Odds and Ends (Open Roleplay Thread)

(The following is an open thread, welcome to any who want to toss in some odd writing. If no one responds, I'll continue posting anyway! Enjoy. :) )
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She just stood there.

Her mouth was twisted into a smirk, oozing with pride, only half displayed by the mask that had almost been torn clean off her face. It now served as a disheveled trophy.

“Don’t touch the mask.”

The comment was warm with a soft, almost untraceable accent- and it was directed to a dark-skinned man now squirming on the floor. Some curse words were sputtered outward in return to the remark. Navenia smirked again and shook her hand rapidly in an effort to regain some of the feeling.

Keep smiling. Keep smiling. Damn, that one hurt.

The frown was brief, but after only a second Navenia flickered her dull green eyes upward at the rest of the inn. A quick gaze around the smoky interior judged that her action was either unimportant or missed entirely. The other patrons spared only glances, but continued their conversations without skipping a beat. The man stood up holding the right side of his jaw, and stumbled away in a drunk stupor. Navenia adjusted her mask so that it properly covered her nose and mouth and- after a quick check to assure her hood had stayed in place- returned to her seated position at the table in the left corner of the Rum n’ Rumble.

Okay, perhaps lurking in the corner of a shipwrecked tavern full of drunken pirates and locals within the City of Tortage was, in itself, inviting trouble. Perhaps. Not that Navenia would ever admit that.

With the back of her glove she brushed the top of her exposed, fair-skinned cheekbone, and crossed her arms over her chest.

Its been awhile now. She thought to herself among the audible chatter of the locals. Maybe I've been too rash about meeting them here.

Her eyes dropped to stare at the single candle off-center of her table.

Something about this feels…wrong.

'We can't have this conversation here, Navi, I’ve already called the guards!'

"You arse! Damn it. What's the damn ship called? The Rut- the wreck?"

'The Rum n' Rumble. You can't miss it. The only ship on land, and the only other tavern in Tortage! Now go before they catch you in my shop!'

"When will you-"

Her words were cut off. The guards were banging loudly on the door. Navenia narrowed her eyes at the shopkeeper, but escaped through a window on the second floor before the guardsmen had gained entry into the store.


She could remember the conversation very well. It was only two days ago. Navenia brushed a hand over the broken skin on her exposed fingers, just underneath the edge of a grungy pair of brown fingerless gloves. With a pursed mouth her eyes swept the room once again. The tavern had died down in excitement considerably, and a grumpy bar girl moved back and forth between the round tables to pick up a variety of mugs and trash.

What remained were only soft conversations from seven or eight semi-coherent patrons, and the soft ocean breeze that had begun mixing with the scent of smoke and booze.

The shopkeeper had never kept the meeting they had planned, but Navi was obligated to at least stay the night.

With a swift motion Navenia stood from her spot in the corner of the Rum n’ Rumble, and took a few steps to look outward along the shore-line of Tortage. Her hands rested on the jagged edge of the gaping hull. With a finger she pulled down her facemask, parted her lips, and inhaled deeply. The feeling of cool air inflating her lungs was a welcome one. The smell of the harbor invading her nose, was not.

Navenia turned again, back leaning against the wall so that she could scan her surroundings. Her eyes rested solely on a single man on the opposite side of the room. He’d been there as long as Navi, but was already on his fifth ale. The drunk was a guardsmen by the name of Daylen, one that could pinpoint her from a mile away even with her mask on. A nagging feeling continued to bother Navenia, telling her that the shopkeeper had sent him in his place. But for whatever reason- as Daylen had never even taken a look around- his eyes were kept solely on the inside of his tankard and on the outside of a nearby woman’s blouse.

Navenia was prompted with the urge to take a long stretch, and after doing so she retreated further away from the Inn’s candlelight and farther into the dim moonlight that made its way inside.

And she watched Daylen, for a time.

His eyes locked on her.

Navenia stopped dead in her movement, and grew incredibly still. A server passed by, making it hard to see Daylen. Was he looking at her? Over the passing woman’s shoulder she tried to make out where he was looking. A strange sneer turned up on his face.

No. No no no no.

A strange feeling was creating an uneven amount of tension in her body. Daylen stands up, albeit very drunk, and takes a wobbly step toward the shadowed woman. Outrunning him would be no challenge, that much was clear, but again the nagging feeling pulled at the bottom of the Aquilonian woman’s gut.

“Oi. You. Yeah, you! Little sneak thief!”Dayleen sneers and wipes the corner of his mouth. “You sneaky little wench. Think you're so smart, yeah?”

Navenia forces herself to relax.

What? He comes over here, I say something witty, and escape down the side door and stairs. Calm down. He can barely walk, let alone hold a sword straight.

Navenia returns a sly smile. “Miss me?”

Daylen howls in response, “I miss you like I miss the sores on me’ arse.”

By this time, Daylen is well across the room, and his stagger has her grinning ear from ear. In his drunken prowl, he knocks over a drink on a nearby table. The stranger- who is now soaked in ale- curses loudly, and when Daylen doesn't notice, he chucks the clay tankard at his head. This provokes a soft laugh, and she turns her head in a playful manner to look at him.

“How the hell are you expecting to lay a hand on me?” Navenia asks, genuinely curious.

The guardsmen growls, thrashing at the patron with the table, and he slowly looks to Navenia with a hollow glare. “I dun’ ave’ to.”

“Wha-“

The smash of the bottle from behind cracks loudly over her head.