could potentially hold…. But that only made her want to groan. The bottles of mead at home would have to wait as it would seem they were required to complete another task of sorts. While the idea was fun in many ways, the extensive list of items, and all the work they were going to require left her feeling a little less than thrilled at this point. “If not there, perhaps in that direction?” A tired, languid gestured was made towards the area above where the fireworks had mostly gone off. She wasn’t really sure how fireworks worked precisely, but if they worked like bullets, surely the area would have to be littered with not even half way through the event. Drake was content to let himself be pulled along - he had no clue where the fireworks were set off, and he knew Merri wasn’t allowed near them. “Whichever way so long as we make it quick.” He yawned. If he thought there’d still be some the next morning, he’d have suggested meeting up with them in the morning, but last year’s adventures had prepared him well for this year. “Just tell me where we’re going.” “Let us attempt there first.” Aspel passively gestured towards where Ari had pointed out. “If that is not suitable, then we can start searching the…. area.” Really, she had wanted to say fields but… The city was hardly a place for that at all. Obviously, all of the running around of the day had gotten to her more than she thought. “Let’s go, then,” Ari said. “Clearly, we ought to get you two to bed as soon as possible.” Fortunately, they only had to wander for a quarter hour before coming upon the first burnt tube lying upon the ground. Perhaps Ari was alone in thinking she might have liked to wander the dark streets with them a bit longer, but… Well, another idea to put away for a less hectic day. "Good morn." A slight bow of her head was offered to Councilor Min as she approached after this morning's mass. "A rousing sermon, no?" With that, a soft smile was offered the other woman. It was common enough for them to exchange basic small talk between their mutual work with the orphanages, and the ladies who lunched yet still, Aspel felt somewhat bad for having alternative motives this morning regardless of herself. Peony turned and offered a smile to the other woman. “Indeed. It was quite thought-provoking.” Festival days often made for interesting fare from the pulpit; Peony supposed this was due to the fact that people might wander into the cathedral who mightn’t come otherwise. Still, at this early morning mass, she saw mostly familiar faces -- including that of the woman who had addressed her. “I hope you are well?” she asked. “It has been some time since we have had a chance to speak.” “It has.” Aspel confirmed, her smile easy. “I have been well, and I pray you are the same?” The other councilor had always been a positively contributing member of Emillion, someone Aspel - admittedly - was proud to know. Even if it was only in passing. “Quite well, thank you,” Peony said. Then, as realization dawned, she asked, a small smile playing across her lips, “Might I, perhaps, assist you with something this morning?” She had been approached by many since the dawn of the festival’s first morning, and somehow, it did seem as though Aspel might be the sort to engage in a harmless game of this nature. “I am glad to hear such.” And just as Aspel was considering how to approach the subject, thinking of the various ways to work around it, Peony cut right to the chase. A bit of a sheepish smile rose, clearly having been caught. “Ah, well.” Her head nodded briefly to one side. “I must admit a bit of alternative reasoning other than a desire to discuss the next ladies who lunch meeting.” Another pause as she considered for a moment. “I must wonder if I could perhaps bother you for a signature or two?” Clearly, Peony did not find the request offensive in the least as she only smiled as she took up the offered paper and said, “I had best give you two, if you are asking. Mine will fulfill a dual purpose.” "And the classes you have available in the coming term?" A curious brow rose at the woman situated at the help desk to the Preparatory Academy. "We have a wide selection of courses offered varying from scientific to religious. Do you have a particular type of course you're looking for Ms. Cassul?" "Ah, I fear I do not. Are there any in particular you would recommend?" "Oh, well, there's all sorts I could recommend! But it'll depend on your interests if you'll be able to see something like the rigorous coursework here through." With that, a booklet was snatched up, and slide across the counter. "Why don't you take some time, look over what we have available and come back to discuss with me any questions you have? I can set us up an appoint if you'd like." Smiling, Aspel easily took up the book, thumbing through a few of the pages absently. "Yes, thank you. I believe this shall do just fine." Between the three Fighter’s Guild Councilors, there were always at least two present at each exhibition match. Today, it was Drake and Bram - Aspel was competing later in the day, and Drake knew that she was off making whatever preparations she needed to make. He’d always enjoyed watching the berserker versus sentinel fights, but he couldn’t help the little nagging worry in the back of his head. Aspel was a grown woman, but he was also starting to learn that she was a reckless woman. Still, it