deercountry | [Open] 🚬 November Flames

Prompt four ... closed

[willful machine, the trading district. dabi's most frequented place when it comes to supplying himself. trades happen here or there in other places, but if he's going to actually procure something from the marketplace, its here... or the boardwalks. which are usually fish and thus, not really appealing. locals warn not to come at night, since the rise of pickpocketing and crime escalates. he's not a local. and his hands are always in his pockets. besides, the last person who tried to steal from him ended up with 3rd degree burns all over said hand. dabi hasn't survived on the streets for a decade and not learned how to both steal and tell when stolen.

the man lingers by one of the stalls, coat tails brushing at his calves beneath the dark cloak covering the rest of him. hood up, he drops a gold coin on the counter of the stall, letting the man behind the wooden cart inspect it. intricately carved, a skull-like pattern adorned in a web, it seems to capture the vendor's interest. that's good. as much as he can refuse it, dabi avoids paying for anything in his own blood. he has a few solidified bloodgems in his pouch if needed, but no one knows about that. after the acceptance, the man sets down a package of dried meats wrapped in paper and tied with string.

hey, pirate coin for a few pounds of jerky isn't a bad trade in a place were "money" isn't the currency.

sweeping the package off the counter, it vanishes under the cloak and dabi sets it in a leather satchel slung across his chest and resting against his hips. turning, he deftly steps around another person and heads out into the street again. the nighttime marketplace is certainly a different flavor than its daylight counterpart.]

Fortunately for Mayerling, a portion of the market operates at night. Not everyone does, he's sure, and some only come out at night. The process can be lengthy, as barter often depends on what people want. Though he has found an excellent form of currency in unique fungi to this world, no one who wants the mushrooms has what he wants.

Fifteen fraught minutes of negotiation leads to bloodstones instead of blood for Walking Terrors and Floaters. Mayerling accepts the solid jewelry that he can still smell blood from as he pours the mushrooms into two soft vessels for the shopkeeper.

"Keep me in mind if you see any Blue Cheeks," she says, "All right, sweet cheeks?" She chuckles at her own joke.

Mayerling gives her a small bow. "You will be foremost in my thoughts," he intones seriously, as free of smiles as all their negotiations. His time in the archives has informed him about many mushrooms. He's had no interest in mushrooms good only for killing, nor in provisioning others with them.

With goods traded more readily with others, some even of most types, Mayerling takes one step back, turns, and makes his way toward other stalls. He watches the customers as much as the stalls. A small hand tries for his pocket, and Mayerling sweeps his cloak around him, impenetrable to deft hand movements, and gently but firmly grips the wrist attached to it. "Don't," Mayerling warns. That is all it is, a warning. As soon as he lets go, they slink back into the shadows.

It's the sudden motion of a large cloak about an even larger stature that captures his attention out the peripheral of his vision. Dabi's chin tucks towards his shoulder in a downward sweep of his gaze backwards, turquoise eyes lingering at the corner. Almost impossible to make out among the shadows the lights cast, there's movement beneath the cloak, or behind it at least, and suddenly a small figure slides away from the man. A rather towering man.

Ah, so that's what happened. Attempted pickpocket. Seems they got caught and let off with a warning. Dabi notes he hasn't seen the man around. And someone like this wouldn't be going unnoticed. The one or two books he'd read that detailed vampires would likely be referring to this man. Certainly would fit the bill of a Vampire Quirk were any to exist in his world. Quite the thematic image.

"All ya did was send them off to prey on someone else." Dabi comes to stand beside the man, eyeing him. "Those kinds don't learn that easily." Honestly couldn't tell if the perpetrator was a child or a small adult.

Noting the new person beside him, Mayerling watches the person regroup and pause. A close encounter like that could go differently were he someone else. A Blue Cheek mushroom down a throat a slow and certain death, whether one came back from it or not. A knife. A hand around one's throat. There's any number of ways it could have gone worse.

"That may be," Mayerling says, but the goal hadn't been his death. His goal is not to change the market as a whole. Some unsavory types may be able to be killed or otherwise neutralized, but others would likely step up to fill their spots, even in a place as small as Trench. Opportunity.

"The next person may not be as generous," he says. If the person is so hard pressed upon their luck, they need to steal to survive, they will try again regardless. If it's merely to line their pockets, Mayerling is not terribly concerned with their future well being.

He's aware there could be some ramifications to just up and talking to someone from out of the blue beside them, but he's kept enough distance between himself and the other man to give him reaction time if needed. Without any attempt, however, Dabi's left watching the smaller figure vanish into the crowd to go seek out another patsy.

"Guess that'll be a lesson to improve." Getting caught and managing to escape is simply an indicator you need to get better at stealing or dodging. He leaves the thief's departure and heads forward towards another stall. "Ya don't strike me as the kind to go peddling mushrooms around the night market..."

