Complex Communications

The docks are largely quiet for the moment, the sea walls are invisible thanks to the pale gray mist that has rolled in and is currently obscuring everything from view. The spray from the Tornmawr only makes the mist all the heavier the closer to the river itself that one gets. In spite of the wet, two men stand near the edge of the docks near the river. They are not talking to one another but rather gesturing in subtle hand-motions. These motions however are difficult to make out due to the mist.

One of the men is clearly a Mul. His dark skin proclaiming that even through the mist. He crosses his wrists and shakes both hands back and forth, signaling something to the other man who is human, and Xian by descent. This man lifts one hand and shakes just the hand up and down from the wrist so that it almost seems to nod. The rest of their gestures are lost to the mist.

On one of the warehouses nearby a lonely crow sits, its black eyes watching everything.

The mist and rather dreary day was more than welcome for the silver sith-makar who was at the docks that day, sitting off one of the piers. They had a fishing rod in their hands, though they had not bothered to cast it out in quite a few minutes now. So they sat in silence where they were, occasionally stealing a glance at what passerbys could not stop their work due to the weather, or the two she could barely make out nearby.

Don't change your routine.

A scarred mul woman took that to heart. Though now each of her daily tasks had a slow bleed of anxiety. Eyes watching corners and rooftops. Even as she lugged crate and barrel on the docks. Across from the two men having a non-verbal discussion, a dock worker that the port knew decently well at this point was unloading a ship, putting a barrel down and stretching out her back with a silent grunt. She glances to the side, attention lingering on the motions. It wasn't often she saw Handspeech on the docks.

The Xian man signed something back to the Mul, something complex and quickly made. The motions are so fluid and the mist so thick that making out the signs is extremely difficult. A difficulty made more so by the fact that the Xian man is largely facing away from those that might view his hand-signs. The Mul makes a pushing gesture with both hands that clearly means 'slow down' and the Xian man repeats the gestures only slightly more slowly.

Seyardu was trying to keep to herself, but in one of her nervous glances towards the people, out of the corner of her eye. It was one of the easier words to pick out once she realized that they were discussing something in handspeech, what looked like the Mul'niessa's hands were bound together almost.

Should she investigate? Or was that another bad idea. The topic was concerning enough though, and she pulled herself to her feet with the fishing rod taken apart, as she takes a walk closer. In the mist, there is a figure watching the conversation none too far away and making no effort to hide themselves. There was a particular sign that made Aryia's attention shift from idle eavesdropping to full on glaring daggers. She rolls her sleeves up and cracks her knuckles, a dull sound over the noise of the docks. On her wrists is warped skin from old abrasions. Riiiight where manacles sit.

The Mul smiles a little at the Xian man, signing eagerly. "You're a good client, I can get you whatever you want."

The crow lets out a soft sound, and the Xian man turns toward the river, quickly signing something that is invisible due to his body being in the way and the Mul startles, looking around and quickly rushing off down an alleyway while the Xian man shakes his head and turns away from the river at last. He's a young, handsome looking man with the weight of years in his eyes that's odd for someone who doesn't look much over twenty.

The sith-makar was growing closer. Perhaps it was some twist of luck, but the heavy mist worked both ways, obscuring the silverscale somewhat as she approached. Not enough to stop them from being noticed completely, however. And they reached the man, offering a wave.

"Peace on your nest, the person with you appears to have taken off rather quickly. Is everything alright?" They ask, difficult to read due to their neutral sounding voice.

Aryia wasn't going to let a problem come up again. And there was never, ever going to let herself get swept away like she did. She watches the mul go, the dock worker grinding her teeth as he scurried away.

Boot falls approach on the opposite flank of the Xian man, knowingly closing in with Seyardu. She glances towards the silverscale once her vision clears, but she gets the human's attention with a small whistle.

A rugged mul'neissa woman with a scowl on her visage moves her hands in sharp motions and gestures, a hint of hostility wafting from her. "You have twenty seconds to explain your slave discussion," the, very clearly, ex-slave gesticulates. <Handspeech>

The man pauses almost politely, watching with one eye as Aryia circles him. "Peace on your nest." Is his response to the sith-makar, his voice only slightly accented. "Some people dislike their conversations being spied upon." The response is slightly dry, and he takes a step to continue on his way when Aryia whistles to draw his attention. As she does, the raven wings its way to his shoulder, keeping an eye on Seyardu while he turns his attention to the mul'neissa woman behind him.