wasn’t his place to say anything. All he had to do was sit here and cheer her on. And get Bram’s signature, which was a far more harmless thing to worry about than whether or not Aspel was going to come away from the exhibition bleeding and broken. He turned to Bram and grinned. “Having fun?” “Hmm” was the only response at first, a thoughtful grumble in the back of Bram’s throat from where he sat beside his colleague. Despite the festivities blossoming around him, he looked more like someone supervising an exam: severe and thoughtful, carefully watching and assessing the capabilities of the fighters on display. This was the best opportunity to gauge their over-large guild en masse, sussing out their members’ potential and understanding where to allocate better training or promotion possibilities. Accordingly, he didn’t seem like he was having very much fun at all, though he did finally turn to look at Drake. “It’s fine enough. Participating in tomorrow’s monk exhibition?” “As always,” Drake replied promptly. “Tag teaming Karras with Aspel and Bob, too. I figure if I’m broken, no one can make me go to the ball. And maybe the scavenger hunters will take pity on me.” His grin widened. “Speaking of the scavenger hunt, can I get your autograph?” “You’re doing this too?” The skepticism was apparent in Bram’s voice—he didn’t hold much truck with scavenger hunts, evidently, and had been bombarded with a few too many eager participants already. But rather than fight the request, he found an old pen in his inner coat pocket. “Fine, let’s have at it,” Bram said. But for those who’d worked with him for the past year, the tone was easy enough to read: this was his usual low-grade surliness, his default state rather than any especial irritation. Drake shrugged, handing over the paper. “Ari wanted to do it, and somehow managed to rope me and Aspel into doing it with her.” He watched as Bram’s signature appeared, letter by letter with each stroke of his pen. “Thanks,” he added. “Nothing of it,” Bram said, re-pocketing the pen as he returned the paper. His attention was already slipping inexorably back to the exhibition in front of them, where the samurai and dragoons (an obvious item of interest) were just about ready to square off. It was quite unfortunate that Arabella had left when she had. Certainly, her ship would have been one of the top contenders for what was happening today, and the prize, well… That wasn't something anyone was likely to sneeze at. However, people left, and life went on, and things changed. Just like Aspel sitting here now had changed. Would she have ever imagined herself sitting here, teeth gritted as the final contestants were zipping around the final corner and into the home stretch. "Faram." Aspel murmured to herself, unsure of how to best go about this. Maybe she would have been better leaving this up to Ari, the bard had been the one to insist upon the game after all, hadn't she? Though… Should the smith try to time it just right? Should she pay off someone else to take the picture for her? Should she… And just then, she realized there wasn't time to think anymore, raising the camera and rapidly pressing the button as the rapid advance was made on the finish line, and then crossed, Aspel prayed she'd gotten a picture of it…. It might take a bit to sort out the thirty or so pictures she'd taken once they were developed but… Hey, at least it was something. The celebration was no less exciting than last year’s, for all that Ari was unable to drink. The play was done -- without incident, at that -- and what better reason to dance and sing and make merry? As always, the tavern had filled quickly with performers and their fans. Ari was mid-dance when she saw a familiar face appear, surrounded as always by other revelers. Councilor Mathieu Rozenkatz had always been skilled at making entrances. As the final strains of the dance died down, Ari excused herself from her partner and made her way across the tavern, greeting her old friend with a cheerful expression. “You are so fashionably late that I already managed to get here, and I had to get out of make-up,” she chided. “You enjoyed the show, I trust?” Looking excessively pleased to have found Ari in the midst of the tavern revelry (or more specifically, she had found him), Mathieu wriggled out of his space near the bar and afforded her a congratulatory pat on the back. “Trust that I could hardly do less, my marvelous Miss Chiaro,” he said with gusto, and Mathieu was truly well-pleased at the performance and reception he had seen. Certainly enough of a victory to warrant the celebration tonight, in his opinion. “Shall I buy you something non-alcoholic as a gesture of my gratitude?” And trust Mathieu to give her a perfect opening. Grinning like the cat that had eaten the metaphorical canary, she said, “In fact, my good sir, you can provide me with something far more priceless.” A napkin was snatched from the bar and offered to him with that same grin still playing across her features. “Would you be so kind as to sign this for me?” Mathieu looked at Ari in dramatic mock-horror as she pulled out the napkin. He had been assailed throughout the day for similar purposes, of course, and had presented each participant in the scavenger hunt with the most cheerful and gracious face he could muster. “How ambitious!” Grin back in place, Mathieu patted down his jacket