01 - a retired lord commander walks into a bar

[thunderwarden]

01 the market stalls

Freedom tasted sweet, and since the moment he was brought to Flotsam, he got the impression he was going to like it here. Striding through one passage or another, listening to the erratic but somehow melodious sounds of Flotsam, he knew he could find a place here. It was busy, there were parts of it that smelled, but it was free, and it was populated by an eclectic bunch of renegades that reminded him so much of his own it made him homesick.

Which meant ploughing on until he secured his own space to brood in and hopefully acclimate to this place. After months slaving under Imperial lashes working on their machines, being here seemed like something of a miracle, and while he was bone tired, soul tired even, he couldn't very well leave the lot of them to their own devices. That meant he needed to be prepared, he needed to figure out what his role would be in this place, and he needed to meet the locals. So, top of the list? Preparation. The Empire had stripped him of all he'd had on him at the time, and that included his swords. They'd need to be replaced, which meant a trip to the market stalls for gear and armor if he was going to be of any use to these people who'd given him a chance at freedom.

He started at a weapons stall, testing the weight of swords with the skill of a man who'd done so all his life, sighting down the blades, one after another, feeling their weight in his hand. "Fine craftsmanship, mate." He smirked at the vendor, "less, of course, you don't make 'em here, then good eye, I guess. Either way, I'll take it."

He spends a bit more time browsing wares, getting a feel for the place, the sorts of goods that cross the decks of a floating city and the sorts of conversations that are had among the market stalls, finding a blessing by the end of it: a satchel of tobacco and rolling papers. Maybe fate's smiling on him after all.

02 waterlogged row

Taverns the world over, and those from another world he used to call home, shared common threads: people unwound there, they drank some kind of swill, and they talked. Where normally Cid would be taking this as an opportunity to learn ought that was going on around the realm, his knowledge of this world he'd found himself in was still limited to the point that he was just absorbing pieces: geography, politics beyond what little he'd been able to glean from overheard conversations from his captors, and anything else that might be useful.

Or rumors of where he could be useful. By the way he strode into the tavern in question, he knew how to use the swords at his hip, but he wasn't walking in threatening people with them, either. Instead, he makes to prop up the bar, so to speak, lighting a freshly rolled cigarette and ordering whatever's on tap while he keeps an eye out for any interesting individuals who might stride in.

03 wildcard

( ooc: Cid can be found in various places around Flotsam, as he's getting acclimated. I'd be totally down you you setting your own scene, or if you'd me to write a prompt, drop me a line! )

Comments

[straykitty]

Cid might find it odd to see a young lady with a rather proper look about her stride purposefully into the tavern. Wearing a gray overcoat and a frilly white black dress with a white bust. Her hair is neatly tied with a black ribbon, and she wears red tights over black boots. A fair bit more put together than the motley crew of Flotsam, by any rate. As she enters, she scans the room, seemingly quite at ease with the rougher environment. Spotting Cid, she gives him an appraising look, before smiling faintly and taking a seat right across from him. She says nothing at first, watching him to see if he'll object or make the first move before deciding if she'll speak.

Market stalls

[newmemorywhodis]

Cid isn't the only one paying the weapons stall for a visit - although it's not a Sword that Link's after. No, he's here for a replacement shield, having broken his for the sixth time.

But he does glance over when he hears a fellow patron make a comment about the craftsmanship. Runs an eye over the two blades. Then makes a soft sound of agreement; Link thinks they look pretty nice too. Even if he's not so sure about wielding two of them at the same time - he'd much rather have a shield in his off hand.

And since blades are what Cid is here to look at, he might notice that the pointy-eared young man is carrying one of his own on his back. A longsword, it's hilt shaped like two purple wings, with a beautifully decorated scabbard.

01

[purplexing]

The market definitely has its ups and downs from the perspective of the turtlekin teen. It's a great place to look for things or just browse, the most he's ever been able to freely do so without feeling the need to keep glancing over his shoulder. But it's usually crowded too, and unfortunately many here don't seem to have a concept of personal space.

Well, at least it makes things a little warmer, having other people around. Winter certainly makes dealing with such tight-packed places a little more tolerable. All the same, Donnie's bundled up, a scarf thrown over his head and wound about his neck, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his leather jacket. One of these days he should look into actual boots than the open-toed hybrid he normally wears, but he hasn't found anything that'd accommodate his weirdly shaped feet.

...it also doesn't help that he tends to get distracted by any shiny contraptions that catch his eye amongst the varied selections.

There's something to at least be said for his reflexes as the turtle just manages to pull himself to a halt short of barrelling right into the tall man. "-whoa!"

2. Also Hiiiii!

[chosenkingoflucis]

Depending on what he might find interesting, Cid might have sat down right next to it.

A young man around 20 years of age sits on the stool next to where the older man hunkers down, a mug of ale in front of him and a sleepy expression on his face that's cradled in one hand.