Secrets in Hidden Places

So it's been a few days. One. Two. Somewhere in there, Chay found some courage. Not at the bottom of a bottle. But, maybe--where he's found it lately. In good, honest work.

Hard work.

He's to meet Yelrona, here, at the Tribune. Somewhere near the printing press--a printing press that needs you know. Cleaned.

Rolls lifted.

Changed.

Set.

And reset.

Manual labor.

Yelronawas pleased to hear back from the skittish Sith.

Also, she is pleased she doesn't have to say 'skittish Sith' out loud.

Anyway, to minimize the chance of being followed, she has arrived at the Tribune in her Guise as a human warehouse laborer, Galen.

"Yeah, I'm makin' a delivery?"

GAME: Yelrona rolls disguise+10+10-2-2: (20)+11+10+10+-2+-2: 47

"Back thiss way," comes the hesitant voice. It's pitched...a little differently. Lesson one, this is. The Totally a Human wears a checkered shirt and a printer's smock. There's inkstains. Inkblots, on both smock and arms. He sets the barrel down, and looks up.

Yelrona nods. The voice is definitely an improvement over last time... if she weren't expecting a Sith she might not have noticed.

Maybe.

She joins the Not Even Slightly A Sith in the printer room. "This reminds me of trying to find private time with Kalniss, back in Yves Namvadin." She shakes her head and giggles, letting her guise drop. Her clothes and appearance change in an instant to her usual self, though she is still carrying the same nondescript package.

The Not a Sith-makar puts down the barrel, and smiles. He has a shock of red hair, and he's tall. Tall and an awkward height for a human, but it works.

If one inserts a touch of awkward, like a giant who doesn't know where his limbs are, not quite.

"Good to ss-see you. Have a--" he says, and pauses. He walks to the doorway, and looks down the hall. Steps back in. "Seat."

Yelrona sits. Normally she would pace, but anything she can do to put Chay at ease is worth doing. The man is going to explode if he doesn't find some way of living in balance with the fugitive lifestyle he's fallen into.

"Good to see you too," she says, sincerely. "How have you been?"

Pe--adjusting. Adjusting, s- ..." Not Chay finds a seat too, uneasily. Puts a hand in his palm, and smiles at her. "One has a friend in the forest, who iss being very--who is helpful. And with practice, o--I may be able to pass. At least," he says, and casts a look at the door.

"I may not leave this room overmuch, but one may see the news."

He pauses. "How--your kind sayss that, don't you? 'How are you'?"

Yelrona nods. "Well, _my_ kind can get flowery enough that it takes half an hour to manage introductions, but there is a reason I left the Mythwood. Yes, 'How are you?' is right, for humans in Alexandria. The ritual reply is usually 'Fine, thanks.' And you've already figured out 'I' instead of 'one,' good."

She opens the box, which contains a lot of nonperishable food, some human clothing and disguise equipment, and a large pitcher, which Rona prays over for a moment, causig it to fill with water.

GAME: Yelrona casts Create Water. Caster Level: 7 DC: 13

"One...we do not ask su--things like that, s--" Chay stops. Then, tries again, "We don't ask things like that. Not outsside casste or. Or if one is a shaman."

Longer pause. Hesitant, "How wass that?" he asks. Then looks at the pitcher. "O--I knew you for a Hunter," he admits.

Yelrona nods and smiles. "Better! A lot better. We'll work on the sibilants later. But, yes. I have to assume that all of us softskins just sound apallingly rude to you, pretty much all the time, right?"

"Ssometimes. Arrogant, ssometimes. This is hard to explain. It--my instincts are different. But some sso--some of your kind ssay that we are one and the same, and the differences are only skin."

He smiles wanly. "Ssome of us like ss--your kind very much, but Charn has not been a good teacher."

Yelrona nods. "I understand. Humans feel that way about the Llyranesi a lot, also. Not without reason. And the Llyranesi think humans are vulgar, for the most part. So that's what I figured. And that's fine, but if you're going to make this role work, you're going to need to get used to being rude. By your standards _and_ ours."

She smiles fondly. "For what it's worth, I'm fond of the People, as well. And, yes... Charn poisons everything," she agrees grimly.

"So! All right. Where would you like to start?"

"Here, I focuss on my problems every day, except as I am reading the news. The labor iss good." His speech is more hesitant, somewhat stilted as he's fighting to cut off the ss's and syllabance.

"Give me ssomething else to think about, please. What iss it you have been up to? If one may--what is it you have been up to?" he asks, then perhaps ruins it by glancing towards the door.

Footsteps walk by, then continue.

After a moment, he goes from still, to moving again.

Yelrona laughs. "Well, I'll admit, mostly I've been thinking about your problem. But, OK. Um..." she thinks. "Well, I ordered a protective gem from what might be the CREEPIEST crafter in all of Greater Alexandria. And found a good hot tub."

"Who is the creepiesst crafter ss--Yelrona?" he asks, Chay does. He shifts the barrel he sits on, but carefully. So that it does not scrape, make sound at all.

Perhaps a faint *click*.

"...it comess to me how little I have come to know the city, when--when I am always looking over my sshoulder. I would enjoy hearing about thiss crafter."

Yelrona nods agreeably. "Her name is Alba, and she owns a... well, a monster farm, I guess is what you'd have to call it. Full of giant spiders and suchlike. And she's a witch... which, I must admit, I don't know much about. The only other witch I know is a sweet guy who turns into a seagull. And who has a pet seagull, and I try not to think about that too much." She adds hastily "Oh, and there was another one working with the Dranite army, last year, during the war... but we didn't exactly meet socially."