Meaning this man probably doesn't have another recourse. Offering barter suggests he's not willing to do blood (or doesn't know yet) or steal what he wants or needs. "Just get here?"

May only those who would burn, behand, or brand a pickpocket the only kind to peddle mushrooms around the night market? There is no point in asking, for the conclusion has been reached. Without good cause, Mayerling refuses to use violence. Nor does he wish to rely on intimidation, particularly when he cannot seem to lie.

Trench truly is a small town. Anywhere Mayerling goes, someone pegs him as a recent arrival. Such a close eye everyone has on their piece of the pie. As befits a vampire, Mayerling shrugs. "So what if I am?" he asks, letting out a sliver of vampire arrogance. Night and its market doesn't scare him.

More like someone with the kind of air this guy's radiating doesn't seem the kind to get peddling anything. Seems more the type to toss some coin onto the counter and leave with what's wanted. But since coin doesn't technically have much value here... It comes with the familiarity of someone who's been here long enough and paid attention to some specific details.

"Ya ain't gonna enjoy your time here." That's what. It's not surprising that other sleepers would notice a new arrival. Their numbers aren't massive and they tend to keep in communication through the network or see each other during different events. Odds are you'd reach one end of the sleepers to the other just by talking to one to three people. Connections and all.

The brush of arrogance doesn't faze Dabi at all. Good to know he's not a walking statue. "Try the stall five down. The one with the blue candle. He's fond of mushrooms." Before turning to his own venture with the stall beside him. Dried meat and some salt plus spice bundles.

With the exception of brief flashes of moments, Mayerling has long long lost any expectation of enjoying his time anywhere. The night market, Sleeper community, or even Trench continuing that existence is hardly news. Anyone accepting his mushrooms at all is already a step above what he may have counted upon. He shrugs, unconcerned.

Equally expecting the advice to be false as true, Mayerling sweeps his way past the intervening stalls, as though he has few cares in the world. He smells far more than blood within their veins but how long since they last washed, what they've handled that left residues on their hands, and the uptick of their heartbeats when they look like immobile statues.

He pulls out two vials, each containing one of the two kinds of mushrooms he offers tonight. The heartbeat flickers on the second, the Floater. With that information in his back pocket, Mayerling negotiates.

Wow. Doom and gloom, vampire. Dabi fishes around inside one of his pockets and produces a strange-looking little stone statue. It captures the vendor's attention relatively quickly, though he's not sure if that's out of concern, greed, or something else. But it's what he's offering in exchange for a bundle of salt and spices. The glittering stone eyes of the statue seem to win the deal.

With his deal done, Dabi heads off from the vendor, ending up across the way and watching Mayerling with the vendor indicated. Yeah, the guy was pretty fond of mushrooms and seems the vampire's going to get a good deal out of it. Dumping the wrapped bundle in with his package of meat, he searches his eyes across the three stalls the man passed.

Nothing really catches his interest in them. Interesting the guy was peddling mushrooms though. Dabi's curious who told him to seek out the fungus for its trade properties. Mostly because he himself was introduced to plant hunting for he medical wards and Luminerium. Once Mayerling's done, he approaches again. "Take it someone tipped you off about those being in demand."

Since it'd send the man into the woods, at risk of beasts, it's telling.

The trade goes well, and Mayerling is sure enough in his returns to have means to purchase what he requires at a later date. He would prefer not to live off D's charity more or longer than he needs to. He values survival greater than ego, but no one ought to live merely off the labor of others.

While he's remained aware of plenty of eyes on him, his distinctive clothes and looks making him stand out, he watches the sociable one return. Since the tip worked out, he's no reason to turn him away. A night market in dangerous places usually is not one made of charity in his experience. The question has more behind it.

So far, Mayerling has not had the ability to lie, something he discovered in a relatively safe situation. It limits his options but not terribly so. "They came up as a means of reducing corruption," Mayerling replies, "Tis the season." For the mushrooms.

Something they can agree on. Dabi prefers being self sufficient, not wanting to rely on someone or share with them what he has, unless he specifically chooses to do so. Doesn't mean he won't mooch off someone else if he feels like it. Selfishness has a way of doing that. It's rare he ever goes "shopping" with another person.

"Ah. No wonder." Dabi heads towards another stall again. "The Luminerium trades medical supplies for the plants they use to create them. Don't expect an even trade. Take more plants to make the stuff." One of those things where five plants equates to only a small bottle of solution, for example. Not sure why he's offering the advice... but that's what's happening.

The peddler behind the stall notices his looking and quickly attempts to entice Dabi into trading for one of the clay items, but the scarred man ends up dismissing a need for them and moves back into the main street.

