[Junk XIII] Market Day (J 7-4)

edited December 2013 in Junkworld XIII

It's a cool morning as you and Parfait head to market. Last night wasn't quite as romantic as you'd probably hoped. Topps ended up sobbing for a while, then Parfait slipped out of your bed and held her until she went back to sleep. Its affected Parfait's mood this morning, too. She's more withdrawn than she was last night.

Evidently Ro met up with some people last night. At about the third transition, he and a gaggle of folks came into his room, singing, playing music and chattering. He slept in, but he didn't sleep alone. Evidently, he "got lucky".

Did you make Tops come with you, or leave her in the room? Did you wake up Ro, since he'd certainly make selling stuff easier?

What is this market like? Sprawling or regimented? What catches your eye first?


  • I know Topps' grief is affecting Parfait, but I suppose helping Topps is good practice for when our Son comes along... With any luck, the doctor at the Ascendant will be able to help her cope with these stresses a little better. I asked Topps to come along. Some cool morning air, and the sights and sounds of the market might help take her mind off things. I woke Ro up as well, with the promise of coffee if he came along.

    The market here is a colorful display of various textiles and artistic creations. It is something rich people can afford to do — make art. It is a regimented set of alleyways just outside the homes of various people. There is a section more open in the core of the alleyways, but it is difficult to get a spot to sit with your display.

    I saw a beautiful dress, hand crafted silk, that I think would look absolutely stunning on Parfait. I also saw some matching scarves and cold-weather jackets that would suit her quite well in the coming months. The seamstress, a young lady no older than me, is quite talented.

  • Topps grins despite herself at the fabrics and colors. It draws Parfait in, too. They chat about the items on display, even grab a few things to look at, pose with, before handing them back and giggling. The merchants are aggressively polite, strongly angling towards a sale, but they aren't as pushy as the folks in Oasis, that's for sure.

    Ro is hanging back, chatting with you, "How was your night, Jack?" He waits politely for your response, then tells you about the amazing luck he had at craps, and how he brought two servers back to his room.
  • Ah the leading question... I can all but hear Ro's mind screaming at me to ask him how his night went. Who am I to deprive him of his pleasure? "It was peaceful. Restful, once we all settled down. Yours?" I'll listen attentively, as I always do, about his escapades at the table, and how two women desired his luck to rub off on them... While doing that, I see about getting us a place to sell some of Parfait's jewelry. I may be able to land a few deals while I'm at it.

    If there is anything that particularly catches Parfait or Topp's eye, I will buy it for them — how often do you come to a market like this, after all?
  • edited December 2013
    You end up purchasing a little earring that Topps tries to talk you out of buying for her. The metal bit at the end reminded her of the microphone they use. "They" gives her a brief pause.

    Ro chats with a few merchants about some place for you to set up. By noon, you've got a piece of a table and chairs and you're hawking some things. Ro is hanging around, he mentions that he'll help business.

    Why don't you roll Moonlighting?
  • OOC: Moonlighting here! Working 1 gig (honest work). Roll+Cool.
    (Rolled: 2d6+1. Rolls: 4, 1. Total: 6)
  • OOC: Burning my last bond to make that a 7. Taking 1-barter.

    Did you know Gala's little mockery of Parfait and I inspired Ro to keep a little memento of him? He asked to take her picture with an old Polaroid camera, making that face. He had no use for it, and so Parfait asked for the photo. She made turned it into the centerpiece of a lewd pendant. I find the piece to be both empowering, and revolting in a single breath. It would appear someone else in Trench agreed.

    I was insistent that Topps have the earrings — physical objects like that are a connection to our memories. A little tangible reminder of things that are important to us. Everyone has a trinket or two... Topps should have one too.
  • You're able to sell off some items and pull in a barter for your trouble. There's a kid who tries to nick your stuff just after lunch when folks come by in bigger groups and clusters. What did you do?

    As the market day winds down, Ro asks, "You wanna go back to The Cellar? I'm hitting the craps tables myself. Topps, wanna come with me?"

    Topps seems interested, but she looks to you and Parfait. What do you do?
  • I told the young boy no amount of jingle he could steal from us would afford him his sister back. It was the truth — Proper is a reasonable man; but last I spoke to her, Silk had paid off her contract and was staying of her own free will.