for a pen (always something to sign, no matter the day or event--this was the life of a council member) and took up the item. He offered up his signature with much dramatic flourish, easily recognizable to those who would be counting up similar items in this year’s game, and handed the napkin back to Ari. “For you, my lady,” he chirped, “and a wish of luck along with it.” “Thank you,” she said. “I will take your wishes of good luck, as I intend to win this game this year.” Tucking the paper away, she offered him her hand and said, “Now then, I know the dance -- or two, or three -- that you promised me is for the ball, but surely you can spare one for one for one of the heroes of the hour…” Fortunately, he seemed more than willing to follow her onto the floor. Sleeping in had its advantages. When many people were no doubt taking advantage of final day sales or ogling archers and gunmen, Ari took her time strolling through her home district with a smile on her face. The play was done -- successfully, and without any new burns -- and today was mostly for her own enjoyment. And to finish the scavenger hunt, of course. One could never say Arielle Chiaro didn’t follow through when her mind was set on something. She stopped for coffee at the tiny shop across from the Sphere, then wandered over to the White Rose Theatre just before their matinee. It was quick work to trade her signature for a playbill to a show she -- unfortunately -- wouldn’t have time to attend. Still, she looked over it curiously as she continued to walk. It would run for another week -- perhaps she might go another day… Her reverie was broken by the sound of someone playing the Flight of the Bumblebee on an accordion. With a grin, she turned her steps. She knew exactly one person who was mad enough to attempt it (and to succeed as ably as this player seemed to be doing). Sure enough, there was Yuri, sitting upon a box he must have found somewhere and with his hat on the ground before him, giving everyone a view of impossibly tousled dark curls. She waved as she approached the crowd surrounding him and he winked, hands continuing their rapid machinations as the piece continued. Surely, she had a few minutes to linger. And knowing Yuri, an offer to join him for his next piece -- perhaps one of the bright songs from his little corner of Kerwon, of which he was so fond -- would be enough to net her a song list. Business and pleasure -- could there be any better combination? As he finished the final run, she clapped and cheered along with the crowd before making her way forward. Time to earn him some money -- and herself the coveted paper. “You can’t possibly tell me you intend to eat nothing before your match,” Ari said, hands on hips, quite ready to argue her point if need be. “Look,” she said, withdrawing a folded paper from the pocket at the side of her instrument case and waving it at them, as though this would convince them when her words would not, “I even got this map for us at the box office earlier when I saw some enterprising soul passing them out; we have several hundred options and an hour and a half to try at least one of them.” An eyebrow quirked curiously at the map. “This nearly seems like cheating.” Aspel added in as eyes roamed over the map presented by the bard in front of her. “Do you think we ought to mark our own suggestions perhaps?” A glance was cast between the two people next to her. “It may be of… better assistance if the man requesting these items actually intends to use them.” “I’m not hungry,” Drake repeated for what had to be the twentieth time. Eating before a match - even nearly two hours before - seemed like a bad idea. “I’ll eat later. Besides,” he leaned over, wrapping his arms around the waists of the two women, “I’m pretty sure the taco stand in the Bazaar is actually poison, and it’s marked on there.” “Everyone has their own taste,” Ari said. She didn’t think those tacos were so bad! “Besides, we can circle our favorites for the organizer -- but that does mean we ought to try them. I heard something about samosas to die for this morning, and that cart is meant to be not far from here.” She shot Drake an exasperated look and said, “We can find you a salad. You need some energy before getting the stuffing beaten out of you, surely.” “Ah, Drake does have a point.” Aspel chimed in with a glance given to the man. She’d lost track of time, and it was getting close to when they were going to team up to face off against the Riskbreaker. “Something light is all that shall be acceptable until after the match.” A glance was cast over the map again, trying to consider what might be best at this time. It didn’t look like they’d have a wide assortment to pick from for all the time it’d take to get there, get something ordered between the crowds, eat and get back. “It would be best to pick something near the exhibition locale.” Her words were pensive, and her gaze turned down to the map once more. Ari sighed and muttered, “Salads for everyone.” She would simply have to revisit this map with them later, it seemed. “Well,” Ari said, attempting to sound encouraging, “at least you’re hardly limping at all.” How that was possible was a mystery -- the man had taken quite a beating only a few hours prior -- but then, she thought fighters were a mystery as a rule. “And I think we’re nearly there.” They’d had to make a stop -- a newly healed