This is a four part series of logs. I hope you all enjoy! I have to give special credit to pof Inaya and pof Ighlaf for engaging in this continued joke about AXE HAIRCUTS. It was fun XD
Part One: The Beginning
[St Loomis, Seaglass Inn, Common Room]
The common room of this inn is homely but welcoming. Greying floorboards and chipped wainscoting show the buiding's age, but it appears well maintained nonetheless. Beside the entry door sits a small table, positioned to enjoy the view through a curtained picture window, while another table lurks in a dimly-lit corner. A generous hearth faces a space set with two trestle tables, with a third running parallel to the bar. Several stools are neatly set in front, while on the bar's other side a swinging door leads to the clamor, warmth, and heat of the kitchens. A wide staircase with a heavy-duty balustrade stands to the side of the bar, ascending to the second story.
A menu full of small drawings is left open on one side of the bar. A notice titled 'Carpenters Wanted' is posted on the wall. A page torn from a book is stuck up with glue on a wall next to up a wide staircase.
A noticeable touch of fresh-baked bread is here. The area is damp.
Cardinal Exits: west: kitchen doors (open)
Other: up a wide staircase and out: set of double doors (closed)
...skipping ahead...
Yasin eyes Inaya and her axe, looking up at her from his seated position. He flashes a brief grin. "Enjoying the axe, Inaya?" [in Sirdabi]
"I was told to be here," [in Sirdabi] Inaya tells you. "At this time." [in Sirdabi] She follows his attention to a lean, ink-eyed man, though, and tips a nod of greeting. "Sayyid," [in Sirdabi] she rasps.
"Hello, dear," [in Ruvic] Firouzeh greets back, ticking an amused look between Inaya's face and that axe before letting her gaze fall over to you. To you, she teases lightly, "Yes, we had all planned to come and surprise you all at once." [in Ruvic with a sweet, shaky soprano]
"Was that the plan?" [in Sirdabi] Yasin asks Firouzeh, a little humor creeping into his tone. "For me? How thoughtful. And not even my birthday." [in Sirdabi]
A lean, ink-eyed man flickers their own amused glance, "Yes, perfect timing." [in Ruvic]
A brusque, kerchiefed barmaid quickly whirls over to serve a carved round wooden bowl to Firouzeh at a mistwood bar set neatly with stools, then goes back to other business after taking payment.
"Aye," [in Sirdabi] Inaya tells you then, her impassive poker-face breaking into a sudden smirk as she gives a well-made iron axe another little spin on its haft as it rests on her shoulder. The blade's probably coming rather close to the back of her head as she does it, but she seems decidedly unconcerned.
"Good for many things," [in Sirdabi] Inaya adds. "Going to try shaving with it, next." [in Sirdabi]
Firouzeh takes out a carved round wooden bowl from a mistwood bar set neatly with stools.
"How does the evening find all of you?" [in Sirdabi] Yasin then asks, seeming non-specific in the direction of his question. Though, his eyes do linger on Inaya -- more specifically, on the position of her axe-blade.
Firouzeh dips her head in thanks to the barmaid delivering her late-night snack - distracted for a moment as she peers into a carved round wooden bowl... probably deciding what exactly is the soup of the day.
"Oh, good." [in Sirdabi] Yasin says with a little grin to Inaya. "After you do that, can you cut my hair?" [in Sirdabi]
Firouzeh tries a small taste from a carved round wooden bowl.
A lean, ink-eyed man snorts in amusement, eventually answering, "The evening finds me well. The tea perhaps kept me awake a slight longer." [in Sirdabi]
"Aye, if you like," [in Sirdabi] Inaya replies to you, no hestitation to the answer, smirk lingering as her gaze tracks over his hair in seeming consideration.
Yasin sounds out an, 'Ah', then nods to a lean, ink-eyed man. "It can do that. I try to stick to the herbal, at night." [in Sirdabi]
Can't enjoy her meal for too long, apparently. Firouzeh wrinkles her nose at the words from you and lets out a sigh. "Please do not come to the clinic with a head wound due to axe hair cutting." [in Ruvic]
Reza departs.
