[open]Recover, Resupply, Alfitaria

[Zaxton Books]

When you come as tightly-wound as Chiko Greene, the last thing you wanted to hear just as you woke up was the sound of heavy footfalls landing upon the wooden floor. The former Dynamo assassin snapped awake, reaching at once for the knife that she always kept under her pillow, and drew it toward the noise.

Almost at once, she crashed forward, and fainted. The man in the room sighed, and set her right again.

"Boss, you need help."

---

Alfitaria was a busy enough town during the day, despite the usual impression of Coronia being a dead land of abandoned and minuscule communities. Marx was impressed as he walked the streets. He wore drab, olive-green clothing and heavy, well-worn leather boots, a cloak of wool over it to protect him against the rain. Though he walked with something of a heavy stride, he felt light, agile, without his heavy pack. That much, he could leave at the hotel. Getting lost in a city wasn't like getting lost in the Wild. There was always someone around to point one in the right direction.

Not that he was lost. He wasn't especially familiar with the city, that much was true, but he'd been there before, and, like every city, Alfitaria had a rhythm, a natural beat. Too fast for his country-boy tastes, but he got by. He waded among the merchants and the buyers of the Bazaar, standing a head or so over most, who walked with the casual slouch of people whose eyes were downward, who looked only to where they were going in the terms of the very next foot-step, hardly looking past the edges of the market square.

He eased into a throng surrounding a herbalist, taking the time to go ahead and pre-count the necessary gil for what he had to purchase.

"Healin again, Stranger? You know you aught to have seen her to a healer by now."
"We can't afford no Mage, Daikon. Healin and curealls are the very best I can do right now."
The merchant handed him the bundle of herb, but waved aside the coins. "Not this time, son, not this time. This is the third day in a row. What happened to her, anyway?"
"She breathed too much of the Tida fog."
The merchant shook his head disapprovingly, the furrows of his withered brow deepening in a frown. "You two should know better than that, son."
"We certainly do now." Came the ranger's reply, slapping the coin down atop the man's display. "Take it. We don't work for free, and neither do you."

Before the man could object, he was in the crowd again. The merchant fingered the coin. Them Clan Rangers... they were good people.

---

"Name?"
Marx nodded toward the pidgeon-postmaster. "Guy White. I 'ad that little peppery fellow, the one with the bad leg. 'E ain't back yet?"
"No, fellow, sorry. Whoever you're waiting on can't have sent him back here yet."
Marx shrugged, shaking his head as he let himself get swept back up into the throng. No post from Alex would mean no work, and no work meant that they were taking on water with no way to bail themselves back out.

Maybe something on the boards... he drifted toward the nearby pub, to take a look.

[NeonPeace]

(Mind if I join? :> )

This town was such a strange place, so unlike the cramped airship that she grew up on. One common trait that the two shared is the noise. Yes, the loud buzzing of the people as they went on with their everyday life was in every way similiar to the loud buzzing that the airship's generator made. Essa strolled through the main street, paying little attention to what was going on around her, mind obviously elsewhere.

The determination to find her brother was killing her. Well, maybe not that bad, but it had kept her up all night, as she searched through the forests that lined Alfiteria for even a clue to her brother's existance. The only thing she could think of doing was searching some more, maybe even asking around a bit. Not right now though, she was too hungry. And sleepy. And...and...and...

Essa halting, gazing around at all of the stores and vendors that lined the road, until her eyes landed on a pub. Perfect! She strolled inside, pulling her goggles off to let them hang around her neck. A few heads turned her way, maybe because the way she was dressed, with her bright yellow and brown clothing, or maybe because of the rifle that was strapped to her back.

She strode up to the person that was closest to her, an odd looking fellow that wearing terribly drab green clothing. "Aqlica sa," She asked in Al Bhed tapping on the man's shoulder lightly. "Tu oui ryja yho suhao?" If not, then....

[Zaxton Books]

(Not at all, that's what I mean by Open.)

The Al Bhed caught Marx's attention right away, from his post at the bar. He saw her step in, saw the rifle, and from that moment, decided she wasn't going anywhere in the building without him knowing where. Especially not with the Leader upstairs in her bed.

He glanced away from the traveller for a moment to answer a question from the barmaid. She was having trouble getting into the drawer with the mission registry in it, and wanted to know if he'd wanted a drink in the meantime. She hurried off to get it, and Marx became aware that the Al Behd had approached him.

His command of their peculiar language wasn't fantastic. It had been a while since he needed it, and Locke had spoken it better than he had. Still, Locke wasn't here, and his would be enough to get by, he hoped. "E cuddci. Ryd cugi ud khyzm yr dhiim, ehyort dnimi behdm."

His beer arrived in its flagon, and he palmed the already-counted cost and tip onto the counter, which the barmaid swept up so quickly that you almost wouldn't get a chance to see the coin. He gestured for the other to wait, looking to the marksman that had just entered.

She had a purpose, alright. He wanted to make sure that purpose wasn't him or his partner. "Ty ayo mbieg Syllyr? Cid li poa ayo e thurg."

[NeonPeace]

(Blegh! This is terrible! I haven't roleplayed in so long, and it totally shows! XC )

'A little'? Was that all the money this man had? Poor guy. Oh well, she'd just have to ask someone else for some money, someone rich. As long as she got money some way, even if that way was by begging. she had to get something to eat. And food costed money.

Essa leaned against the bar, staring at the man's beer-filled flagon as he continued speaking. It was quite surprising that he spoke Al Bhed, as it wasn't a popular language. She wasn't complaining though.

