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Mickey Flash

Lost and Found

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Pearl couldn't quite shake the melancholy feeling she had.  For weeks she'd been trying to cheer herself back up, but she wasn't quite sure what was making her feel so down.  She had recently been demoted from a general in the RB army to a nobody in Elendaron.  And she could understand how that might be a downer, but she's bounced back from worse set backs before.  Why did this time feel so different?  The only thing she could think of that was different is that she'd always had a plan of action before.  A place or thing to do if things didn't work out.  Now she had no plans, and the lack of purpose seemed to be the hardest thing for her to take. 

She motioned for the fairy to give her another shot of bourbon, and the tiny creature struggled with the bottle that was five times her size.  Why she didn't just make herself bigger, Pearl didn't know.  She watched with a bored look at the bottle almost tipped over and fell to the ground before the fairy got a better grip and poured the contents into her shot glass.  Her dainty fingers wrapped around the cold glass and as she looked down she could see the slight dusting of glittery dust on her skin.  The ticket to the Obsidian Tear was a spell used with fairy dust.  The stuff was a pain to get off once you left the train.  She'd ridden a few times, and the novelty of the treat of riding a magic train had wore off long ago.  She just used it for transportation now, and her ticket was a one way trip to nowhere. 

The outfit she'd decided to wear on her trip to nowhere and nothing was a filmy dress and thigh high boots.  There were two purposes for the short skirt and long boots.  Besides the fact that it made her figure look awesome and was sexy as hell, it also managed to hide a number of weapons on her person.  She didn't feel comfortable travelling anywhere without quite a few guns, knives, or even a sword.  Of course, she was trained to also make a weapon out of anything within her sight.  And she had her own abilities to top the lethal cake off, but since it took a lot out of her to use her own gifts she relied heavily on the training she'd acquired.  Now she had no reason to have been trained.  No army to command.  No bad guy to take on.  And she wondered, not for the first time, what the purpose of it all was.

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In stark contrast to Pearl, Havel Strange was filled with purpose as he strolled through the half-crowded aisles of the Obsidian Tear. He wasn't on an adventure to nothing and nowhere. On the contrary, the ticket he had purchased made it abundantly clear where he was headed; the word LO'BRE was written in big bold script upon his receipt slip. It was a reminder of the explorer's mission, a quest that would bring fortune and fame to the daring spellsword. He was determined to keep his dangerous course, even if he had to brave the perilous journey on his own, and it seemed as if his road would surely be a lonely one. No one he had asked had agreed to come with or to spare any resources. Instead, he was admonished and even insulted for what was described as the naivete of a young mage. Fuck them, Havel reasoned with a roguish grin, opening the door to one train cart and crossing into the open space between carts. For a moment, he admired the landscape of Elendaron as the Obsidian Tear rolled past and the various geological features and objected of wonderment rolled by the mage's icy blue eyes. A few moments elapsed before Havel turned towards the opposite doorway and quickly made his way out of the windy connector and into one of the train's many barrooms. After hours looking over his notes and maps in his stateroom, the spellsword figured it was a good time for a break, which undoubtedly called for a drink by Havel's sensibilities.

That evening, the mage was dressed in his usual gentlemanly fashion, though the allure of a wizard was certainly in plain view. He wore a black dress shirt with a thin red tie, clipped to his shirt with a silverish ornament. Below, Havel was adorned in grey slacks and brown shoes. Over the entire ensemble, an open robe of rich blue covered the mage's tall form. The magical garment hung from Havel's broad shoulders, its billowing tail and sleeves dangling limply at his sides and back, and it flowed in ethereal fashion as he walked towards the bar. His eyes flashed to and fro, surveying his surroundings before settling on the fiery redhead who seemed to be totally and utterly alone. At first, Havel was quite skeptical, finding it unlikely that such a beauty would be alone and surely someone would return and sit by her side. In any case, it wasn't something that would have stopped the spellsword anyways. Keen nostrils sniffed at the air, picking up the woman's tantalizing perfume, but also catching onto an even more curious smell. Gun powder intermingled with the smell of lubricating oils; a sign that the woman was carrying firearms and regularly ran maintenance on the killing machines. It made the woman a curious thing, contrasting heavily against the backdrop of normal citizens and tourists.

Havel took a seat at a stool, seated two stools to Pearl's left. Hailing the diminutive bartender, the mage ordered a glass of a substance that sat in a large glowing container. A fey concoction that carried an intoxicating lemony taste, or at least the mage had read as much once. Soon after, a cool glass pressed against his sword-calloused hand; Havel regarded Pearl with a curious stare. "Oh my," the mage spoke suavely, covering his eyes as if blinded by some overwhelming light. "Do my eyes deceive me? Or did a star venture down to grace me with its sheer incandescence?"

@Mickey Flash

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Pearl was jolted from her musings by a comment thrown her way.  She had been leaning into her palm, staring into her glass, wishing for purpose and an army.  The comment from the nearby person brought her back to reality. 

"Huh?" she responded to his question.  It was not the most elegant response, but she wasn't known for that.  She didn't really care how lady-like she sounded or acted.  She was a general for goodness sakes.  She deserved respect for her ability to kick ass, and the thought of being admired for anything else didn't usually interest her.  She was aware enough to admire a pretty outfit, usually leaning more toward sexy/comfortable.  She wanted something that spoke of her dangerous tendencies, as well as battle ready.  She was aware of other people's clothing in the same way.  She looked to see how well they would be able to fight in them.  The man across from her seemed ready enough.  His cape could be a hindrance, because she could easily throw it in his face to where he couldn't see what was happening.  And his tie was a choking hazard waiting to happen.  But he seemed strong under the clothes, his body filling out the ensemble in all the right places.  She admired strength, though she knew that a man could be strong and still not know how to use it.  Her eyes narrowed on him, and wondered why he was addressing her.  Did he not see that she was a dangerous creature?  Did he not see that she could command armies?  Did he not see that she was dangerously bored?  Well, the last part made her have a new appreciation for the distraction he was causing.  And she decided that it wouldn't hurt to be a little social.

"A star, huh?"  She let the amusement show on her features, and her voice was a melody in smoothness.  Pearl considered her voice her best feature, mainly because its function was multi-purposed.  "Maybe.  But maybe I don't want to be referred to as a star.  Aren't they just balls of hot gas?"  Her voice held all the humor she felt at the thought of being called a hot ball of gas.  She took a sip of her drink as she widened her eyes and waited for him to stutter and walk away, or to come up with an appropriate save from such a blunder.  She might have no purpose, but that did not mean she would be an easy conquest. 

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