Divale, Ryott


Ryott reports into Divale again on her ongoing surveillance, and finds out this will be the last time.


It is sunset of the tenth day of the fifth month of the fourteenth turn of the 12th pass.


Rooftops, Igen Weyr

OOC Date 30 Jun 2018 04:00


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"Why does that sound so final? Is our business at an end then?"


If you can find the handholds to haul your way up - and there are plenty, if you know where to look - then there is a hidden highway of tile and adobe that waits for knowing travellers to tread its path.A road best travelled by those sure of foot and able to stomach the occasional leap between buildings without falling victim to vertigo, the rooftops represent a quick and possibly convenient way of travelling about the bazaar; though don't be surprised if there's the odd shady opportunist willing to take a risk this high above what law lies below.

The view from up here is spectacular; rooftops, sun-bleached, weathered, beaten by time, spread like an uneven patchwork quilt from here to the very borders of the bazaar. Some flat, some tiled, some frequented and some abandoned - it's not unusual to find the odd potted garden, stored goods or even a precious chicken coop, locked down to protect the feathered denizens within its thread-protected casing.

The sounds of the bazaar are muffled, the scents blissfully so too, making it a potentially pleasant little getaway for those in need of a little peace and quiet to observe the skies, to travel the high walkways, or to simply soak in some of Rukbat's rays.

It is the fortieth day of Spring and 91 degrees. It is overcast and cloudy.

From up here, the spring sunset is beautiful to behold as it paints Igen's skies in fiery colors as night encroaches. Only it wasn't the view that brings one lone figure to this deserted patch high above the Bazaar. As shadows gradually lengthen, Divale quietly lurks and waits. On the surface, she is cold in her expression, unreadable in her patience from where she rests. Her inner thoughts, however? Turmoil. Which will make her temper unpredictable, but for now she keeps a solid grip on her control. Events are unfolding at last; her coded, secret messages between herself and Cascabel leading to an unexpected turn that had the Wingsecond seething but eventually heeding to twisted logic. What has brought her here is only a fraction of her current hidden agenda. Divale's here to merely check in for one last report, before things truly set in motion.

Silent as a shadow, Ryott slips almost automaticallly over the rooftops towards her meeting with Divale. It's a good thing her feet seem to be taking her there all on their own, because her thoughts are turn inward, going over the information she'd garnered about the Spice Merchant since they last met, a slightly troubled crease forming between her dark eyebrows. Things had taken a turn, and the spyling has a feeling, deep in her gut, that something is going on, but nothing more concrete as that. She'll need to be careful to school herself so she doesn't reveal these worries to the brownrider. There's still some missing piece of this whole puzzle she hasn't found yet, and it's been nagging at her. When she finally comes up to where Divale is waiting for her, she finally steps out of the shadows and walks towards her in that unhuried adolescent gait of hers. "Evening," she deadpans simply, shoving her hands into her pocket and waiting expectantly.

"Evening." Divale returns in an equally flat and dry tone from where she continues to perch, untroubled by the thought of moving; she'll let Ryott come to her instead. Her gaze, at least, shifts from the skies to the young girl's face and from the way her head eventually tilts, the spyling has succeeded in masking her true thoughts. "Shall we?" Like before, no beating around the bush or any barbed exchanges. Make no mistake, this "familiarity" is not forgiveness in any form for Ryott's blunders before. They have business to conduct and so business will be attended to first.

Ryott walks within a casual talking distance of the brownrider and bobs her head in aquiescence to her simple question. She doesn't mind getting right to the point, ever the professional this one, as she clears her throat slightly before starting, "Well everything was going as per usual. Regular meetings with his various associates, same kind of business deals. Evenings sometimes spent in the Pit." Her narrative starts off very similarly to other reports given on this very rooftop. "But I'd say the last seven or so, he's been been missing meetings and it's starting to wear nerves thin with the less savoury characters he deals with. And when I do see him, he looks rather…unwell," she finishes with the barest hint of uncertainty. "I think there's something wrong with him." She doesn't mention that she's been secretly keeping an eye on Cascabel as well, always in diguise, and the woman had the same strange palor. Unbidden a brief flash of worry darkens her brown eyes, but she quickly reins it in and continues, "I don't know how much of his 'side-businesses' he'll be able to maintain if he doesn't get it together soon, his associates are restless."

Silence hangs thickly once Ryott has delivered her report and it will be the dry scuffed sound of her boot shifting on the grit covered rooftop that breaks it. Divale's posture straightens, her eyes narrowing beneath a heavy frown that betrays nothing but it's usual neutrality. She can deadpan just as good, here. If there is one thing that isn't feigned, it will be the thoughtful frown that follows as she absorbs this confirmation; she does, of course, know the exact source. Yet it doesn't keep her from spinning an effortless lie. "Spring is known for its share of illnesses, as the seasons change. I wouldn't be surprised if he, along with so many others, have caught something." And her tone hints that she could care less, only there is a lingering thread there. "It would seem that his 'allies' are not true to the name, then?' Statement and question both, she quirks a brow to peer intently at Ryott. Is she asking the girl for her opinion? Perhaps.

There it is again. That warning twinge in the pit of Ryott's gut as Divale seems to easily explain away the source of the man's suffering. Too easily. But if it were some kind of bug, that could explain the man's wife being ill as well. The girl fights hard to keep her troubled thoughts from getting through her, carefully rendered, emotionless mask, a slight pulling of her lips downwards the only indication. With a slow nod, she shrugs her shoulders, "Yeah, you're right, could be any number of the bugs going round," her tone is kept as light as she can manage. As for the man's allies, she just snorts in spite of herself, and gladly gives her opinion, "They don't seem particularly loyal, no. As long as the money was coming in regular, they were fine. But now…it almost looks like they are being given the runaround by this particular merchant, and it's clear they aren't happy about it."