    I turn to Parfait, "I've horrible luck for gambling, and won't be risking any jingle tonight... but if you're interested in going, I can be convinced."
  • Parfait looks over at Topps, then you. She leans in and nibbles on your lower lip, hovering close to your mouth, looking into your eyes for a moment, "Convinced?"
  • I'm reasonably certain that had the opposite of Parfait's intended effect... "Well," I whisper, coyly, "I may need some more convincing later, but I suppose you can color me interested for the moment."

    I look to Ro, "lead the way."
  • Topps makes an "Ooooo!" sound and Parfait seems confused until she puts two and two together.

    Ro chuckles, "You two are dorky, but cute." He leads the way back to the hotel. Do you partake in a game of craps? I bet, with your mind reading, you'd be great at cards, right? Ever done that before?
  • I do not play cards very often for that reason — but I have, twice, used my gifts in such a way. The first was when I was particularly poor, and in need of food. I gambled my iPod against a man who was particularly rich — he could stand to lose a little bit of jingle, I suppose, and was more interested in the theatrics of it all. The second, was more personal...

    I'd watched a man walk into a bar with his family's last scraps, hoping to land enough money to keep his daughter out of slavery. He lost that last scrap to a drunken braggart who I am certain cheated.. Once the poor man left, penniless, I took a seat at the table and gutted his opponent for every single cent he was worth. I found the man, gave him his jingle back, plus the extra he needed, and walked out of that town never to be seen again. I don't regret it.

    I suppose I might lose some insignificant amount of jingle at the table, just to show Parfait what the game is like while we're there — but I'm more interested in that bottle of Jura Scotch on the top shelf.
  • Later back at the hotel room....

    You're lying on the bed with Parfait in your arms, lit only by the moonlight peeking through the balcony curtains, which she pulled because the party at Ro's seemed to continue forever, even swallowing Topps up in its tumult and frenzy.

    Even now, at the fourth transition, there is some music seeping through the walls, but at least it is more sedate, the conversations more civil to match.

    "Do not worry, Jack. We can take the Jurascotch back if you want." Parfait says quietly as she holds the cool bottle against the side of your neck.

    Who won it, you or Parfait? How did Ro convince Topps to come to the party?
  • Parfait won the scotch, of course. She decided to let a small sum of jingle "ride" — as Ro put it — a piece of jewelry she'd made with the intention of selling. Her discipline was impressive — she would carefully take her winnings and set them aside after every roll of the dice, and never let herself lose more than twice. After a few strategic bouts of doubling down, she'd made enough jingle that a poor man could survive a long time — and spent it all on that bottle of scotch cooling my neck.

    "Don't be silly, my dear!" I say with a smile, "you've earned that! After our son is born and weaned, we'll open it — perhaps on the anniversary of our union — and you can taste your spoils."

    I'm trying to ignore the music pounding through the walls, though it's easier now than it was before. Topps is DJing a private party for Ro, you see — it's how he convinced her to join him in his room. She's moved on to ballads, and slower, more emotional pieces. I would imagine she's coming off the high of the evening. I wonder if Topps will return to Salt when she's done... She is very talented with music — she has a keen ear for it.

    "We should be moving on from Trench shortly — especially given the promise I made to have Topps back before long... Did you enjoy your stay here, my dear?"
  • "Will you drink it with me, husband?" she asks, her eyes gleaming slightly in the moonslight.

    On the subject of Trench, she answers, "It has been peaceful. I am glad we came here, sad for Topps and the death of her father... but most concerning is finding Robin. Do you know where to find him? And do we kill him?"
  • Will I drink this extremely rare, and amazing tasting scotch with her? Yes. Yes, I believe I will. I smile back at her, "you know I will, and it will be made all the sweeter by drinking it with the woman I love." I run my hand over her cheek, and kiss her lovingly to accentuate the thought.

    Finding Robin will likely not be an issue under the proper circumstances... I only wonder if we'll have the advantage when we do. "Robin has been raiding on the road between Cat and Oasis — it is a three day stretch by car that is reasonably isolated. Given the proper resources, and time, I could likely find him... I am not much of a hunter, though — I have not needed to track anything in quite some time."
  • "If he is between Cat and Oasis raiding, then we will hunt him together." Parfait says with utter confidence. "I could wear the paint and walk among them, if it would help. I could cut his throat in his sleep." She says these things casually, not in a blood-thirsty way, simply offering options.
  • I frown discouragingly and shake my head, "I would rather you never wear that horrid paint again, my dear... You may have been taken by the tribe at a young age; but in my eyes, you are not one of them... If we are going to do this, then I would rather we do it without masks or delusions — we are doing this as people of the flats." I search her face, "does this bother you? That I view you in such a way?"
  • Parfait turns to put the bottle on the side table, then slips into your arms, looking up at you as her hands roam your body softly, "I am no longer a Wendy, my lover. I will never be a person of the Flats, this I know." She says this calmly, stating it as fact. "Like you, I am both, but neither. I am something different. An outsider."

