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Post by Askr Mimameith on Jan 26, 2023 2:13:54 GMT -5
It is not a common thing that Askr is sent on a mission alone solely because no one else is willing to go.
Coin is the first calling for most mercenaries; it is the song that sets them dancing, the birdsong that wakes them in the morning, the oasis that awaits them in the hardest stretches of the White Sand Sea. There are the strange sort who pick a merc's life because they crave the adrenaline and the rush of combat, or those who were simply born into it, but most of the ones Askr has met, both within and beyond the Ring of Cinders, answer to the clink of Solars above all. When one's morals are weighed against their coin-purse, the choice tends to be obvious each and every time-- even Captain Bleier, who Teth has said is one of the more morally sound merc leaders she's seen, won't turn her nose up at dirty work.
So it is a strange thing that not a single person within the Ring of Cinders-- not Aaranay, not Tethra or Ogma, not Ashe, not Oleeae herself-- took any interest in what seemed like a relatively simple mission. Find a scholar who had strayed too far up into Mount Drakolt, escort them back down, receive payment. In fact, each and every one of them had gotten an illegible look on their faces, the one that Askr thinks resembled exasperation, and groaned something to the same effect:
"Oh, Ginma's fuzzy horse ass, not this shit again."
"Another one? Another one?"
"Kid, for the love of the Gods, just don't bother. They're like moths to a damn flame."
But Solars were Solars, and it was illogical to ignore what seemed like a simple commission, and so up to Mount Drakolt Askr had gone, ignoring the chorus of agitation that had followed the decision. As difficult as faces are to read and emotions are to parse, even they had had no difficulty understanding the sheer aggravation their fellow mercenaries clearly held for the job. Rescues were not uncommon undertakings for mercenaries, if the pay was right, so it seemed unusual that this particular rescue would warrant such a reaction.
Ah, but Askr has never understood why people react the way they do, and they will not pretend to understand. That is not their concern right now, anyway-- what is their concern is getting up this mountain and finding this scholar. Alive, hopefully. One would hope the man in question did not boil himself already.
They take a few steps up one of the worn paths on the side, gold eyes dark with contemplation as they search for any possible sign of where this man could have gone. What could this man possibly have been researching, anyway...?
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Post by Issala 'Izzy' Arodre on Jan 27, 2023 2:21:30 GMT -5
The smell of sulphur and smoke was invigorating, wasn't it? Here in the Ash Lands, it was the enticing, alluring scent of money dipped in honey-- yes, the smell of success. If Izzy could bottle that and dab it behind her ears, she could be satisfied with just that her whole life, perfumed by her ill-gotten gains and blackmailing others.
And what could be a better source of such sweet, sweet coin than an over-confident, underprepared researcher hiking up the volcano to do gods knew what, and getting themselves into a precarious situation they had no way out of? There were a few that were easier, sure, but Izzy was never one to pass up coming across like a hero on the odd occasion; it helped out her business when the marketing was this good. Plus, it always gave her a fun story to tell, and it let her snicker at some poor nerd who prioritize books over clean drinking water and had wound up dehydrated from cholera. Only snicker, though. It was important to take the high road.
She had been here for another reason, but with that business -ahem- concluded, Izzy could devote a little spare time to this. Picking her way through the brittle scrub, Izzy poked around, looking for signs of tracks and movement that at least looked bipedal. A thin trail of smoke identified her location from where she had it lodged between her teeth. "Now, if I was a researcher, where would I beeee....." she contemplates out loud, wandering into the path a little ways ahead of someone else. Her burning coal like eyes lift to the person on the path, immediately lifting a hand in greeting, her rakish smile blooming across her bone-white face. "Heeey, what's good? You wouldn't happen to be a missing researcher, would you?" Izzy eyes them a moment, pulling the cigar from her lips to tap the ash off to the side. "Nah, you actually look capable of taking care of yourself. Name's Izzy."
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Post by Askr Mimameith on Jan 27, 2023 4:16:31 GMT -5
One of the last things Askr had expected to hear so quickly up upon this mountain was a voice.