Yasin arches a brow to Inaya at that response. Maybe he didn't expect such a casual answer. Then he looks over to Firouzeh and says, "Good advice. I've already risked enough when Yeshev gave my arm a shave with a dagger." [in Sirdabi]
Firouzeh finally takes a full bite out of a carved round wooden bowl, explaining through chews to a lean, ink-eyed man, "I fear the same fate has fallen upon me." [in Ruvic] (Consumption)
Inaya gives a voiceless little snicker at this from Firouzeh and your reply both, mostly evident just from the shaking her sides and a heavily amused smirk. It's pretty suppressed, all the same.
"Tea, or axe hair-cutting?" [in Sirdabi] Yasin asks Firouzeh, a twinkle of mischief in his eyes.
A lean, ink-eyed man murmurs to you, "I misspoke and ordered the wrong tea. Couldn't waste it." [in Sirdabi] then aims a smile at Firouzeh.
Firouzeh chuckles, and shakes her head at you. "Tea, dear. I'll not let Inaya that close to vital parts of me if I can help it." [in Ruvic]
"Ahh..." [in Sirdabi] Yasin says to a lean, ink-eyed man. This seems to make sense to him, as he gives an understanding nod and says, "No, can't waste it." [in Sirdabi]
"I never fuckin' cut a single head off," [in Sirdabi] Inaya protests at this from Firouzeh. "Not -one-!" [in Sirdabi]
"And... how many haircuts have you given with an axe?" [in Sirdabi] Yasin asks Inaya.
Firouzeh rolls her eyes at Inaya, still wearing an amused grin as she tells her, "I'd like to not be your first." [in Ruvic]
Inaya lifts a well-made iron axe off her shoulder to eye up the head for a moment at your question, considering. "None," [in Sirdabi] she decides. "Used to do it with a knife. Can't be that hard." [in Sirdabi] She's almost, almost still poker-faced as she looks between him and Firouzeh. Just the hint of a smirk.
Amused or not, there's a tiny little dose of fear in Yasin -- just his eyes widening a bit, really -- as Inaya eyes his head with her axe. "Well," [in Sirdabi] he says, letting out a chuckle. "Maybe I'll stick to asking for a barber, first. Use you as a ... last resort." [in Sirdabi]
A lean, ink-eyed man begins laughing quietly for a moment, "A timely set of days to discuss haircuts." [in Sirdabi]
"Oh!" [in Ruvic] Firouzeh lets out as she remembers something, turning her attention away from considering the mechanics of Inaya's new barber shop idea to look at you. "Ighlaf had mentioned sh.. he left a sketch with you that I should look at?" [in Ruvic]
Inaya just looks like the cat that got the canary, all the same, smug as anything as she lets a well-made iron axe settle back onto her shoulder, twisting it on its haft again. She shifts her attention to a lean, ink-eyed man, smirk lingering.
Yasin turns from Inaya to Firouzeh, seeming to relax as he's given reprieve from considering his potential patronage of the Strongest Barber of Silver Street. Then, he blinks a few times, flitting his eyes between a lean, ink-eyed man and Firouzeh, as he then perks up and says, "Oh! Right!" [in Sirdabi]
...
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Part Two: Starting to Consider It
You walk south, while idly nibbling on a golden-crusted pasty.
[St Loomis, The Dockyards]
The center of the dockyards is usually a harried place, for in most weather the chief enterprise of St Loomis perseveres. To the northeast a forest of masts is silhouetted against the sky, while several smaller boats bob in the sea to the southwest.
Zahir ibn Musa is here, holding a polished, carved oakwood box and a tasteful black loden hooded greatcloak in his right hand. A lean, ink-eyed man is here. Inaya is here, holding a well-made iron axe in her right hand.
The stars glimmer softly in the clear dark night. The whiff of rotten fish winds around the space.