"Alba?" the Not a Sith-makar says, as he sits up straighter. And smiles. "One--I know her. Her heart iss kind to the People. I am sstaying at her housse."

Then he blinks, and stares off into nothing for a moment.

Yelrona blinks in surprise. "Oh! Well, then, you know. And there's this giant spider -- well, I guess you know that, too." She thinks about it. "I guess we must all seem about equally weird to you, huh? Physically, I mean."

"I--ssa. Yess, you do. This--" he says and reaches up to mess his fingers in his hair. "--is esspecially confusing. I have sseen so many of your kind do sso, but all I would do is--is--"

He pauses, lowers his voice, "Thump my tail, s--Yelrona. One of the--one has read the books you left me. They are mosst insstructive."

Yelrona blinks at the abrupt subject change. Not that she was exactly following the subject it changed _from_. Well, other than hair.

She chuckles. "Thump my tail, incidentally, while charming, isn't so much a human expression. Actually -- " She looks curiously around Chay, then shakes her head "no, never mind. I don't think I want to know how you're hiding your tail. Whatever works. Anyway. So... what have you learned?"

"...there iss a lot of trade in Alessandria, and that the world iss quite large," Chay says, leaning forward. "And they gossip like in thosse novels you lent me." He seems to have taken the Crimson Pen novels very seriously.

He might even be taking notes!

Oh, dear.

"Alexandria," Rona echoes, emphasizing the X. Then she thinks about the Sith's mouth and hrms. "You might do better to just call it "the City" or "this place" or something.

"One--I will take note," he says, and it sounds like he would.

"I...Yelrona, thank you. I cannot tell my people how kind yourss have been, but thank you."

Yelrona nods. "Of course." She thinks a second before adding "Your Nest's enemies are my enemies. Always. I can't really wish you peace, under the circumstances... but you will have victory in the end." With a smirk, she concentrates a bit and grows a mildly convincing tail, which she thumps once before letting it vanish.

Tentatively, she adds "I know you don't want to think about it, but it would help me to understand what exactly _happened_, with the boat. Do you think you could tell me?"

"...it wass a fake sship. It lissted itsself ass carring one thing, but in reality carried another, ssir," he says, his shoulders drooping. He looks back.

"One iss frightened, every day. ...but perhapss it iss only becausse I know the enemy sso well. They will sstop at nothing, Yelrona. There were cultissts on that sship. Thulian priessts and binders. ...which meant Contractss, sser."

GAME: Yelrona rolls knowledge/religion: (13)+7: 20

Yelrona nods. "It does. Do you have any idea what they Contracted for, or with?"

"That would be ensslavement, sser."

Yelrona nods. Which completes the circle. "So. You found a ship full of slaves, then, with their Thulian handlers. You freed them, I take it, and left the ship at the ocean floor... along with their handlers?"

"...the sslaves were freed, sser. One will not ssay one'ss own role. Esscept perhapss, that the sship wass in a pirate'ss coven." Chay looks across at her, his face serious, and still.

"That the mission wass uncovered, sser--and ssuch a sship organized--there are many powerful playerss at work, sser. /That/ iss why one iss consserned, sser."

Yelrona nods slowly. "Any idea why you in particular are being targeted? I mean, I assume there were several adventurers involved.

"If one felt one wass of worth, sser, one would ssay my old--my old massters were of your noble classes. But, one cannot be that arrogant in a hunt, sser. It iss always besst to misslead, or missdirect the prey."

"One may be very little, other than a ssmall fish, sser. Of the other adventurerss, and there were many sser, only mysself wore a dissguise, both magic and mundane."

"...sso one iss. It iss consserning, sser. Your ideass, your forwardness, are the firsst tools one hass had to undersstand, sser."

Yelrona spends a long time thinking about that. "Well," she finally says. "If you were the only one targeted, that suggests that you _are_ important, at least to the ones hunting you. Which suggests the connection may be personal. Your old masters... are there names one could research?"

It's an illusion, but the man across from her goes pale. He looks like his stomach lurches. His abrupt standing might be to keep his lunch down, or it might just be...

Okay, yeah, it might be that. He walks over towards the printing press, and its letters, and its drums. Its smell of ink. "Pyotr and Ozera Stepanyev, sser," he says, voice barely above a whisper. "...if they may ssee through my dissguises, one cannot invesstigate, directly. But one may read the paper," he says, looking over his shoulder at her. Ah. There's bravery. There you are. Hi. Perhaps it was there all along.

Yelrona nods. "You can't," she agrees. "I can. More generally, the Inquisition can. We'll find out what we can."

"It iss...thank you, ss--thank you," he says again, Chay does. "We thought Alessandria wass a ssafe haven. I...thiss one would like her to be, sser. But perhapss we musst fight for her," he says, his voice hoarse, and quiet.

Yelrona nods. "That's where safety comes from," she agrees. "From being willing to fight for it. Oh! Which reminds me," she says, rummaging through the box and coming up with a stuffed plushie of Captain Svarshan. Sandy didn't disintegrate _this_ one, at least!

"I thought you might want a... hero of your own nest, to help you through this."

Chay--Cedric, looks down at the plushie. "Thank you," he says, sounding numb. He looks up at her. "My--my people took me back in, when I arrived," he tells her, but doesn't say the rest.

War stories. What you can talk about. What you can't. Finding your own way through things. Or your own feet. And tail. He tucks the plushie under his arm, in the crook of his elbow. It goes, "Rhaaaawwwrr..." in a wheezy, you're pushing the air out of my noisebox, kind of way.