Drake was a hungry Drake -- but they were walking down Yun street, so it was only a matter of time. She just had to hope the vendor wasn’t sold out of stuffed moogles yet, because there simply hadn’t been an opportunity to get here earlier. Drake glared and shoved the last of the sandwich into his mouth. Once he’d swallowed, he replied, “Lasted longer than last year, at least.” Which they had. Not by much, but still. Next year, for sure. At any rate, they were coming up on Dia and sure enough, there was the merchant. Along with a display of brightly colored moogles. “Let’s get this over with.” Talking to the man turned out to be a challenge -- Aspel might have been useful here, Ari thought forlornly, as it was obvious his Valendian was very, very poor -- but with hand gestures and Ari’s own limited skills, they managed. “He says fifteen gil each,” Ari said, examining the plushes critically. “You know, these are really cute.” “I’ll take one,” he told the merchant, holding up one finger to make sure the guy didn’t misunderstand. Fifteen gil was a rip off for a plushie that he could probably get for free as a prize for one of the games, but it had to come from this vendor. “Zwei,” Ari disagreed, holding up two fingers. To Drake, she repeated, “They’re cute, Drakey. I want one to keep.” He sighed and held up two fingers. There was no point arguing with her - he’d only lose. The merchant handed him two moogle plushes, and he in turn handed one off to Ari. Her bright, triumphant smile was worth the thirty gil. Ari took getting ready for balls very seriously. Fortunately, she did not anticipate having to stay at the machinists’ competition until the end -- the first round, she thought, would net her exactly what she needed. This was when the flimsiest of the creations would make their debut, or so one had to assume. As the qualifying round commenced, however, she found herself feeling a bit sorry that she couldn’t stay longer. This was actually quite a spectacle, and it wasn’t at all difficult to get into the excited mood shared by the crowd as two metal collosi stomped into the makeshift ring. The bigger of the two robots, however, seemed to be rather poorly made -- as the match began, the smaller competitor launched something that looked rather like a short-range rocket and blew its arm clean off. The match progressed pretty much as one would expect from there, until the smaller robot stood victorious, and the larger lay in several pieces. It paid to be a thief once in awhile, even when one’s choice of activity wasn’t strictly illegal. Nimble and small, she ducked into the ring as applause and jeering erupted in the stands; as the hapless machinist attempted to put his very broken robot back together, she grabbed the first small piece lying near the edge -- a shiny bit of red metal with a crooked screw protruding from it -- and darted back into the crowd. She didn’t think anyone had noticed in the chaos, but all things considered, perhaps it was best that she didn’t intend to linger after all... It had been one hell of a race. Really, Aspel had wondered - briefly at one point - if Mag would win at all. Though of course, in the end the other woman had come from behind and won. It caused the smith to wonder if her friend wasn’t meant to live in the air all along, really, the way Mag was… Well, it just never made much sense to Aspel that the other woman would remain on the ground for long. Regardless, with the race won, and all the fuss over with Aspel slipped through what was left of the doting admirers and over to her best friends side. “Quite the race. For the briefest moment, I thought you might consider leaping from your bike and rocketing yourself over the finish line alone. Do you believe the judges may have allowed it?” With the words out, she couldn’t help the impish smirk rising to her face. “Oh, I considered it towards the end there,” Mag said, returning the look. “I was trying to recall if the rules said the winner would be the first hoverbike to cross the line or the first pilot, when the boosters did their job.” Laughing, she excused herself as a squire from the guildhall walked away with a memstone and turned to Aspel. The race was over, but she felt still as though she were floating above the ground, and she couldn’t stop smiling and laughing at even the silliest of jokes thrown her way. “So are you here to take your picture with me, my Lady Cassul?” “Ah, we shall need to inspect the rulebook quite thoroughly for next year, no?” The smirk remained for a moment until Mag brought about the reminder of the picture required to win the scavenger hunt. “It would appear you have devised my real intent all along I fear. Red handed, I am.” The device was fished out of her coat pocket, and held aloft. “The price for a picture Ms. Paget?” “To be determined. Though I suppose lunch and apple tarts sometime this week would be a fine start.” Mag reached out to loop her arm through Aspel’s as a nearby squire helpfully took up the device to photograph them. She grinned and flashed a thumbs up at the device. A short laugh was given, amusement clear in her eyes. “I believe I may make it off easy yet.” With the device handed off, and poses taken up Aspel leaned in tightly against Mag, and pressed a kiss to her cheek as the picture was taken, immortalizing their near married status in this scavenger hunt item for the world. |