Wanna See My Pocket?

[Ashemir Draemis]

So, uh, rules, right.

1.) Let's go in order. If you don't know what the order is, it isn't hard: just look back to see who posts before and after you. Exception: if someone hasn't posted in give or take three days, feel free to skip them.

2.) Be awesome.

3.) It's an open thread, so yeah, just jump right in.

4.) I'll post first to get this ball rolling.

[Ashemir Draemis]

It was starting to fall into the time of late afternoon, and the merchants lining the market kept their smiles and pleasant business, but everyone was taking brief, unamused glances up at the sky to judge the sun's position. How much time would they have to finish errands, or close their stands, or enjoy their last ale for the day...

Ashemir wasn't one of those people keeping time, but then again, he didn't really have to. All he had to worry about were those wereanimals, and even then, he had practically doused himself in a spicy cinnamon perfume before he left the mountain to throw off their senses. To be found out would be inconvenient, to say in the very least. For now, though, he didn't feel particularly worried, so his sharp gaze passed over the sparkling trinkets that the merchants had laid out. Some of them even claimed that they had magical properties of protection. Haha.... If they were so good at protecting, why had Ashemir reclaimed several from the bodies of those he had drained? Now they were locked safely away for amusement's sake, and in all honesty they were quite lovely. The vampire left his hair spilled over his shoulder to unfurl down his chest, side by side with the chains that weaved through his clothing and attached to the bracelets on his wrists. Series of clinking sounds signaled any movement of his arms, one of which rose to idly comb his hair with his fingers as he strolled down the market street.

The waiting game was awfully dull...

[Gale Mellark]

The street was slowly growing quiet as the life was drained away with the day. The people were moving indoors as she shadows slowly enveloped the town. Gale sat alone on a creaky wooden bench as he watched the bags of flesh pass by, most glancing at him curiously. He leaned back against the wall, an arm outstretched to his side as if beckoning someone to fill the empty space.

The strong scent of mint clouded the usually flowered scent of his undead flesh in an effort to ward of suspecting were creatures. He had grown so accustomed to the smell, that occasionally he would not realize how thick he was applying the perfume. Today, it was just the right amount. Enough to ward of suspecting enemies, but also plenty to entice those attracted to his scent.

He lifted his head to the sound of chains clapping against each other, and immediately noted the thick cinnamon cloud that wafted to his nostrils. He thought about another of his kind, then shrugged it off. He wasn't hunting tonight, and was merely looking for something or someone to occupy his time. He wouldn't be able to leave for Cados until tomorrow after restocking his cart, so he was stuck here for the time being.

Throwing his head back, his long black hair fell behind him. The muscles in his neck pulsated with agitation, and he lifted a hand to rub them back to tenderness. This town was a bit irritating. He silently wished that a were creature would appear to make things exciting.

At this, he lifted his head to scan the street again. A woman with long black hair passed, glancing at him for a moment. A fire burned in his gut, but not with hunger. Instead, the flames raged with regret as he remembered how easily he would have given his heart to such a woman. How he actually had, once, and he now lived with the consequences.

[Ashemir Draemis]

Ashemir certainly wished that a werecreature would not show up. Losing his cover was something that he didn't intend to lose. Failing to blend in with humans in any way was something inexperienced, stupid vampires did, and he did not think himself inexperienced, and he certainly did not think himself stupid.

Suddenly the sharp scent of mint distracted him from whatever thoughts he wasn't hypothetically thinking. It smelled a bit sweet... but the natural scent was enough to make him wary, when werewolves and werecats were like walking forests. His long hair twirled behind him as Ashemir spun to pinpoint where the smell was coming from. It was down the street a ways...

He paused briefly, contemplating making his way over, just to see who it was. After several moments of weighing the advantages and dangers, he finally began making his way down the street, glancing each way discreetly every so often. Finally, when he passed by the spot in which the smell was the strongest, he chalked it up to the oriental looking man leaning against the wall and looking rather discontent with himself. Ashemir laced his fingers together and, while still adjacent to the man, started speaking to him, "Lively place, isn't it?"

[Caden Dellehart]

Caden browsed through the stalls, munching on a warm loaf of bread he had bought from the baker. The inside was soft and fluffy, the outside crust beautifully crisp. The taste, simple though it was, enchanted Caden just like magic. He laughed at the thought, really: imagine that he, Caden, who could control the magic of the winds as easily as blinking, be bewitched by the simple taste of fresh bread. It was ridiculously plausible, in a manner of speaking.

Anyone who knew Caden at all, or in fact probably anyone who had ever visited Riyer in the last three or four years, might have recognized Caden as the sparrer from Riyer. Well, that was true. He did willingly take on other people his age or younger in play fights or sparring matches occasionally. But today was special. Today was his birthday, so he'd come to buy himself a little treat. Having left his white horse tied to a post near Tiaelde's entrance, he now made pleasant, casual chatter with the local and traveling merchants. He had yet to purchase anything, unless you counted the loaf of bread of which was slowly depleting into nothingness, into his stomach.

At last his eyes rested upon a pretty little thing: a glass bottle with a rim of silver, sealed with wax and a silver cork. It was hung on a bronze chain, and in the bottle was some bit of sand from, apparently, the Yina; the sacred place of the werecreatures. He rolled it between his fingers, interested in this 'rare item'. Then he set it back down again, the merchant frowning. Caden smiled cheerily in response. "I'll take this please. For a birthday present."

Pleased at making some sort of sale, the vendor's smile returned to his face. "Of course! A birthday present, sir? My, how nice of you. A family member, sir? Well, since you seem the nice sort of lad, I'll give ye a special discount: instead of paying forty silvers like any other man, I'll just take twenty-three, thank you."

Caden nodded and dug in his pockets, placing twenty-three silvers in the man's waiting hand. "Thank you," he beamed, and took the trinket away. The initial plan had been to buy something and return home, but... something seemed to pull him here today. He didn't know why. He just felt like staying. Like looking around a bit more.

Perhaps to find something... odd.