Cardinal Exits: north, northeast, southwest, west, and southeast
A lean, ink-eyed man smiles at the return words, then focuses on Inaya's. They tug at their own turban, "It will certainly feeling oddly to me once I am not wearing this a time, once I find a haircut not done with an axe." [in Ruvic with a flat countertenor] They see you and aim the words with a grin.
Wafting a muck-and-salt scent of along the dockyards, the air is warm beneath spotlessly unclouded skies.
Inaya spots you, watching in that direction already as she was, and offers a tip of her head his way before her attention's pulled back by a lean, ink-eyed man's words. She smirks abruptly. "Such accusations, and I have not even shown my skill," [in Sirdabi with a hoarsely broken, half-whispered contralto] she says, mock-offended.
"...We're still talking about axe haircuts?" [in Sirdabi] Yasin asks with a grin, offering a casual nod to a lean, ink-eyed man, then Inaya, and Zahir ibn Musa. "Good evening," [in Sirdabi] he says, pleasantly. "Thought I spied you standing around here." [in Sirdabi] He takes a nibble of a golden-crusted pasty in his hand. (Consumption)
A lean, ink-eyed man turns her grin towards Inaya, "I'm almost at the point of accepting. Almost." [in Ruvic] then nods to you, "Well, I keep forgetting to ask around for barbers, I admit." [in Ruvic]
"If no one will let me, no one should accuse me of chopping off heads," [in Sirdabi] Inaya claims, still with that put-on air of sort of haughty indignation.
A lean, ink-eyed man startles into a giggle at Inaya's words, then coughs, "I've not accused of heads being chopped, I think. Perhaps an implied ear." [in Ruvic] they tease.
Zahir ibn Musa's gaze flicks from one speaker to the other
Yasin chuckles to a lean, ink-eyed man and Inaya both. Then, he declares, "Alright, Ighlaf. You and I will both make a... pact, of sorts." [in Sirdabi] He puts on a rather serious expression, likely in jest, and then says, "...Either we find a town barber within the next week or so..." [in Sirdabi] He looks to Inaya, his eyes flitting down to that iron axe. "Or we accept... the axe." [in Sirdabi]
A lean, ink-eyed man takes in your words, matching the expression, their gaze following to the axe. "..The Axe." [in Ruvic] They put a slight emphasis on the two words, like a title. "I accept." [in Ruvic]
"You fuckin' know I done hair before, normal, not with a fuckin' axe, right?" [in Sirdabi] Inaya asks, cocking a brow with a plainly amused smirk to you and a lean, ink-eyed man both. She swings a well-made iron axe up to rest on her shoulder now. "Mean, I'm not gonna complain, you let me. Sounds fuckin' fun." [in Sirdabi]
The air is soft and balmy beneath a vast glimmering field of stars.
Yasin is in the process of nodding gravely to a lean, ink-eyed man in response to that acceptance, and then he just bursts out in a small bout of laughter at Inaya's protest.
"... 'scuse me, I got a barber to kill," [in Sirdabi] Inaya says abruptly, making as though to move off with a quick feral grin.
A lean, ink-eyed man begins to laugh loudly themselves, "I didn't know you may know in regards to haircuts, but yes the axe is terrible fun." [in Ruvic]
Inaya was faking it, not actually departing, and gives a tiny, voiceless snicker, just a few little exhalations, at this from a lean, ink-eyed man.
This carries on for a few moments, before Yasin calms himself down. And then he reaches out his left hand, almost by reflex, in the vague direction of Inaya as she pretends to move off. He calls out, "Now-- Inaya, before you find the barber and kill them, please ask them how much they charge!" [in Sirdabi]
"Ten silvers," [in Sirdabi] Inaya claims, without missing a beat.
Zahir ibn Musa chokes on a stifled laugh.
A pained grimace forms on Yasin's expression and he looks to a lean, ink-eyed man and Zahir ibn Musa. "Ten silvers." [in Sirdabi] A beat. "Maybe I'll... grow my hair out, then. Let Firo braid it." [in Sirdabi]
"I'll do it for two," [in Sirdabi] Inaya rasps then. Butter wouldn't melt.
