Dark Market

The market at night is a sight different from the market during the day. For starters, what happens in the dark tends to be far less spoken of than what happens during the day. Like most cities.

Malik makes his way through the stalls, looking at the various wares on display. Pickled animal parts and dangerous herbs, useful for the magical arts -- and frowned upon for their obvious non-magical uses and connotations. Charms and amulets that promise to bring good luck, ward away bad luck, or deliver it unto your enemies, some of them possibly real, many of them nothing more than superstitious trinkets for locals who need to feel more in control of their lives.

Stopping at one of the booths, he picks up a vial of some manner of herb, sniffing at it carefully as he exchanges some words with the vendor -- probably inquiring as to what conditions it was harvested in, and how long ago, though like everyone else here, he keeps his voice low enough to not draw too much attention to himself.

Not far from him, reveling in the slower pace of the market at night, Auranar stood looking at the wares being offered by a different vendor. This one was offering various incenses and trinkets. Blank rings waiting for a mark to be put on them. Holy and in some instances not-so holy symbols carefully arranged so that the ones that were perhaps less 'desirable' were mostly hidden by those that were more commonplace. It was the incense that held the pink and black-haired elf's attention however. Looking over the wares with a critical eye until...

Dark eyes happened to glance around as she considered her choices, and pretended to have the intention of walking away. That was always a good way to convince a seller that they were willing to lower their price after all. Which is when she spots Malik. The sight of the mage stalls her in her steps and she immediately takes a calming breath that does little to stall the scowl that burdens her brow.

Malik finishes his own transaction, seemingly only barely satisfied with what the man had on offer, and less so with the price that he was charging. Still, the wizard pays, rolling his eyes as he stuffs the small, glass vial of herbs into that pouch over his shoulder. Turning, he glances at the holy symbols, cocking his head for a moment as he considers them. It's only when he spots the elf scowling that he turns more fully to look at her.

"You seem familiar," he starts, crossing his arms as a small smile forms. Squinting, he cocks his head to the side, then snaps his fingers. "Ah. Right. I almost didn't recognize you. The scowl wasn't -quite- deep enough to jog memory. I must be making a better impression this time."

Kneeling down, he pushes aside some of the more-desirable holy symbols, reaching into the back to find one that -- doesn't seem to be a holy symbol at all. Not one recognized as part of the Holy Order, anyway. Standing, he thumbs the little thing, looking it over dispassionately -- but keeping half an eye on Auranar. Just in case.

It's clear from the expression on Auranar's face that Malik is /anything/ but welcome in her presence, and even less so this close to her. In fact she takes a step back. Her hands clasp into fists at her side and she looks at him with just enough anger that the proprietor of the stall begins to look a touch nervous. Particularly when Malik's words are clearly ones that are more antagonistic than helpful. "I doubt you'll find anything here that comes from your /friend/." Her dark eyes take in Malik, weighing him and obviously finding him wanting.

"I'm not surprised that you don't remember me. I'd be surprised if you remember anyone with your head shoved so far up your ass." Auranar soothes her skirt with one sharp angry motion of her right hand, and looks down on him for all that she's far shorter. /Much/ shorter. "After tonight I doubt my opinion of you could /get/ any lower."

Malik, for the most part, doesn't seem bothered in the slightest. He glances up at her, raising an eyebrow, though only barely managing that. "I'm not sure that I would call us 'friend'," he says. "I still think he's a bit self-absorbed. But he's getting more helpful every time I speak to him. He managed to tear himself away from his harem and show up in a bath towel, after all, though I'm not sure that was entirely his own choice. And I'm not entirely sure that he would -have- a symbol here."

At the rest of it, though, he just gives her his best neutral expression. "As for your opinion of me not able to get any lower, absolute-stranger-that-knows-nothing-about-me, it'll take some time, but I think I'll recover. I'll try and lose as little sleep as possible over your disapproval of -- whatever it is you disapprove of." He gives a noncommittal shrug. "My guess is that the white lizard fed you yet another of her dragon-shit stories?"