    She leans in to nibble your lower lip, "I have you. It is all I need."
  • I smile when she starts biting my lip... I have been with many women who have left me when some truth surfaces about my past, or my gifts, and I have always been heartsick with the results. I fear most that I hold some false image of Parfait, and that something will surface that turns my understanding of her on its head — and I will treat her the way I have been treated. As a result, I am constantly second-guessing my opinion of her. Learning her. And loving whatever I find.

    This offer to wear the paint again, I understand it — it is logical and imaginative, which is something I love about Parfait — but it is also something I have not reconciled entirely... Parfait wore the paint. She did what I would not — could not — do, out of necessity. She did it to survive, and I imagine she would do it again. It is important to me that she never wear that vile warpaint again. Not that I suspect she would if I asked her not to — but rather because it represents a part of us that I reject. I can be the son of a Wendy, and wed to a woman who wore the paint —but I refuse to be a man who wears that paint. I refuse to pretend I am like that. The idea of it revolts me.

    I am glad, to be sure, that she accepts we are outsiders of both peoples — and I know we borrow from both cultures — but discovering what our culture looks like... That is something I haven't considered. "You know," I whisper as she nibbles at me, "I wonder if there are people who are more like us than I imagined... Vagrant observers, and lovers. People like Ro who might travel with us... Appreciate the same things... See the world... I would very much like to make our place in the world, rather than try fitting between two different ones. How would you build it?"
  • edited December 2013
    "Ro is like us, yes," she agrees as she pushes you onto your back and continues nibbling at your lips, moving to your chin, then down your neck. She moves to straddle you, still clothed, but just barely.

    Parfait rises up, a hand on your chest, looking down at you with her hair over one eye, "I want a home, on the road between places, Jack. A place where people travel through, but they are wanderers, like you. Like me. None to tell us who we are, but ourselves. That would be our home. Our son's home. Our children's.... how many do you want? I am fit, I can give you more, Jack."

    As you consider an answer, she bends down to nibble at you again, her hands roaming with some insistence now, she wants to prove she is strong for you, that she desires you.

    What do you do?
  • A woman after my own heart.

    Well, considering I do not yet have a child, and the few children I have been trusted with were Wendy children, I'm not entirely certain... To be honest, I had never really considered having children as a possibility. I had always wished that I could find someone who would enjoy travelling as much as I do, and starting a life on the road, having children, and showing them the world. I'm not sure a life on the road is really conducive to having many children, but I had always hoped I could have a few before my time is through.

    Of course, that may be neither here nor there — considering it's possible I already have children, apparently.

    I watch her work her way down my neck, and whisper, "I'll take as many as you're able and willing to give — especially given how skilled you are at making them. I should look into a larger vehicle for our family. Perhaps something mobile. We could live our lives as nomads – seeing the world, birthing beautiful saviors of mankind..."

    I pull her into a passionate kiss, and gently start removing her clothes, "how many do you want?"
  • "A trio of young savages would please me." Parfait replies with a grin between kisses, pulling open your clothes to get at your flesh, alternatively nibbling and gorging on the taste of you.
  • I could see myself with three children. I smile back at her, and shake my head playfully. "Our children will not be savages, my dear – not with a mother as strong as you, and a father who can read their minds before they can even begin to misbehave."

    I look away, feigning deep thought, "I suppose I could have three... I may need some practice mind you, to ensure I don't forget how to make them." I grin coyly, and gently run my fingers down her neck to play with her breasts. I'm sure Topps and Ro would enjoy sleeping in tomorrow... We can afford some time to ourselves.
  • Parfait reaches down to slip you inside herself while grinning down at you. "Practice sounds fun. You know we cannot make more right now, so learn well. And careful with my breasts, they like your hands now, but be gentle, my lover."

    --END SCENE--
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