A lean, ink-eyed man winces at the mention of braids. "I'll welcome the axe." [in Ruvic]
Wafting a muck-and-salt scent of along the dockyards, gentle breezes brush through the warm clear air.
Zahir ibn Musa tells Inaya, "Oh, actually, that reminds me... Do you braid?" [in Ruvic with a dignified baritone]
Yasin makes an exaggerated axe-chopping gesture towards a lean, ink-eyed man. He says with an amused smile, "As you wish, Goodman." [in Ruvic]
"Firo does real fuckin' good braids," [in Sirdabi] Inaya tells a lean, ink-eyed man, gesturing with her free hand to her own head. "Didn't fuckin' trust it, but shit. She's okay." [in Sirdabi] She looks to Zahir ibn Musa then, curious at that, and nods. "Not the best, but I can, aye." [in Sirdabi]
With a small, dismissive wave, Zahir ibn Musa tells Inaya, "I'll look for Firo." [in Ruvic]
Yasin looks up towards Inaya's head, briefly studying said braids. "Huh," [in Sirdabi] he voices. "...She really wasn't kidding when she threatened to braid my beard. When I had one, I mean." [in Sirdabi]
Inaya casts a smirk aside toward a lean, ink-eyed man, then looks back to Zahir ibn Musa. "Yours, I think, would be difficult even for her," [in Sirdabi] she says, with vague amusement. Then to you, nodding, "'Course." [in Sirdabi]
A lean, ink-eyed man inclines their head to you and Inaya, They huff an acknowledging sound to Inaya. "Mine wouldn't, yes. I'm afraid no braids for me, once I've this cut away whether she is skilled or no." [in Ruvic]
Zahir ibn Musa gives a short hum of concession and an indulgent nod to Inaya, rifling through his bag.
The moons glow brightly against the cloudless black of the night, bathing the world in argent light.
Zahir ibn Musa gets out a stylish Amunati wig from a fine suede bookbag in his possession.
This turns Yasin's attention to Zahir ibn Musa, briefly, and he nods slowly, before looking once again to a lean, ink-eyed man. "...A week or so," [in Sirdabi] he repeats, gravely. "We'll have to ask Donna." [in Sirdabi]
Zahir ibn Musa gives a stylish Amunati wig a shake, the beads rattling together. "This has been travelling in the bottom of my bookbag. It... could stand some repair." [in Ruvic]
Zahir ibn Musa puts a stylish Amunati wig in a fine suede bookbag.
With a quirk of a smile, Zahir ibn Musa tells Inaya, "Challenging perhaps, but..." [in Ruvic]
Yasin turns to study Zahir ibn Musa's wig. He says appraisingly, "It is a good-looking wig, Zahir, despite your mention of repair. Though I admit I uhh... do not know what is involved in repairing a wig." [in Sirdabi]
Inaya lifts a brow in unconcealed curiosity at the wig Zahir ibn Musa produces. She blinks as she eyes it, then looks back to him, then just purses her lips in a sort of thoughtful look for a few moments. "Firo would probably be best," [in Sirdabi] she agrees after a moment, raspy and coarse. "I could, but-- that looks valuable." [in Sirdabi]
"...Do you just... braid it, as you would hair?" [in Sirdabi] Yasin asks Zahir ibn Musa.
A lean, ink-eyed man looks over the wig curiously, "It looks well made." [in Ruvic] their eyes track the clack of beads as Zahir ibn Musa moves it.
Seeming probably more pleased than he intends to lead on, Zahir ibn Musa says, "Thank you. It's really just a simple thing, that I could pack for travelling and... wouldn't be too damaged in transit." [in Ruvic]
"It looks as though it -is- hair," [in Sirdabi] Inaya says aside to you, with a small shrug. "How else would you?" [in Sirdabi]
Yasin nods a few times to Inaya, then shrugs to Inaya. "Is it? I suppose it would be." [in Sirdabi]
Glancing down at his bookbag, Zahir ibn Musa says, "I've really never repaired one myself. It's... the sort of thing you send out for." [in Ruvic]
"...Well." [in Sirdabi] Yasin says, looking around. "Given where we are... I'd agree with the choice of Firo." [in Sirdabi] He then looks to Inaya with a grin. "She probably won't even charge two silvers." [in Sirdabi]
The moons glow brightly against the cloudless black of the night, bathing the world in argent light.