The elf stares at Malik for several long seconds as if he's possibly grown a new and rather unfortunately disfigured head. After that she returns to glaring at him irritably. "I don't know why I would be surprised to learn anything about you but... Wow. Do you have no regard for Seldan at all? Any concern that associating with someone like you could make him lose his goddesses blessings?" Auranar twists her lips and snorts. "I doubt you do. And as for /Cryosanthia/ she hasn't said a word about you as far as I know. Which means you've earned your reputation all on your own."

Malik sticks the little necklace in his pocket, tossing a couple of coins down where the others lay. More than enough to cover it. It seems that his attention is now on the elven woman, that smile growing. "How and why is my relationship with Seldan any of your business?" he asks, raising an eyebrow -- though now, he looks amused. "The last I checked the holy texts, the shifting goddess didn't give a ounce of goblin spit about who her servants shared a bed with, man or woman. So I'm not sure why you get a say in it? Condescending high-brow disapproval seems reserved for the servants of the Draco Solis. Perhaps you missed your calling?" He spreads his hands to the side in a 'the possibilities are endless' sort of gesture. "As for earning my reputation on my own -- it's nice to be recognized for your efforts, at least."

Inexplicably the woman flushes, which is impressive given her dark features, but more rises to Auranar's cheeks none the less and she manages a half-sputtered response that ends in a growl. "Of course she doesn't care about /that/, but she sure as shit cares if he's associating with someone who's /evil/." The last word is a hiss, barely spoken, and thoroughly spooked the man at the stall finally disappears - with Malik's coin.

"You seem to have a lot of opinions," Malik laughs, eyes brightening a bit at the accusation of being evil. "Very few of them grounded in any sort of reality. It's amusing. Maybe you should try your hand at writing the rice-paper fictions the nobles so crave. An easy fortune in that, if you can keep up with their demand for raunch and scandal." He rolls his eyes now, shifting the bag on his shoulder. "It's not the first time I've been called evil. I'm sure it won't be the last. And you, like the rest, are quite wrong. At least as far as the precious magics that discern such things are concerned." Though he doesn't sound like he has a lot of faith in their general efficacy. "If you'd like to try -yet again-, though, be my guest. It'll be interesting, watching you make a fool of yourself."

Auranar snorts. "Even if I could cast the spell - which I can't - I wouldn't trust it. There are ways to cover up that evil stink. I'm sure as a fellow mage you know /that/ much. So your offer is worth about as much as your word is." She locks eyes with him, not backing down an inch. "You know, I thought at first you were just an insensitive prick, but every time I meet you, you just sink it home a little further that you are exactly what my first impression of you was."

Malik stares at her levelly. "Sure," he agrees, that tsuran accent flowing and melodic. "There are ways to cheat it. But what I'm hearing right now is that you merely want to lob accusations for which you have no proof, and expect the world to conform to your opinion, rather than seeking the truth and forming your opinion around it. Which tells me that you're no 'fellow mage'. Merely an overeager dabbler who will never make it past the most basic of practices. In order to shape the world to your desires, you first have to see it for what it truly is. A feat which you seem rather ill equipped to handle."

"No proof? You talk about that... showing up around you in a /towel/ and you think..." Auranar stares at Malik and shakes her head. "The first time I met you, you just stood there advocating that we just let him do whatever he wants. People /notice/ that kind of thing. Maybe you're right, maybe I don't have any concrete /evidence/, but what I've seen? I'd have to be an absolute fool to not be cautious of that. So you can say whatever you like about me someone /you/ know nothing about, but I'm not going to just blithely ignore what you're doing."

Malik's confused look returns as the woman starts in on her accusations once more. "Strange," he says. "If we've met before, then you left so very little impression on me that I don't remember in the slightest. Then again, after what I've seen today, perhaps not so strange." He leans forward, sniffing a little. "You don't -smell- drunk. And yet for the life of me I have no idea what you're babbling about. How long have you been at this stall?" he asks. "I think the pipe house around the corner might be starting to affect you."

Indignation slips out of Auranar's lips as he leans forward to /sniff/ her. She takes another step back almost on reflex. "I'm not drunk, and I'm not..." Her expression is one tight line of irritation and she stares him down for all that she's hardly intimidating at her size. "Though /you/ might be if you can't remember words you said not five minutes ago."