Too easy and too plausible; sometimes the truth IS the easiest answer! Unaware to Ryott's misgivings, Divale doesn't press further on the matter and perhaps that will come to bite her in the ass later. She's not at her best form, given that Cascabel's cryptic notes indicating she intended to fold herself into this "sickness" has gnawed at the brownrider for days. With no one to confide in, it has festered and it continues to do so now, with Ryott's report just confirming everything to further certainty. Not that she doubted her long lost sister, but to hear it from the mouth of another was necessary. "And so unravels his web," Divale mutters darkly from her corner. "He risks much by not assuring them in some way but that is beyond my concern at the moment." Another little bit of bait dropped, in hopes of nudging suspicions elsewhere; or perhaps the start of who will fall under 'scapegoat' territory. She keeps her gaze steady on Ryott, lapsing silent for a spell, until she speaks quiet but firmly: "Despite your mistakes, you've done decently well in attaining the information I requested."

"Right…" Ryott drawls slowly, her eyes subtly scrutinizing Divale for a moment before continuing, "Well, unraveling, they haven't completely washed their hands of them yet. And I'm not sure assurances are quite so comforting coming from someone who looks about to lose his lunch on his shoes." Again the girl offers her opinion rather freely before she blinks in surprise at the brownrider's last, one brow hiking speculatively. Decently? Her teenaged ego bristles at this but the girl holds her tongue, taking a moment to make sure she isn't going to say anything she regrets. "Why does that sound so final? Is our business at an end then?" she queries, letting her puzzlement for this turn of events lightly color her words.

Divale scoffs a bit for Ryott's free opinion on the current state of affairs between the target and the men he is involved with. Yet it's genuine amusement, rather than the pale shape of it; maybe grim and dark humor is to her liking! Sensing some change in the girl only brings a vague smugness about the woman. Never leave it past the brownrider to jab at one's ego! Especially if she feels she can get away with it so easily. "How perceptive of you!" she replies and with a decent amount of sarcasm. "Yes, this would be the conclusion of our agreement." Final and… not. "At least in regards to this target. Perhaps someday I will need certain… services once more." Divale lets it hang there, unfinished and not quite a solid promise.

Why now? is the thought that rings through Ryott's thoughts, feeding that knot in her stomach that talks to her of wrongness. From her pockets, she removes her hands, arms crossing her chest instead as her gaze narrows on the brownrider. The amusement Divale displays does nothing to reassure her, it actually might unsettle her just a little being so uncharacteristic. "Yeah, I figured my perceptiveness has been long since established," what with her numerous, detailed reports she's already delivered. With a dimissive shrug of her shoulder and a sigh, the teen doesn't look to be that bothered, "As you wish. There is still the small detail of my payment," she pauses significantly as she looks up, chin lifted defiantly, "I have a suggestion for that though…" beat. "A single favor to be asked by me of you at some point in the future. And no, before you ask, I won't ask you to do the impossible like get me out of trouble with the guards if they manage to catch me again." There's that ego making itself known.

"You wish to ask a debt-owed as your payment?" Divale's brows lift, her gaze lingering sharply on the girl in front of her before narrowing again. Suspicious? Maybe. It certainly puts her in a peculiar position and she takes a moment to consider it. Little does she know that her behaviour so far has only unsettled Ryott further ? again, she is not being as cautious as she ought to be. Whether she realizes that now or later remains to be seen. A dark look flashes over her features for that glimpse of ego (and a reminder), but soon she relaxes into a vague half-smirk. "Alright," she remarks quietly. "I'll accept the terms. Under one condition?" Her expression turns grim. "Whatever it may be that you ask of me in the future, just remember: I am a rider and thus bound to certain… rules I cannot bend too far. There are some lines I will not cross, if the risk is too great. Secondly, I've my own… interests here in the Bazaar and the Weyr and I will not chance a — ah, conflict of interest, we can say? Do you understand?"

"Precisely," Ryott answers when Divale questions her payment, "I can't think of anything I rather need right now," she elaborates with a shrug of her shoulders. Her own eyes are sharply taking in the brownrider's demeanor as she seems to think it over, not missing the dark flash in her eyes, but the spyling has gotten enough dark looks from the woman, that she's fairly immune to such a brief one. Although the meaning behind it registers loud and clear, even though her own criminal activities have been non-existant almost. Finally, when she accepts, it's all the girl can do to clamp down on her feeling of triumph, only letting her lips curl into the hint of a smile. "Of course, if there is something you can't or won't do, I'll understand," ever accomodating, that's Ryott. "Sounds like a deal to me then." And because their business is concluded, Ryott merely bobs her head, "Untill our paths cross again rider…" how soon that might be, who knows, but for now with one finally barely perceptible nod of her head in the brownrider's direction, she wanders off in the direction she came, slipping back into the darkest shadows as soon as she can manage.

It may be a lot sooner than either of them expect! Divale inclines her head, ever falsely-polite as she smiles that strange, vague smile of hers. "The deal is settled then. Until next time." No title given, as there is truly none to give to Ryott in this instance. One day perhaps she will learn the truth of who she is, but it won't be on this particular night. Leaving the girl to slip away first, Divale will linger behind for quite some time and well into nightfall with her gaze turned to the Bazaar below.

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