"Fadila, also, might," [in Sirdabi] Inaya says then to Zahir ibn Musa, with a momentary cant of her head. "She was going to do mine, but then she was too busy, for a time." [in Sirdabi] She glances back to you with a smirk.
Looking back up, Zahir ibn Musa says, "But yes, I imagine you can just... wash and rebraid it. It was someone's hair, once." [in Ruvic]
"In Jalanjhur, women sell their hair, sometimes," [in Sirdabi] Inaya mentions, with a nod to Zahir ibn Musa. "Perhaps it goes to Amunat. I never knew where it went. Not many people wear them there." [in Sirdabi]
"Huh." [in Sirdabi] Yasin says, nodding. Maybe the Razmani simply doesn't have that much to offer about wigs. He then takes a larger bite from a half consumed golden-crusted pasty, spending a moment in chewing and swallowing. As he does this, his head seems to idly turn towards the southeast, in the direction of the water. (Consumption)
...
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Part Three: The Time Has Come
[St Loomis, Seaglass Inn, Common Room]
The common room of this inn is homely but welcoming. Greying floorboards and chipped wainscoting show the buiding's age, but it appears well maintained nonetheless. Beside the entry door sits a small table, positioned to enjoy the view through a curtained picture window, while another table lurks in a dimly-lit corner. A generous hearth faces a space set with two trestle tables, with a third running parallel to the bar. Several stools are neatly set in front, while on the bar's other side a swinging door leads to the clamor, warmth, and heat of the kitchens. A wide staircase with a heavy-duty balustrade stands to the side of the bar, ascending to the second story.
A menu full of small drawings is left open on one side of the bar. A notice titled 'Carpenters Wanted' is posted on the wall. A page torn from a book is stuck up with glue on a wall next to up a wide staircase.
Marwa Baz Taa'ha is sitting at a table by the window, holding an assortment of small items in her right hand. Rawiya Kawai is sitting at a table by the window, holding a dry-crumbled leaf of marjoram and a mug with a curved handle in her right hand and holding an almost-finished wrapped log of butter in her left hand. Firouzeh is here, holding a brass-capped reed cane in her right hand.
A light fragrance of fresh-baked bread drifts about.
Cardinal Exits: west: kitchen doors (open)
Other: up a wide staircase and out: set of double doors (open)
The warm and comforting clamor of a commoner dining establishment fills the inn.
Marwa Baz Taa'ha is sitting at a table by the window, fussing with a leather-bound tome and in conversation with a petite coppery haired woman with deep violet eyes. (Room Pose Set)
A lean, ink-eyed man walks into the Seaglass Inn through the set of double doors, wielding a silver-nibbed aquamarine glass pen in his left hand.
Yasin and Firouzeh wander into the inn through the doors, the former looking like he's just finishing some quiet conversation with the latter.
Rawiya Kawai is seated at a table by the window, holding a mug with a curved handle and chatting with an austere Sirdabi woman with copper eyes. (Room Pose Set)
(Quietly): Firouzeh's expression turns quizzical, looking aside to you with furrowed brows. "Perhaps I will go see a show sometime," [in Sirdabi] is all she offers before regarding the inn at large.
A lean, ink-eyed man enters the inn on the heels of you and Firouzeh, aiming a greeting to them and the room, "Good evening." [in Ruvic with a flat countertenor]
A lean, ink-eyed man goes to sit at a mistwood bar set neatly with stools.
"Let me know if you do," [in Sirdabi] Yasin says to Firouzeh. And then he notices a lean, ink-eyed man wandering in right behind them, and he smiles, replacing a thoughtful frown that was on his face. "Good evening, Ighlaf." [in Sirdabi]
A brusque, kerchiefed barmaid approaches a lean, ink-eyed man and takes the order for an imported black tea with a sharp nod, then departs to the back kitchens.