They swivel immediately, reflexes swift and honed, hand flying to the hilt of their sword in one fluid motion, ready to draw it should it be necessary, but they pause as soon as they drink in the sight of the woman standing before them. She is the portrait of leisurely confidence; threads of smoke billow from the corners of her stretched-wide lips, teeth bared in an easy grin, eyes sharp and dark as charcoal still carrying the ghost of a flame, a promise that it has yet to burn out. A mane of wild, tight crimson curls spills down her shoulders, down her back, a lake of spiraling flame intercepted only by the twist of her horns, and her skin is white as ash, as bone. She is impossibly tall, standing well over a foot taller than Askr does, a cigar hanging loosely from her fingers, her posture calm and relaxed.
She does not behave as though she is wandering the side of a dangerous volcano. She walks and speaks as though this is a town square, or a market, and as though she has caught sight of an old friend instead of sauntering up to a stranger on the flame-licked sides of Mount Drakolt. It is curious. They are not sure if she is from here, if she is familiar with the lay of the Ash Lands. She certainly pretends to be, but it is a thin veneer.
Askr regards her with a tense stance and something illegible in those golden eyes. It is best to remain prepared.
"...No, ma'am," they answer simply with a brief shake of their head, only briefly moving to brush a sand-colored wisp of hair out of their face. Their voice betrays nothing. They know better than to tell a stranger too much, not unless the life of someone that matters is at risk; a comment about not even knowing more than the bare basics of how to read would be revealing too much. "I am no researcher. But I am... looking for one. You are, too?"
They falter briefly at the brazen way the lady introduces herself-- Izzy. Izzy-- short name, easy name, two syllables. She did not hesitate before giving it. She either fears nothing or did not think. Askr is not sure which it is.
"...Izzy," they parrot quietly, nodding to themself. "...Miss Izzy. I am Askr."
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Post by Issala 'Izzy' Arodre on Jan 28, 2023 19:53:46 GMT -5
Izzy's easy grin stretches a bit, though her eyes search this person ruthlessly. They are.... odd. The branches are one thing, their gold eyes and pearl-gold hair are very pretty, but something that doesn't especially read as exceptional. There is an odd precision, a quality that is, in many way's, Izzy's exact opposite. Where she was loose full of sharp corners, dust, flaws, this... Askr seemed like a cut gem, embedded in a platinum pocketwatch. She supposed it wasn't that weird to find gemstones near volcanoes, but when they were so clipped and trim, even in their voice, it was certainly a mark of interest. Though, maybe that was her sticky-finger instinct talking.
She snickers a little at being called ma'am. Faaancy. "Sure am! When people go missing, I'm the one you call!" Whether or not that was because she was usually a suspect was neither here nor there. Izzy sweeps into an ostentatious, flowing bow before Askr, her lips pulled in a broad smile as the smoke follows the trail of her hand. "Private investigator extraordanaire, Issala Arodre. Here for all your person and information seeking needs, whatever that may entail. Complete non-judgment guaranteed. Terms and conditions may apply, no refunds." She straightens back up, and jerks her thumb up the path, in the direction Askr was originally headed. "Pleasure to meet you. So, got any leads? I haven't found anything just yet, some patches of broken scrub, but not enough to point in a surefire direction. Thought the path might have more of a trail." She shrugs, gesturing broadly at the path they now stood upon. Her eyes land on Askr and the grin widens. "Saaay, I've got a swell idea. We should team uuuup, two heads are better than ooone, y'know? Whaddaya say?"
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Post by Askr Mimameith on Jan 28, 2023 22:05:40 GMT -5
At Izzy's claim, however facetious or not, that she is a private investigator, Askr only barely manages to conceal the slight narrowing of their eyes in what they believe must be skepticism, doubt rooting comfortably in the depths of their heart and branching freely from it. They are not well-versed with sarcasm, and they are not sure if they detect any dripping from her boisterous, singsong voice-- even so, it is... difficult to believe a woman like Issala Arodre, as she introduces herself, is a detective of any kind.
It is not as though Askr has met many. Investigators are... not especially common in Darkveil City; the few that find any work tend to lie extraordinarily low, keeping their work known to their employers and their employers alone as they take their notes and pass them on, lest the wrong person find out and spell a quick and unflattering end out for them. No private investigator or detective in their right mind would go around announcing their occupation in the Ash Lands-- not unless they wished to wind up in an ash-laden ditch, their throat slit and blank eyes left open to eternally watch the smoke billow across the charcoal skies.
Either this woman truly is not well-versed in the culture of Darkveil, or she is lying through her wolf-sharp teeth. Either way, Askr is on their guard, doubt as their shield.
