Who: Viara Tremaine, Thren Canondias NPCs: A Templar named Eric, an innkeep When: 9:45; 4 Eluviesta Where: The Spoiled Princess What: A deal gone wrong, a friend in need. Rating: T - Language
Viara:
Sometimes the absolute stupidity of a situation made Viara want to laugh, often when it was probably much more prudent that she remain serious.
But, really, the man should have sent a representative. Poor slob.
With much of her concentration focused on keeping her lips straight, Viara regarded the Templar in front of her. He was large, like most of them, with blonde hair and pale eyes that were constantly flickering back and forth as he spoke, as if he were paranoid or unable to keep his attention on one thing for too long. His voice was wavering in both pitch and volume as he attempted to explain why he did not have the agreed-upon sum. It was really quite pathetic. For all his size, he was like a child begging for sweets.
Addicts. They really didn't help their own cause at all. Vi sighed, looking down at her crimson overcoat and clearing her throat loudly until he ceased his prattling.
"Honestly, ser, I don't give a flying..." Viara's lips started to form the next word, and then her nostrils flared and she thought better of it. "I don't care about your reasons for not having the price. You don't, so I'm leaving."
Vi's fingers curled protectively around the rich velvet sack tied to the leather belt at her waist - although the material was expensive, the color was a modest black. For the most part, Viara was a modest pirate, even when on-shore; while most of her shipmates tended to bedeck themselves in gaudy finery purchased with hard-won spoils, Viara's purchases were almost always practical. She had a slight weakness for bright for colors and silks; most of her overcoats were bold reds or blues, and she liked sashes. However, she owned little in the way of jewelry, feathers, ribbons and other accessories. This particular sack was used to conceal smaller items being smuggled for individual use, and the velvet was even purchased for a purpose - light didn't penetrate the material well. That was important, because the lyrium mixtures currently contained within it seemed to always have a glow that Vi couldn't quite snuff out.
To punctuate her point, Viara stood with one graceful gesture, her feet hitting the floor with a satisfying note of finality. She was wearing some of her finer boots tonight, silver buckles gleaming in the flickering firelight of the inn. As she disembarked the stool, she saw no less than four pairs of eyes quickly averting their gazes from her exchange with the Templar, and she couldn't help a smirk. Must be a slow day at The Spoiled Princess. She's probably worked with them all at one time or another, and her face would be known. Despite this entire area being supposedly under the Chantry's thumb, there was lots of wiggle-room for those with an entrepreneurial sense to make a lot of money off of those birds in their Tower cage. Even the Mage's Collective were able to have a representative deal openly within a stone's throw of the Templars standing watch at the Lake Calenhad docks. Some control indeed.
Vi moved to pick her way around the tables and towards the door, but before she could really make much progress forward, the Templar lurched behind her out of his seat, his gauntleted hand squeezing uncomfortably around Viara's upper left arm. She turned, realizing his strength and the futility of struggle as soon as she'd felt the urgency in the grip. After all, she was quite small, and he was really rather large in comparison. Besides, turning into the grasp that she supposed was meant to intimidate or frighten her allowed her to arch a brow impatiently, hopefully to catch him off guard.
"What?" She let her annoyance clip her tone.
He blinked, albeit slowly, his lyrium-deprived mind working hard to process her sudden imperious tone.
"Woman, I need it." Woman? Vi clicked her tongue as color rose to her cheeks. Wrong way to begin negotiations.
"Templar, I don't care. And it's Captain." She allowed her tone to lapse into a commanding range, and at his narrowed eyes, she pulled her arm back quickly. The timing was right; he'd forgotten to keep his grip. At the motion, he made a sound somewhere between a strangle and a growl in response.
"As I said. Either you take less, or you pay more. It is quite simple."
"I can't have less-! They don't give me enough as it is and...I need it." His face worked and he was shouting again, and Vi crossed her arms underneath her chest. This brought her right hand closer to the blade sitting at her left hip without drawing attention. He might be stronger, but she was faster, and in full possession of her mind. If he went for his sword, Vi was supremely confident she could outmatch him in several ways. Hopefully, though, it wouldn't come to that - it would make further business within the Princess ever so much more inconvenient for her if she were to make a huge scene.
"Well that's a shame, mate." She scoffed and turned, shaking her head. A whole afternoon wasted waiting for this imbecile.
She was confident he wouldn't charge; he seemed more fit to bursting out in tears or screaming at any moment. That was fine, just fine by her. Let him cause the scene and let her slip out amongst it. She noted, glancing around the interior, that all eyes were firmly on him now, and the corners of her lips lifted - she thanked the Maker, as she often did, for being an absent, uncaring god and therefore allowing His 'chosen ones' to make absolute asses of themselves all the time without His intervention; it was great fun. Of course, the irony of thanking both an absent god and one she didn't actually believe it didn't escape her, and she actually chuckled as she took a step or two in the direction of the door. Viara heard the Templar's throat tear in an odd, rending sound of grief and desperation behind her. Oh, it sounded like it would be a good breakdown.
That was the last though the Captain had before she was impacted directly in the spine by the armored shoulder of the Templar tackling her bodily from behind. She had almost no warning at all that he was going to attack - the eyes of a few of the other patrons widened a split-second before impact, and that was all. He bowled her headfirst into an unoccupied table and knocked the wind clean from her lungs, and Viara tasted something like panic at the back of her throat. Oh bad, bad. Very bad. He was still making an awful, desperate sound in his throat as he crushed her from above, one hands scrambling towards her waist and tugging furiously at her belt. The lyrium. Viara felt the sack underneath her stomach, pressing into the flesh. She tried to tell herself that the fact that she could still feel was good, but the deep, throbbing pain of impact on her back should really have been her first clue.
He was over and atop her, pinning her down with an arm pressing into the back of her neck and the weight of his chest on her back. She tried to squirm, but his armor grated and caught on her clothing, and he was pressing on her neck too hard, making breathing difficult.
Never underestimate an addict. Lesson learned. Vi bit her lip, closed her eyes, and with all of the might she possessed, shot her body upwards to try to knock him back off of her.