Mayerling inclines his head at the solid advice. He's unsure whether he needs much in the way of medical supplies, unsure where the new setting limits his ability to heal or what ailments may exceed it. Blood is all too easily obtained, so as to be spun down to its unappealing if safer dietary purposes.

"Many more people may gather mushrooms than those who can transform them into medicine," Mayerling notes. He's not ignoring the danger inherent with the activity (he's encountered a few beasts while out). Only, the activity doesn't require the same specialization as medicine. Wherein the workers is a smaller number, the greater value their work shall have. Especially for keeping people alive.

"What more do you need here?" Mayerling inquires. The man has been helpful, so he would rather not turn a potential ally away from him.

Honestly, Dabi's had some wonderings about what would happen if a vampire showed up. Considering blood is both a source of power here and a source of corruption, someone who relies on it for sustenance would be in an interesting dilemma. He knows a person who uses blood to run their own power, but so far they haven't turned into something disgusting...

"Yeah, but a lot of them don't come back though." Or if they do, it's not as themselves. And there went any spoils of their search with them. Unless another fungus fanatic comes along and makes off with the ill-gotten boon. Mayerling's able to gather them without issue, so therein he has a good curb on the market. Might as well tip him off to another potentially interested party.

"There's another stall further down that sells incense. I'm restockin." Just because he's not afraid of Beasts and can hold his own well against them doesn't mean he wants to invite them into his place on the random chance they come by. Good to have some warding abilities on hand if necessary.

Those that are Sleepers should return in time, though that may be via the ocean per the readings he's done. They do not always explain how they are transported there from wherever they fall. However, far be it for the apparent mystery to be the first in Mayerling's lifetime, nor even his short career in Trench.

"All the more reason for me to gather them," Mayerling suggests. He sees more days in the Archives and nights in the lands around Trench and the Outpost in his future. He supposes others gathering the mushrooms may simply stockpile what they need. Why face the spores or risk paralysis otherwise? It pays in ways reading does not, yet.

Whatever his reasons, Mayerling's long life has taught him to be wary of too eager of allies. Carmilla's betrayal freshest of all. The line between cultivating a relationship and not being taken for a fool can be harder to navigate than the derelict roads of the Frontier. As deadly.

"A practical purchase," Mayerling joins the man in stocking up on incense. As much as blood functions like currency, he does not mind to part from some of it for something less tempting.

Leaving the incense behind, Mayerling turns to give a shallow bow to the new acquaintance, still without a name. "I am Mayerling," he introduces himself, "What is your name?" They might have the skills to track each other down, but they can be more civilized than that.

Mayerling's read that right. The Sleepers return after death (most of the time) though some of them end up returning from whence they came. Home, or another stopover between home and Trench. Who knows how bouncing around between worlds works? He'd rather neither know nor experience it. There are things at home he'd much rather be doing.

"Ya pretty optimistically logical for a vampire." No, Mayerling never said he was one. But enough glances at his face, his eyes, the shape of his ears, and the occasional peek of his clothes basically screams "vampire" in the most dramatic of hints. From heroes with vampire-related Quirks to villains with Quirks that hearken the images of vampires to the stories both classical dramatic and stupid comic-book fiction, Dabi's not alien to what a vampire would look like. And this guy... yeah.

Alliances are best made after intense vetting, lots of speculation, distrust, and judgement, and should only be based on what the other person can bring to the table in advantage or worth. That's Dabi's outlook on alliances. Needless to say, he has very few.

"Uh-huh." He notes the man paying with blood, but he himself simply trades with what looks to be a small plastic box of green-colored tablets. Oh yeah, big spender over here.

The bow earns a quirked black brow. Adding to that "vampire" claim a second ago. Regal bearing and formal mannerisms. "Dabi." Is what he goes by, but that's left unsaid. And no, you're not getting a bow back. This fucker's rude.

Which part of that phrase is more surprising? The optimism or the logic? He's curious to know more what people's opinions of vampires are. That's one benefit to dressing this way. Besides, only his clothes from home are self-repairing.

"We all start over here," Mayerling comments with a small shrug. Whatever advantages, riches, or status vampires have where they come from, whatever of those privileges anyone else, they are more limited in Trench. Not vanished entirely, but reduced.

"Dabi," Mayerling repeats in a respectful manner but without any declaration of it being a great pleasure. His thoughts are far warier, and he'd rather not project them louder than he has to. Social niceties are far easier at the moment when they are unspoken.

The optimism part. Vampires tend to run more wild, bloodthirsty, regal, or dark. Not really beings who would offer such words for the sake of another. Still, that's more a Western view of vampires that made its way over to Japan. And stuck around for thematic portrayal.

"If ya wanna be literal about it, yeah." Some people are lucky and come in with some others who know them already here and set up, giving them an immediate foothold and bonus when it comes to that "starting" point. The fact Trench doesn't run on "money" is another leveling of the proverbial playing field.