"...Alright, Miss Issala," they say simply, nodding in respond to her offer, already turning to continue heading up the mountain. "...I have... not found much yet. But I was given a clear description and name for this scholar: her name is Viola Flamouria. She has... dark hair, and glasses, and... green eyes. She came up here to research what could be luring scholars up this way to begin with."
They echo the information they had been given carefully and easily, as though they had memorized it.
"That is all I know. But it should be enough."
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Post by Issala 'Izzy' Arodre on Jan 30, 2023 3:28:50 GMT -5
If Izzy notices the dubiousness with which Askr regards her, she does not at all indicate it, her smile never faltering. If she did notice, she would say that was a wise track to take; trusting anyone was risky business, trusting a perfect stranger was downright fool hardy. Not that Izzy was any stranger to the practice herself. Why else would she be proudly discussing her vocation with perfect strangers if she wasn't, A) an idiot, or B) extremely confident in her own ability, after all?
...It could be both.
Or, it was part of her own little shield; a forward facing, honest front that acted as a barrier to further investigation into her own person. In any case, she was having the time of her life. Finally, someone who seemed like they knew what they were doing!
An enthusiastic little hum reverberates from her throat as she takes a drag on her cigar, pleased to hear what Askr had gathered, particularly from the initial debriefing. Izzy remembered much of her own conversation with the researchers who hired people out, the name was familiar, but the almost ethereal looking person was clearly very adept at their role, rehashing it very succinctly and fully. Though the luring of the other scholars is new to her. Very interesting indeed.
"Yeah, that's plenty! You got a good mind for this stuff." There's a small pause as Izz thinks, lost in thought for a few moments. "That didn't come up in my debrief, that bit about the other scholars," Izzy admits easily, clearly non-plussed about her own lack of information. "I'm stopping through on another job and thought I'd help out before makin' the return trip back to Zeinav City. I mean, I figured people got lost up here often enough-- look at this place," she gestures broadly, sweeping her cigar-wielding hand to the world around them. "--But I wasn't aware it was a concurrent situation."
Clearly, at this point, Izzy was just thinking out loud, running from one thought to the next seamlessly, like skipping stones over a lake. Her ember eyes shift to Askr again. "Are you from the area? Any idea could be so fascinating here that multiple scholars made their ways up here just to need to be rescued? I mean apart from the view!" She gestures again at all the... ash. Grinning in total sincerity.
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Post by Askr Mimameith on Jan 31, 2023 19:15:52 GMT -5
Miss Issala Arodre is definitely not from the Ash Lands.
She looks like she is spun from smoke and flame, from the embers and ash born from the kiss of a flame, but the way she speaks, up to her own admittance that she is from Zeinav, makes it quite clear that she does not call these shrouded skies home. She seems largely unfamiliar with the land as a whole, which is... logical. One of the first lessons Askr had been taught when Captain Bleier took them in within the Devil's Ridge was the price of trust, and that no person in Darkveil carries enough coin to buy it. Loyalty can be purchased to a degree, but trust is not the kind of thing anyone can afford in that smoke-veiled city.
"...I know little of the matter myself," Askr says simply, because it is true. They do not entirely understand why there had been such a chorus of displeasure from the other members of the Ring, but it had indicated some level of... frequency with these sorts of disappearances. "Some... companions of mine said this mission sounded familiar, for one. I do not understand what they could be searching for, though. There is little to be found up on Mount Drakolt."
They keep a steady pace, continuing to walk up the side of the mountain, searching for anything out of the ordinary-- such things should not be difficult to see amidst the tapestry of dark earth, veins of flame the only thing to breach it. If Miss Flamouria was injured in any way, some trace should remain-- tattered fabric, shattered glass, blood. All the logical remnants of a scuffle should be in plain sight, and yet... nothing.
...odd.
"...I am from the area," they answer, finally, giving a short nod as they look around. "Darkveil. Ah, I have yet to see any signs of Miss Flamouria. She... must have ventured further up. Strange, and... worrying."
Just what was she looking for up there? Was she even truly lost?
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Post by Issala 'Izzy' Arodre on Feb 1, 2023 18:02:47 GMT -5
"Hmmm," Izzy hums, twiddling the fingers of her left hand as she mulls over Askr's words. Interesting that there had been people going missing frequently on the volcano, but the why had been elusive. "I'd figured it was because scholars don't know the first thing about wilderness training, but if there isn't actually anything super well known or noticable up here, then you make a good point. Why bother?"
