⟪ This may seem out of nowhere, but she has been thinking this one over for a little while, and considering the things she is teaching him –– well, some might not take it quite so well.
Besides, someone did threaten to kill him in some sense of the word.
So, what she slides him across the table are two small pouches, recently sewn, one with an approximation of a flame sitched into it, the other blank. ⟫
One of these powders snuffs out flame. ⟪ Her eyes flicker to his lantern, her lantern, whichever is closest. ⟫ The other chokes any who were to breathe it in.
⟪ Obviously, she hasn't given him all she has, but it's good for a few uses each. ⟫
[ It's not an olive branch, but then, Nate doesn't know what it is. As much as he hates it, he's trying to take the high road. ]
found a museum northwest of the town. half romanesque, half modern thing with a creepy sculpture garden out front. tons of stuff in the different halls.
[ This is what he'd come here to talk about, isn't it. The end was a disaster with a capital D for Drake, the middle had been a tangled maze of back and forth and dead ends and new approaches and a hell of a lot of jaw grinding, but the start... Rafe chews the inside of his cheek, eyes locked onto the glass he keeps setting round and round on the table. The start hadn't been all bad. He takes a deep breath. ]
Fresh out of college, I hear about this guy making the rounds, sniffing for money to back an expedition. Everybody on the scene brushed it off, said it wasn't worth the time — a total scam, you know? But I went ahead. Figured it couldn't hurt anything just to hear him out. And he tells me about Henry Avery.
[ It's impossible to hold back the excitement, the match struck and tossed on a pile of coals that haven't stopped burning for fifteen years. He can't help the way it builds with every word, hands coming to life as he gestures, articulating his point. ]
Avery wasn't in the business more than a couple years total but what he managed in those couple years was... [ A breath of a laugh that underscores the massive understatement to come. ] Substantial. And the biggest score he made off with was the Gunsway haul. Stray Mughal ships on pilgrimage to Arabia, loaded down with millions in treasure, and he makes off with everything. [ Not at all nicely, but he doesn't need to share that. Either Gene's enough a student of history to fill in the blanks of piracy or... Well. Rafe isn't about to detail the depravity Avery was capable of. ] The whole of the Western world turns out everything they've got to find him, the most wanted man alive, and—
[ Rafe snaps his fingers. ]
Vanished. Three hundred years later and nobody ever found him or a penny of the plunder he took with him.
[ A conspiracy nut's wet dream. A treasure hunter's ticket to punch. And Rafe, needing neither antipsychotics or money, found a cause. ]
But this guy— He says he's got a lead. All he needs is enough scratch and pull to get a foot in the door and from there... Fortune and glory, there for the taking.
[ ...Rafe isn't sure if Nate is fucking with him or not, and he doesn't want to ask in case the answer is— Well. Either. Either answer would be embarrassing in being told it so.
Moving on. Because honestly the idea of Nate getting any extra innate firepower is fucking terrifying. ]
Another... You know. [ His eyebrow arches in the dark, at the greater dark that seems to make up the kid's everything. Certainly explains why it was freaking impossible to get a bead on her before. ] Magic type, or whatever the hell it is you've got going on.
[ It's like walking through a comic book store around here, swear to god. ]
I asked to learn. Be pretty stupid not to pay attention after that.
[ He's turning them over in his hands, the wrinkles at the corner of his eyes emphasized as he squints, searches for any discrepancy between the two. Would continue the inspection if not for the hand on his cheek very purposefully drawing him up and away.
The touching is still strange, the frequency and the softness of it without an aim to drop their clothes (not right now, at least) but Rafe once again writes it off to the difference in time, in world, in the everything odd and mismatched between them. A short sigh through his nose is all the response he wants to give, but she is the teacher. She knows what he doesn't. The question warrants an answer, and so he will. ]
Sleep isn't that great a gauge around here, [ he points out. The constant dark fucks with that something fierce, no matter how one sticks to routine. As for the rest, he shrugs. ] And I'm pretty sure "mortal" is out the window given the current setup.
[ Okay, so she's the teacher. Still doesn't mean he's about to start wringing his hands over a possible drawback that hasn't cropped up yet. ]
[ He's never said it, never had anybody to say it to, but that had been his own thinking. Suits of plate and embossed shields, the blades from bygone eras with jewels in the pommel and runnels to the hilt. Weapon to match the wielder, steel wielding steel. A small smile comes and goes at her statement, at the knowledge of a choice made correctly and for the recognition of such.
But then the smile twists into a smirk, the quiet of the moment shifting to more familiar amusement. ]
Sure, call it a trade. Shadowbinding for gunplay. [ Though who knows when there'll be a spare piece to go around. There's the crow saying he can supply but who knows whether he'll actually follow through. If it's not in on anything, Rafe would have to assume they'd have armed themselves and done something long before this; if he is, last thing Rafe would think it'd would want was the locals getting firepower. ] But it's got a decent range — around fifty yards.
[ ...Wait. Rafe squints out in the dark, picking out a landmark. ]
From here to the Invincible. That's a stretch for some people, though. I can manage closer to double that with decent light to aim by.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
@priestess ⟪ voice ⟫
I shall be heading into the woods to feed some spirit or other.