"I remember speaking of Dylan Hunt," Malik assures her. "The towel is etched firmly in my memory. I just have no idea what has you in such a particular twist about it? Or where we've met before? Were you on the airship?" The smile grows a little sly at that. "Did he tire of your services and leave you here? That would explain much. I might be a bit put out too."

Auranar's mouth opened, then closed only for a dark cloud to settle over her shoulders and brow. "Is that what you call him? Mmmm? Fancy name for your /friend/ so that nobody else guesses at what he is? I don't know what /you/ do with that /fiend/ but I wouldn't touch him with a ten foot pole." Suddenly she leans forward a little bit, one hand clasped in the folds of her skirt. "Isn't it a little pot calling the kettle black to claim that someone else is... what is it you said 'selling their services' when you're out selling yourself to the lowest bidder?"

Malik opens his mouth as if to say something, but looks momentarily at a loss for words. "You -- just saw a woman separated from her head by an archdemon," he starts, "and you think -- that -- a only-sometimes-moderately-helpful son of a dead archmage qualifies as a -fiend-?" He looks genuinely baffled. "You certainly seem to have a rather unique outlook on the world. Are you -sure- you haven't spent too much time in the pipe house?" He cocks his head a bit. "Are you -- in need of healing, perhaps? Should I seek someone from the temples?"

Irritated, and finally, finally tired of Malik and all /this/ Auranar drops her words like a lead weight. "I'm talking /about/ that arch-demon you twice-baked /fool/. You know? The one that /killed/ Verna, and Toha. And /me/, and my /parents/." She steps closer to Malik again, her anger carrying her toward the mage. "You're the one spouting gibberish about what? A mage? What is wrong with you? Are you crazy?"

Malik simply looks down at her, crossing his arms over his chest as she gets closer. "That's what you think, then?" He scoffs. "Then you truly are a bigger fool than I thought. What, you think I'm merrily going about the demon's business, then? Is that it?" He takes a step forward as well, the pair getting dangerously close now. "I've tried to warn you fools for /weeks/. That he is -dangerous-. That strength of arms alone cannot beat him. And yet, you all willingly throw yourselves against him. I tell you to keep out of the sewers, and you send in an investigation party. I tell you not to confront him in the tower, and you throw yourselves at him once more, as if you had any hope." He shakes his head. "Strength of arms alone -will not defeat him-. Wits are going to be the only thing that keeps everyone alive. Something that all of you seem to be sorely lacking, for you cannot see past your own agendas long enough to listen to what anyone is trying to tell you. You simply charge in blind, secure in the knowledge that your goodness will prevail against the darkness."

Malik narrows his eyes. "Tell me. How's that worked out for you so far?"

They /are/ rather dangerously close now, but Auranar isn't backing down. Not this time. "I think you talk awfully big and bold for a guy who seems to want to lay down and let a demon do whatever the hell he wants. You want to know what I think? I think he's killed and left your name in people's entrails and other bodily organs like a love note. I think he's murdering us while you tell us to sit back and wait. I didn't go into the sewers. I listened to you telling us it wasn't safe. I listened and now I have to wonder where your loyalty really is, and if listening to you isn't exactly what /he/ wants!"

"My name written in entrails, in the sewers I told them to stay out of," he reminds her. "An incident that could not have occurred had they listened in the first place, instead of doing exactly what I said -not- to do. There isn't a workable intelligence between the whole lot of you. You're like the cartoons they have in the market, of the flesh-golems sharing the brain, constantly dropping pieces of it as they fight back and forth. Even children need only touch a hot stove once to learn to avoid it. The lot of 'adventurers' this city breeds, however, can't even seem to learn that basic lesson. This time, it will be different for sure. You touch it with the -other- hand. That will change the outcome."

Those eyes narrow once more. "As for almost dying, I did my fair share of that. And when it comes to where my -loyalties- lie," he says, "rest assured it's not with foolish children that insist on throwing themselves into the meat grinder in the name of goodness and light, as if they were the only gods that get a say in the universe."