Especially where so many had failed before. Izzy glances sidelong at Askr, quietly considering them as they walk. Trying to get a read on them was difficult. They did not seem to be the social type, which wasn't unusual, but most of the less sociable people Izzy was used to were aggressively so, the kind to tell you to piss off or just ignore her. Askr had done none of that, and had accepted her aid, such as it was, albeit a little warily. Which was fine, that just meant he had some good sense. So, open enough to accept help, but not particularly inclined towards chatter. Hmmmm.
"Ohh! You're a localll!" Izzy grins, "Very niiice, good place to get work. I figured maybe Capitol Landing, given your--" she gestures to Askr's branches? Antlers? "--lovely crown you're sporting there. That ever give you any trouble out here?" She asks, genuinely curious.
Though, as Askr identifies that going further up was strange and worrying, her brows arch. "Copper for your thoughts there, Quicksilver?"
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Post by Askr Mimameith on Feb 5, 2023 2:21:55 GMT -5
In all honesty, considering how much of their life has been spent beneath the earth, kept out of the stars' sight, Askr cannot definitively say that there is nothing of note up on Mount Drakolt. The Ash Lands are all they know, and yet, they still know little-- they know the information handed to them from months of mercenary's work, they know how to navigate around Darkveil City in relative silence, and they know the basics of trust. Still, as far as they are aware, there truly is nothing that would warrant such extensive research up on that volcano.
As far as they know.
"I do not understand it," they repeat, giving a small shrug of their shoulders. "People are advised to keep their distance from this place unless they truly believe they can navigate it. I find it strange that any scholar would come up here at all to begin with, let alone without someone to accompany them."
They stop in their tracks, briefly, raising an eyebrow just slightly at Izzy's comment about the ash branches adorning their hair, their fingertips moving to brush against silver-veiled leaves. In truth, not many people spare much of a comment for them-- they are pretty, yes, but hardly gilded, hardly valuable enough to catch anyone's eye. They are merely... there, their last connection to their creator, the final remnants of someplace they never knew.
"...No, ma'am," they say simply. "...These are... not worth anything. Not Solars."
How strange that she would assume these marked them as someone of note. Aesthetics are... not their strong suit, they suppose.
"Quicksilver...? Ah, well..." they continue, their focus settling back on the situation they're in, the mountain around them. "The... higher up the volcano you go, the more dangerous it is. I do not know how Miss Flamouria could have gotten that far unharmed, and I do not know what she could be looking for if she is that far up. We should... proceed with caution."
They let out another quiet sigh before continuing their walk up the mountainside, still glancing around for any sign of... anything.
"...Miss Issala, if you see anything you think might be odd, do not hesitate to mention it."
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Post by Issala 'Izzy' Arodre on Feb 6, 2023 13:23:46 GMT -5
Izzy pauses, taking a moment to process what Askr just said. She hadn't wanted to know the-- OH.
It clicks. The tiefling bursts out into a laugh, waving her hand toward Askr. "Oh, that's--!! Hoooo, Lunala's sweet bosom, friend, that got me good," she straightens up and wipes a tear from the corner of her eye. That as precious. What was a sweet soul like this doing out here on a volcano? "That's my bad; Copper for your thoughts is a phrase that means 'I'm interested in hearing what you have to say'. And I asked about your antlers 'cuz they're nice lookin'. Lots of folk in the capitol deck themselves up for just the look of it. I don't care if they have monetary value or not. Clearly, if they don't, though, then they mean something to you, right?" She grins.
And there it was; a small glimmer of the Izzy beneath the sharp teeth and cavalier attitude. A keen observer, able to extrapolate facts from what was not said.
She employs that again as they trek further up, taking Askr's words to heart. They were ascending the volcano at a good pace, and she truste Askr had a good idea of how much more dangerous it was near the top. Humming, she casts her gaze around for a moment, and then drops to her knees, touching the soil. It was warm, not damp, but bone dry. Rubbing the granules of volcanic soil and ash between her fingers, she looks out to the left of the path, peering between the low, dense scrub. "We should have seen footprints by now. I lost the ones for Flamouria a while back, before you and I crossed paths, so if she was coming this way, we would have spotted something. Let's see..."