Firouzeh turns her head back at the sound of a lean, ink-eyed man, smiling her own greeting to a lean, ink-eyed man and then those seated at a table by the window. "Good evening, dears." [in Ruvic]
Marwa Baz Taa'ha smiles a little dryly, assessing the tome. "I think I may need to buy a new volume altogether. I do not have the patience for this." [in Sirdabi] she says quietly to Rawiya Kawai. She seems poised to say more, but at the sound of multiple footsteps she looks up toward the entryway. "Grandmother," [in Sirdabi] she greets first, before nodding to you and a lean, ink-eyed man in turn.
A lit large warm hearth flickers and crackles.
Only now does Yasin seem to notice those seated at a table by the window, and he dips his head. "Good evening, Sayyida Baz Taa'ha, Sayyida Kawai." [in Sirdabi]
Nodding her head. Rawiya Kawai replies, "Did it get wet?" [in Sirdabi] before her attention is drawn to a lean, ink-eyed man and Firouzeh. "Hello," [in Sirdabi] she says with a smle at each one in turn. "Are you all well?" [in Sirdabi with a warm mezzo-soprano]
"Well enough," [in Sirdabi] Yasin says, his tone somewhat neutral, or maybe contemplative. "Firo and I were touring the cathedral, a little." [in Sirdabi]
A lean, ink-eyed man aims a smile back at you. Then a thoughtful look overtakes their face. "I think it has been more than a week." [in Ruvic] They call over their shoulder. They pluck a strand of their unruly hair.
A lean, ink-eyed man nods to Firouzeh, "Some walking and sunlight seen today." [in Ruvic]
First, confusion is on Yasin's face. But then... realization. And maybe a little fear -- even if it seems to be in jest. He looks wide-eyed to a lean, ink-eyed man. "You are right. And did I tell you what I learned, Ighlaf?" [in Sirdabi] And he immediately walks over to a mistwood bar set neatly with stools.
You go to stand near a mistwood bar set neatly with stools, joining a lean, ink-eyed man.
Firouzeh manages an easy expression to tell Rawiya Kawai, "Well enough." [in Ruvic] And then to a lean, ink-eyed man, "The sunlight was nice. I caught the last bits of it when I was out earlier." [in Ruvic]
Rawiya Kawai blinks slowly as she looks at the three, eyes peering between all three in turn.
A brusque, kerchiefed barmaid quickly whirls over to serve a small clay teacup to a lean, ink-eyed man at a mistwood bar set neatly with stools, then goes back to other business after taking payment.
A lean, ink-eyed man begins to laugh at the expression from you, then they inquire, "What have you?" [in Ruvic] to you while aiming a smile at Firouzeh.
A lean, ink-eyed man takes out a small clay teacup from a mistwood bar set neatly with stools.
A lean, ink-eyed man takes a drink from a small clay teacup.
At your departure to a mistwood bar set neatly with stools, Firouzeh moves to settle herself down with the pair at a table by the window. (Sit - at a table by the window -)
Yasin grabs a lock of his own shaggy walnut-brown hair -- hair that looks like it probably isn't usually worn this way. "...I asked around, Ighlaf." [in Ruvic] He flits his eyes to and fro. "There... is not a single barber, in all of Saint Loomis." [in Ruvic] He lets go of his own hair, and he holds up a finger. "Not a one." [in Ruvic] Still holding that finger, he flits those honey-brown eyes of his around the room, as if to impart this gesture upon all who dare witness, then back to a lean, ink-eyed man. "That means only one thing, for you and I." [in Ruvic]
(At a table by the window): Rawiya Kawai gives Firouzeh a warm smile as she settles down. "H-llo," [in Sirdabi] she says with a nod.
Firelit shadows prance through the murky surroundings around a lit large warm hearth.
Firouzeh groans out, perhaps at what is overheard from the bar, "Do -not- come to the clinic with your ear hanging off. I will not fix it." [in Ruvic]
A lean, ink-eyed man sighs quietly, slightly dramatically but with real woefulness mixed in. "None?" [in Ruvic] to you.