Nodding a bit when asked if she knew Common, she proceeded to reply, "Yas, I do...A lettle." Translation was slightly off, and pronounciation was a bit weird, but her words were still understandable. "I..." A pause, as she simultaniously pointed at the flagon while searching her brain for the proper words to use. "I want one of that." She ended her sentence, turning to the Barsmaid who had already begun preparing the newest order.

She quickly turned back to the man, blinking slightly. "Oh, and I'm Essa." She introduced herself, holding out a gloved hand.

[Zaxton Books]

Marx smirked somewhat on the far side of his face from the Al Bhed. He had nothing against them as a person or their people as a whole, but you couldn't go travelling the wide world and expect to get away with only a little of the lingua franca. He hadn't grown up speaking it either, but his mother had insisted he attend grammar school during the winter months and learn it.

"Marcus." He replied with a shake, as the book of missions and the second beer landed in front of them. He pondered his Al Bhed translations as he flipped through the book.

"Damm oui fryd. So iciym byndhan ech'd tuehk cu famm drec faag. Fro tuh'd oui yht E dyga y meddma zup yht cbmed dra lycr?"

[NeonPeace]

Essa frowned slightly. Did this Marcus guy really expect her to work for money?! Then again, that was probably not a bad idea, but only if the job was a simple one. "Fine. Ruf ypuid drec uha?" Hovering over the book, which was unfortunatly writtin in Common script, she quickly pointed at a random mission, scanning over the text quickly. Yeah, this looked like a good choice. Even though she couldn't understand the writing, at least the letters looked pretty.

"Sound good to oui...urr..ummm...'you'?" She added, taking a slight sip of her drink.

[Zaxton Books]

Marx reviewed the document. Simple enough job, a handful of Marlboro had taken over a field and the farmer wanted them gone for the usual obvious reasons.

"... Yeah, that's good enough."

He tore the page out, handing the fee to the barmaid as he folded it into his coat. He knew that part of the area well enough, and whatever he didn't know he could learn on the way. "... E zicd haat so pyk yht so kih. Fro hud fyed rana?"

He only got two steps away, however, when his train of thoughts received a sudden jolt. He turned to look at the Al Bhed. "... Better thought. Come with me."

[NeonPeace]

"Hmmm...." She tapped her chin, pondering whether to go with this guy or not. "Okay!" After taking a big swig of her drink, Essa followed suit.

"Where we going?"

[Zaxton Books]

He lead her up the stairs, explaining over his shoulder. "I need to pick up some of my equipment, if we are going to hunt marlboro, and I need to drop something off to my travelling partner.

He knocked twice upon the door, stepping in. Chiko had sat up by then, if only just, still feeling just as ragged and run-down as when he had left to do his errands. She was sun-weathered like he was, with a head of simply cut, mid-length dirty-blonde hair. Though it was warm today, she wore a sweater and the blankets pulled most of the way up. She was pale, her normally keen eyes hollow with illness. A crystal chalice sat on the bedside table, about half full of water.

"Who's this?"
"This is Essa, she's helping me with a job outside of town. Essa, this is Chiko."

The other woman nodded, lazily picking up the bundle of herbs that Marx had tossed near her hand, giving it a sniff. "Ah, that's the stuff. ... It's nice to meet you, Essa."

Marx approached his bag at the window, digging through it to stuff his pockets with a few things.

[NeonPeace]

She followed him up the stairs, halting breifly when he mentioned that they where going to go hunt Marlboros. Is that what mission she had picked? Oh, great. But before she could protest or complain, she found herself inside Marcus's room, where a sickly-looking woman was sitting up in her bed. This had to be his partner.

With arms crossed behind her back, she stood there, waiting for Marcus to finish the introductions. "Hela du sad oui, duu" She chirped once he was done, waving slightly to the new partner.

Strolling up to the side of the bed, she leaned towards Chiko with a grimace. "What's wrong with you?" Indeed, this woman looked terrible, like she had got caught up in a rotary blade. Well, alright, maybe not that bad, but still...

[Zaxton Books]

Chiko chuckled a tired chuckle. "I sucked in too much of the miasma at Tida. I'll be okay."

"You need a healer, leader." Marx said distractedly, adding a knife to his belt and lifting his shotgun from inside the pack. "Which, I suppose, is the point of this job. I'll be back soon."

He looked to Essa. "Let's go."

[NeonPeace]

Mi-asma? Images of a dense purple smog immediatly popped up in Essa's mind, making her shudder.

Hearing Marcus say that he was going on this mission to get the funds for a healer, she immediatly erased any ideas of protesting, even after all of those stories of the Malboro's breath that she had heard as a child.... Those where just stories, after all.

"We'll be back faster'na desert melts ice." She reassured Chiko as she walked out the door.

[Zaxton Books]

Chiko nodded carefully. "... You be gentle with ol' Marx, kid. He's fragile."

Marx muttered something that may have been "I'll show you fragile," slinging the shotgun over his shoulder as he went back down the stairs, turning to Essa. "Ed'c y sema un cu vnus rana. Lyh oui neta?"

[NeonPeace]

"Neta fryd? Y chocobo?!" Essa exclaimed eagerly, clapping her hands together. "Oui pad e lyh!" She had always wanted to ride one of the big, fat, yellow birds. Excited and impatient, she rushed down the stairs and out of the pub.

[Zaxton Books]

"Oac, y chocobo."

Marx smirked pendandically, stepping down into the street and keeping reasonably close to the young girl, though she was likely too excited for him to stay on her like a proper travelling companion.

At the town stables, he paid the fee to rent two of the yellow birds and the appropriate equipment, mounting up quickly. "Xielgmo. Synmupunu yna teinhym yht E't nydran rihd dras frema drao'na cdemm yfyga."