Dabi appreciates the lack of cordial formalities or whatever. It's not a 'pleasure' nor is it a 'happy to meet you' moment either. No one wants to meet someone else here; that means both people have been kidnapped from their home and imprisoned here. Hardly something to cheerfully welcome like it's a vacation.

"Night shoppin's less busy, but there's less variety and more thieves."

As literal and simple as the statement is, Mayerling doubts he's in a particular minority to be surprised to wash up in another world with other abilities, physics, and other differences yet to be personally discovered. He could have had it worse, arriving by day. He could have died before he regained his shape, before he even knew he was in another world. Even if only for a short time, it would not have helped.

"There's always a cost to doing business," Mayerling notes. It could be harder to find those willing to barter for mushrooms during the day. It could be any number of issues, as clearly everyone who comes to the night market has in one way or another not to shop only during the day. Mayerling's largest issue is simple enough: he cannot come during the day. He could ask D or someone else, but he prefers to do his business himself.

He looks over significantly at Dabi. The man has done him a favor without asking for anything in return. He expects some kind of strings attached, with costs either to pay the man back or to refuse, depending on what he asks. It very well might not be today.

That would've been amusing. Wash up on shore. Immediately fry to death. Then wash up again a while later. Repeat the process until the moon comes out. Not that Dabi knows, but he would've sat there and watched it for a few renditions before finally bothering to walk his ass away or maybe consider putting up some shade. Alas, he doesn't know, so Mayerling is left musing over the dichotomy and Dabi's inspecting another cart nearby.

There's a display of dried goods, ranging from meat to greens to herbs to paper to firewood. A few bundles of roots hang from the sides of the stalls like incense sticks, bulbs included. No one's manning the stall, and whoever left hasn't closed up... Just asking or someone to swing by and clear them out. Or filch a little from the side where it won't be noticed until it's too late.

Someone did just mention the "cost" of doing business. Here lies the "risk" of doing business at night as well. So good to know.

yoink.

Oy, oy. Even if he's a selfish and stingy bastard, he doesn't really consider dropping off some advice that he willingly gave to require repayment. If Mayerling wants to, sure, but Dabi's not asking for it.

He heads off from the stall, pocketing his ill-gotten gains.

"Least the housin in this place is pretty easy. Walk in and sit down."

As Mayerling walks off with Dabi, he teleports the smallest of the bloodstones to the counter of the stall Dabi stole from. It may not be what anyone intended, but he decides that makes them (stall & Dabi, Dabi & Mayerling) even. A minor tip for minor tip.

Despite not having had to search for housing, Mayerling has noticed the large amount of vacant properties. They speak to a time Trench had more people, a time that has come and gone. It's a familiar feeling. "Fix whatever needs fixing," Mayerling notes with a small shrug.

He turns to the other man. "My shopping is complete," he says. He hasn't bought a damn thing, but that's okay. The day will come he needs something. When it does, he'll have the means to pay.

Good for him, Dabi doesn't notice. Not that he'd care if Mayerling was paying for shit he stole; that's the vampire's prerogative. He came out the better deal: got something "for free" and kept his "money" in the process. At least he didn't yoink a noticeable handful, rather skimmed off the top, so to speak.

The houses in their various states of health and dilapidation are an interesting statement of the city before them. Dabi's had similar thoughts to what the buildings could tell them. He's got a few haunts he frequents, but only one mainstay that to his knowledge, no one by him knows about. "If ya wanna put in the effort." He's not a handyman.

"Ya seem like you'd be more interested in "shoppin" at the Luminerium; they got a large blood bank in there, from donations and salvages." Might as well drop that little hint, just to see what comes of it. "I got a few more stops. If ya headin out, then scram. Pretty sure I'll see ya again." This place has a way to shove people together over time. Sleepers in particular.

Dabi hardly is subtle in his hints. For his part, Mayerling has avoided that part of Trench thus far, soaked in blood pollution as it is, with all the... donations and salvages around. He is not here to drink blood, directly or indirectly, so much as is possible. The dried capsules have to do since synthetic blood is not an option.

"I'll see you around, Dabi," Mayerling says. With that he melts into the night, little more than a shadow.

Not in this case. Like dropping a pebble in the water. Obvious to someone standing right there. There's no comment about that little hint and it strikes him as curious the vampire says nothing. Is it the blood? Is it a sense of morals? Neither rejection nor a sudden interest either. Does he not drink blood? Or is this a different kind of vampire? Dabi can't say he knows, since he's just going on base assumption. Probably rude, but hell if he cares.

Instead, he's left with a dismissive departure and Dabi watches as Mayerling vanishes into the night. Can't tell if he walks away or actually melts within the darkness.

Gonna keep an eye on that one...

[Open] 🚬 November Flames

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