Izzy stands and makes her way opposite, to the right of the path and into the scrub, stepping over the bushes with her gangly legs. She picks her way through the bramble carefully, looking where she is stepping before she does so. After a couple minutes, she utters a little cry of victory, beckoning to Askr.
"Here," She gestures, reaching out a hand to help the shorter person over the bushes. It wasn't a footprint, but rather a decent sized scuff in the ground, as if someone had tripped and fallen. There were divots led further to the west at a slow, slightly dragged pace. "Looks like someone hit the ground. Pretty recent too, maybe within the last few hours, with how sharp the edges are. Wind would have rounded the imprint off some, if it had been longer. And look," She points to one of the low lying trees, grinning. A bit of bark was brushed off of the edge, exposing the softer tissues underneath to the air. She reaches out and plucks a little indigo thread that was wedged between the layers, holding it up for Askr. "Ta-daaa~."
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Post by Askr Mimameith on Feb 8, 2023 12:17:29 GMT -5
Laughter is a strange response.
Askr is accustomed to hearing it; it is a raucous sound, the kind that resonates through the packed taverns Captain Bleier seems to favor, echoing after jokes they do not understand and stories of wild origin and scale. They are used to it in all of its myriad forms; the barely stifled giggles that echo from their allies whenever they do not understand something, the loud and unabashed cackles from bartenders when they ask for a glass of milk instead of ale or wine, unbroken chains of mirth that follow old tales from old and lost days they were not there to witness. People laugh at all sorts of things, whether a joke has been told or not, whether anything is worth laughing about or not.
They do not think they have told a joke, and yet Miss Issala laughs anyway. They tilt their head, watching the way she wipes a tear from the corner of her eye, listening to the way her breath must even back out after the joyous cackling comes to a close. And then she opens her mouth once more and an explanation comes out instead of a laugh, and--
Oh.
"Oh," they say. Figurative language is, as ever, their enemy. "...these branches are merely branches."
It is best not to admit to a stranger what they are and what they mean. No, they should be focusing on the mission ahead; that is of far greater significance. Askr lets the topic fall to the wayside as Izzy maneuvers her way further up, over brambles and branches, silence spanning between them for a while until she lets out a song of victory, signaling for them to join her. They do, guided forward by orders, letting the taller woman help them over the tangle of ashen briars, giving a nod of gratitude and falling silent as she explains.
Mm. Perhaps Miss Issala, strange as she is, is in fact a private investigator as she says.
She does not make such a thing easy to glean.
"...then we are on the right track," Askr says, glancing up ahead, toward more brambles and branches spanning the mountainside. "...this is good. We should continue."
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Post by Issala 'Izzy' Arodre on Feb 10, 2023 12:37:03 GMT -5
She doesn't quite buy that the branches are only that, but she can't get a read on Askr well enough to discern if he is actually lying. Not to mention, it's none of her business anyway. It wasnt like she was out here hunting Askr at the behest of someone they had pissed off. Though, Izzy wasn't actually sure Askr was capable of pissing anyone off, except maybe incidentally. They seemed like a good sort, at any rate. Funny thing for them to be living the mercenary life.
"Sure are," Izzy confirms with a wink, standing. "She might be injured, though, looking at the footprints," she gives a slight nod to the occasional drag step that they were following, "Maybe from the tumble she took, or maybe she fell because of it. Either way, onward!" Pointing dramatically among the brambles, Izzy starts forward, taking extra care this time to make sure they stay on the trail and find any additional clues. Though it might be a while. She wasn't sure how far up Flamouria had made it yet.
After a period of silence, Izzy can no longer resist speaking. "Soooo whaaat made you join the adventuring, sell-sword life?" She asks, looking to the branch'd man with interest. That wasn't anything Askr had directly said or Izzy had managed to pick up; she was assuming, since he was up here in the first place. "You're a lot more calm and collected type than most I've met."
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Post by Askr Mimameith on Feb 16, 2023 1:31:37 GMT -5
One commonality amongst the organic species of Charon seems to be their aversion to silence.
Askr sees it in the taverns Captain Bleier drags the Ring to in the wake of victories, sees it among their own fellow mercs as they travel from city to city and nation to nation-- there is a constant desire among most for some form of chatter, the cyclical loop of the same conversations about weather and family and politics, about the difference in terrain, about the fortune of surviving the last mission they completed. They do not understand it-- not really. Talking does not come naturally to them; there is comfort in traveling in silence, in moving forward with their thoughts devoted to travel alone, in not having to spare a thought for answers to questions they are not given enough time to contemplate.