@dysmas :// voice;
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@dysmas :// voice > action;
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(( the inbox is where physical items go, right ))
⟪ This may seem out of nowhere, but she has been thinking this one over for a little while, and considering the things she is teaching him –– well, some might not take it quite so well.
Besides, someone did threaten to kill him in some sense of the word.
So, what she slides him across the table are two small pouches, recently sewn, one with an approximation of a flame sitched into it, the other blank. ⟫
One of these powders snuffs out flame. ⟪ Her eyes flicker to his lantern, her lantern, whichever is closest. ⟫ The other chokes any who were to breathe it in.
⟪ Obviously, she hasn't given him all she has, but it's good for a few uses each. ⟫
SOUNDS LEGIT
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@priestess // << voice >> // private
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@drake ◆ text ◆ post-museum finding
found a museum northwest of the town. half romanesque, half modern thing with a creepy sculpture garden out front. tons of stuff in the different halls.
thought you might want to know.
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[ This is what he'd come here to talk about, isn't it. The end was a disaster with a capital D for Drake, the middle had been a tangled maze of back and forth and dead ends and new approaches and a hell of a lot of jaw grinding, but the start... Rafe chews the inside of his cheek, eyes locked onto the glass he keeps setting round and round on the table. The start hadn't been all bad. He takes a deep breath. ]
Fresh out of college, I hear about this guy making the rounds, sniffing for money to back an expedition. Everybody on the scene brushed it off, said it wasn't worth the time — a total scam, you know? But I went ahead. Figured it couldn't hurt anything just to hear him out. And he tells me about Henry Avery.
[ It's impossible to hold back the excitement, the match struck and tossed on a pile of coals that haven't stopped burning for fifteen years. He can't help the way it builds with every word, hands coming to life as he gestures, articulating his point. ]
Avery wasn't in the business more than a couple years total but what he managed in those couple years was... [ A breath of a laugh that underscores the massive understatement to come. ] Substantial. And the biggest score he made off with was the Gunsway haul. Stray Mughal ships on pilgrimage to Arabia, loaded down with millions in treasure, and he makes off with everything. [ Not at all nicely, but he doesn't need to share that. Either Gene's enough a student of history to fill in the blanks of piracy or... Well. Rafe isn't about to detail the depravity Avery was capable of. ] The whole of the Western world turns out everything they've got to find him, the most wanted man alive, and—
[ Rafe snaps his fingers. ]
Vanished. Three hundred years later and nobody ever found him or a penny of the plunder he took with him.
[ A conspiracy nut's wet dream. A treasure hunter's ticket to punch. And Rafe, needing neither antipsychotics or money, found a cause. ]
But this guy— He says he's got a lead. All he needs is enough scratch and pull to get a foot in the door and from there... Fortune and glory, there for the taking.
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[ ...Rafe isn't sure if Nate is fucking with him or not, and he doesn't want to ask in case the answer is— Well. Either. Either answer would be embarrassing in being told it so.
Moving on. Because honestly the idea of Nate getting any extra innate firepower is fucking terrifying. ]
Please tell me she didn't teach you anything.
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Another... You know. [ His eyebrow arches in the dark, at the greater dark that seems to make up the kid's everything. Certainly explains why it was freaking impossible to get a bead on her before. ] Magic type, or whatever the hell it is you've got going on.
[ It's like walking through a comic book store around here, swear to god. ]
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I asked to learn. Be pretty stupid not to pay attention after that.
[ He's turning them over in his hands, the wrinkles at the corner of his eyes emphasized as he squints, searches for any discrepancy between the two. Would continue the inspection if not for the hand on his cheek very purposefully drawing him up and away.
The touching is still strange, the frequency and the softness of it without an aim to drop their clothes (not right now, at least) but Rafe once again writes it off to the difference in time, in world, in the everything odd and mismatched between them. A short sigh through his nose is all the response he wants to give, but she is the teacher. She knows what he doesn't. The question warrants an answer, and so he will. ]
Sleep isn't that great a gauge around here, [ he points out. The constant dark fucks with that something fierce, no matter how one sticks to routine. As for the rest, he shrugs. ] And I'm pretty sure "mortal" is out the window given the current setup.
[ Okay, so she's the teacher. Still doesn't mean he's about to start wringing his hands over a possible drawback that hasn't cropped up yet. ]
But no. I haven't noticed anything.
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[ He's never said it, never had anybody to say it to, but that had been his own thinking. Suits of plate and embossed shields, the blades from bygone eras with jewels in the pommel and runnels to the hilt. Weapon to match the wielder, steel wielding steel. A small smile comes and goes at her statement, at the knowledge of a choice made correctly and for the recognition of such.
But then the smile twists into a smirk, the quiet of the moment shifting to more familiar amusement. ]
Sure, call it a trade. Shadowbinding for gunplay. [ Though who knows when there'll be a spare piece to go around. There's the crow saying he can supply but who knows whether he'll actually follow through. If it's not in on anything, Rafe would have to assume they'd have armed themselves and done something long before this; if he is, last thing Rafe would think it'd would want was the locals getting firepower. ] But it's got a decent range — around fifty yards.
[ ...Wait. Rafe squints out in the dark, picking out a landmark. ]
From here to the Invincible. That's a stretch for some people, though. I can manage closer to double that with decent light to aim by.
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