He offers her nothing in the way of expression, not in his face, nor even in his voice when he responds to her signs with signs of his own - which unfortunately Seyardu can not see since his back is turned to her. "I will explain nothing." <Handspeech> "And much of the time, it is when someone has something to hide that they do not wish to be overheard, or so it seems here." The silverscale notes, crossing her arm and watching the crow. "Especially when one is mentioning slaves, and seems to run off immediately upon people getting closer. I know this Mul, and if you do not wish to be face down on the stonework, you should likely explain things to her. And I would wish to hear more, myself."

"Fuck off with that bullshit," she motions with a slap of one hand into another. "You should take that warning to heart, because I will die before those Charnese fuckers try again with their snatch and grab. And here you are have, talking to someone that can get you whatever you want with slaves as the topic." <Handspeech> 

The shadow elf jabs a finger up at them, anger etched in her face. "So you, I'm going to ask again, explain yourself before you piss off half the dock." <Handspeech>

Karasu does not move. Not to look at the sith when she talks, nor when the mul'niessa before him thrusts a finger up at him. He doesn't react to the anger in any expected way, not fearful nor defensive. This time when he talks, his hands motion along with, careful fluid motions that suggest a long use of Handspeech. "You do not know me. Nor I you. I owe you no explanation."

The Xian man looks at the mul woman seriously. "I do not know of any plot against you, but your threats mean nothing to me."

"And the fact that we do not know you is exactly why you owe an explanation." The sith-makar continues. "Unless you would prefer to give your explanation to the town guard as to why you were discussing slaves in a secluded, hard to see area, and why the person with you ran off the moment we got closer. I am inclined to escort to you the guards regardless, as I am not sure if I would trust your explanations fully at this point anyways."

GAME: Aryia rolls will: (9)+5: 14

The accusatory, mute mul's face grows red in frustration. It looks as if she was about to lash out. But a sudden moment of clarity comes across her face. And it washes away. "You know what? You're right. You don't owe me anything. But your contact, I know his face. And I know most of the dock. But if you're buying slaves, they're gonna need a source. And that means you might end up getting me caught. So I might end up paying them a visit." <Handspeech>

Despite the mul's size, she grabs him by the collar, pulls him down to her level with trained strength, and cocks a fist back. "Talk. Or bird break," she threatens with small movements of her ready fist. <Handspeech>

"Speak plainly and openly, or do not speak. I am still here." The silverscale replies, almost growling slightly. "There are people in the guard who would trust my accounts." 

"Aryia, if you injure him, anything they say afterwards will hold little value. And what we say will be harmed as well. If you attack him, I will have to stop you, or heal him afterwards. But I do not blame you with how uncooperative they are being."

"- d-n't g-v- - sh-t," she hisses and pops at the sith-makar. The pugilist's arm twitches as the bird takes flight. She rolls her eyes, adjust her target, and launches a blow.

Calloused knuckles halt a mere inch away from breaking jaw as she her ear twitches from soft spoken words. Whatever it was that was said, she scrunches her face, looking like she really wants to beat an answer out of him. But she releases them. And drops her fist.

"Fine. Be there. If not..." <Handspeech>

What followed after that was her pointing at where the contact was, her gesturing picking them up, and then her punching the air where they would be with an arrow fast fist.

When he is released, Karasu steps backwards. "As you will." He says softly, then with a glance at the sith-makar he walks away. Unless the sith moves to stop him, he will be gone in a matter of moments, the crow flying through the skies in his wake.

"Just think of the consequences. As much as I do not like it, there is very little for us to go on at the moment. While their silence speaks volumes, there is not enough, and I do not wish for you to be punished for their sake." Seyardu sighs. She almost looked like she wished to stop them, but instead she just shook her head. "Seems as if you came to some sort of agreement." They continue. "What was said? Since they seemed to ignore the fact that I was present for the most part, I would hear your words. I would still rather have things handled by the guards, but I will stand by your choice."

Aryia purses her lips as the man walks off, legs tensing and wanting to rocket off after them. She stares off in the mist as the silverscale speaks. "Guards can't solve everything, Seyardu. What are they going to do? It's your word against his. Slavers deserve to get their faces broken in, not go through the broken legal process that lets them off the hook. You have to take matters into your own hands." <Handspeech>

She huffs, and trembles, the adrenaline waning. "Not here. Let's go someplace else," she jabs a thumbs over her shoulder, glaring at the direction the Xian man went. <Handspeech>

-End