There will be no silence today, they realize-- Miss Issala is too fond of talking, too fond of filling the familiar blanket of silence with sound. It is... a bit difficult to divide their focus between travel and talk, but Askr will merely have to learn to balance it. They have no place asking for silence, after all.
They do, however, pause at Issala's assessment of them-- at how quickly she figures out they are a mercenary.
"...I never said I was a sellsword," they say simply, shooting a long, illegible stare her way. "...Why are you asking?"
The pieces are gradually clicking together-- it is clear that Miss Issala is more capable and more observant than Askr initially assessed. It is not as though they are secretive about their line of work, about their place in society, but they did not admit to it openly-- not yet. It is important to be careful with people like this, they think-- the type of people who can read a book without ever slipping open the cover.
"...what brought you to Darkveil to seek out a researcher?" they ask atop their last question, trying to stack the two quickly enough to switch the topic. "You are... from Zeinav, yes?"
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Post by Issala 'Izzy' Arodre on Feb 16, 2023 17:11:06 GMT -5
"Nope!" she chirps, makes a popping sound with her mouth on the word, agreeing. Askr definitely did not say that. She meets his sidelong look of dubiousness with a bright, cheerful grin. "Just a guess. You don't seem to particularly be a heroic type, and I say that because you're clearly not an idiot," she gestures to all of him, as if that explains it. "You're sharp and thoughtful. If you were in it for the hero nonsense, you'd be hollering for the researcher left and right and giving away our position. So, if you can do that, you know what to do with that weapon of yours. You'd be surprised at how many people carry one and don't know how to use it. Case and point--"
Izzy stops briefly to point out a jammed crossbow peeking out from under a bush, bemused. She takes a knee to get a better look. "Spring mechanism looks busted," she announces, rising. "I don't see any blood, though, and the footprints keep going at the same pace."
"As for why asking; mostly out of curiosity. You took on a harder life getting involved in work like this as opposed to... I dunno, bein' a guard in the Capitol or something, or a barista. That's always an interesting thing to learn about someone."
But now he turns the question on her, and she tosses him another grin. "Ahhh. Well, I was already in the area doing a bit of work for a client. Gathering some info on someone. Never hurts to have coin or spread the reputation around, so I picked up this job on my way back to Zeinav."
Izzy stops again a short while later, looking down at the tracks. It looks like there was a bit of a scuffle, a falter or a fall, and then the more hurried footprints leading off elsewhere. "I'd venture to say Ms. Flamouria is having herself a pretty rough day. What do you think? See anything?"
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Post by Askr Mimameith on Feb 17, 2023 23:54:11 GMT -5
For a long moment, all Izzy gets in response to her analysis of Askr is a blank stare; something like pensiveness swirls in those golden eyes, their brow lightly furrowed as they process each word she's said. This, so far, is the clearest demonstration of Izzy's claimed skills; she breaks things down cleanly and easily, assessing every detail to its finest point. Up until this point, they had been content merely to stay wary, to stay skeptical, but the way she connects one observation to the next until she's strung together a chain of thought...
Well. It certainly gives her claim about being a private investigator some weight.
It is not as if Askr has any place to call anyone else strange, but Issala Arodre is... just that. Strange.
"...You are good with observation," they say after a moment or so longer, giving a short nod. "I am... a mercenary, yes. It is not as though it is a secret. It is merely the first option that presented itself to me."
That is all they say on the matter-- their own affairs and story matter little. They give a short nod at the reply Izzy gives to their own question, figuring it does make sense-- it is only natural for an investigator to desire information, and... natural for anyone to desire coin. It is always possible that she is not telling the whole truth, but Askr does not know what reason she would have to lie, nor do they know why they would care about what that truth might be. They hardly know her. Having fundamental information is nice, but they are not here for an evaluation. They are here to find a researcher.
As soon as Izzy points out the footprints, Askr merely nods, continuing to follow along after the hastily made tracks in silence for a long moment-- although they... pause, momentarily, at the sight of another set intertwined with the first pair.
"...Miss Issala," they say slowly. "There was only one researcher documented as missing, yes? There... are two pairs of footprints here."
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