Auranar snorts. "You sure do think highly of yourself don't you? Up there on your high horse. Everyone else is just 'stupid' huh? You ever think that you might be the one that's stupid? That you might be letting a demon manipulate you? Use you? That /he/ might be smarter than /you/?" She shakes her head at him again, pink and black curls bouncing. "I don't fight for 'goodness and light', I know perfectly well that there are gods of evil in this world and they get as much say in how we live and die as the other gods do."

The elf's eyes are tight and it's not all anger anymore, there's something sad and hurt there too. "I know that I'm just a small pawn in the big game. That's why I listened to you. That's why I counseled that we not fight that demon now... but while we listen to your /sage/ advice people are /dying/."

"And when you don't? More will." He shakes his head. "I went out of my way to try and help you, for Seldan. Because it's what he would do. What he would want -me- to do. But now I see it's as pointless as I thought it would be. I don't control the demon. I merely pass on his warnings. You can choose to heed them, or not. But if you don't, then you'll be another body on the pile of people that have thrown themselves against him and lost. Or who knows? Maybe -you- will be the one time it's different, and you can defeat him. Quite the gamble, though. I wouldn't take it, if I were you. But why heed my counsel?" He shrugs. "You clearly have a better plan. You should do that."

blinks and shakes her head again, unable to stop the motion. There's so many emotions right there on the surface. Caught in her black eyes. "Go ahead. Mock me. I'm not going to pretend like I have some grand plan. I don't. I'm..." Her hands shift, open and close. "But the next time you walk into a room like you did today, a room with a body that /he/ put into it? Remember that it was your advice that we wait around for him to put it on it. Toha? She didn't go into the sewers. /I/ didn't go into the sewers. But he killed us anyways. Because he's a /demon/. I hope the next person he kills isn't someone you actually care about. I hope I never have to see a dead body again. I hope you're /right/. But I know that's not how this is going to go. I don't know what Seldan sees in you, but if you have enough good in you to want to do what he would hope for you to do..."

Auranar swallows and takes a breath. "Maybe you could start by taking a real close look at what you're doing. Asking yourself if you're acting out of fear or so-called wisdom. If maybe a being that's been around a few millenia might be making you look like a fool. Making us /all/ look like damn fools."

Malik laughs, though this time, the sound is bitter. "You think I don't know that he's all making us look like fools? He doesn't need to be smart to do that. Or be around for a few millennia. He's -power-. Raw, unbridled power and malice, with just enough of a sense of humor to be cruel about it. We're about as dangerous to him as a pissed off puppy is to a knight in full plate. He doesn't need to make us look like fools. Everyone that doesn't -run- when he shows up does that for him."

He reaches up, pinching at the bridge of his nose. "You can think me in league with the demon if you wish. You can ignore what counsel I offer. It's your own peril either way. You might as well have a choice in it. But for what it's worth? I wish you luck." He reaches up, mimicking one of those Seldan moves, tucking a too-long lock of hair behind his ear. "I wish us -all- luck. We're going to need it."

"You haven't given me a single, solitary reason to trust you." Auranar waves a hand. "No, I don't expect an answer for that. I doubt there's anything you could say that would make me believe you, even if you were as trustworthy as Seldan. But..."

She stops, hesitates. "You know... As powerful as he is, there are ways to defeat him. Standing back and doing nothing, that's a choice. One... I can't make anymore. Even if it means that I die the next time I see him." She takes a step back now, not really conceding ground, but rather. This isn't a fight anymore. Not the way it had been. Auranar turns suddenly, making as if to leave.

"That's the difference between me and Seldan," Malik tells her, tone deadpan. "Seldan /cares/ that people trust him. He'll go out of his way to make sure that they do. Me? Trust me or don't. It makes no difference to me." He shoulders his bag, looking ready to leave to. "I tried it his way. Tried helping everyone else. And this is the result. You think I've been standing back doing nothing? Alright. Go be a distraction," he says, voice as sweet as can be. "If you insist on throwing your life away, then you can at least make yourself useful about it."

He turns on his heel. "I'd say that it was nice meeting you, whatever-your-name-is, but really, Seldan has gotten me into the habit of reserving the best lies for those that are worth them."

-End