"I will stitch it on so slow." [in Sirdabi] Rawiya Kawai threatens, grinning.
"None." [in Ruvic] Yasin repeats, grimly.
Marwa Baz Taa'ha closes her warped tome and places it back in a black leather scribing case, beginning to shut the lid. She flits a curious gaze to you and a lean, ink-eyed man before turning to Firouzeh's approach. "How do they mean to cut their hair?" [in Sirdabi] she asks at -that- exhortation.
"The axe awaits us..." [in Ruvic] Yasin then says, quietly. Amused, still, and it is doubtful that he entirely means this particular statement.
Marwa Baz Taa'ha puts a leather-bound tome in a black leather scribing case.
A lean, ink-eyed man matches your grim look, then begins to sip the tea they are sighing into, only to almost inhale it at Firouzeh's words. They cough out a laugh.
A lean, ink-eyed man turns to you, catching their breath. "Shall we go find Inaya, then?" [in Ruvic]
Yasin catches that comment from Firouzeh a little belatedly, and then laughs a little belatedly. He shoots a tired-looking grin to Rawiya Kawai, saying, "Thank you, Sayyida Rawiya. I knew I could count on you." [in Ruvic]
Firouzeh gestures between Marwa Baz Taa'ha and you and a lean, ink-eyed man, wearing a desperate, if amused, look at the former as if to say 'see what I deal with?'.
Yasin looks to a lean, ink-eyed man, considering. "...We can. She did offer, after all. How much do you think she'll charge?" [in Ruvic]
A lean, ink-eyed man ponders the situation.
A lean, ink-eyed man says, "An ear and a leg, if she misses." [in Ruvic]
"...Black tea?" [in Ruvic] Yasin then asks, gesturing to a lean, ink-eyed man's teacup. "I need some more. I'm exhausted." [in Ruvic]
A brusque, kerchiefed barmaid approaches you and takes the order for an imported black tea with a sharp nod, then departs to the back kitchens.
A lean, ink-eyed man grins at you.
In the middle of ordering said tea, Yasin starts laughing again at a lean, ink-eyed man's comment.
Rawiya Kawai "If you two get your leg cut off, I will scream in horrible Elixi at you both." [in Sirdabi]
"If you two get your leg cut off, I will scream in horrible Elixi at you both." [in Sirdabi] Rawiya Kawai replies with a smirk.
"Good," [in Ruvic] Yasin says to Rawiya Kawai, aborting his laughter and finishing his order. "While recovering, we can learn Ilexi, then." [in Ruvic]
A lit large warm hearth flickers and crackles.
A lean, ink-eyed man looks down at their right leg, considering. "It might look better with a wooden leg." [in Ruvic]
From a table by the window, Marwa Baz Taa'ha flits a disbelieving look from you to a lean, ink-eyed man, then Rawiya Kawai, then Firouzeh at last. "I feel quite sorry for you, grandmother. It seems the fighting pit is the least of your concerns," [in Sirdabi] she remarks with a faint smile.
A lean, ink-eyed man nods thoughtful at Rawiya Kawai then in agreement with you. "Yes, and by then I can teach it." [in Ruvic]
"Really, though." [in Ruvic] Yasin remarks, looking to Marwa Baz Taa'ha. He gestures at his shaggy hair. "I cannot tolerate it." [in Ruvic]
Firouzeh sighs and shakes her head, still wearing a grin as she settles back into her chair. "If you find that I have run off to hide in the woods for good, do blame Ighlaf and Yasin for me," [in Ruvic] she comments to Marwa Baz Taa'ha.
(At a table by the window): Laughing quietly, Rawiya Kawai replies, "-ll -v-r - h--rc-t? -s- - kn-f-..." [in Sirdabi] She hesitates, "-- ---'t. T--- --- c-t t---- --- -ff." [in Sirdabi]
Rawiya Kawai chuckles to Firouzeh. "Oh, right, leave them with me, then?" [in Sirdabi] She pretends to look put upon.
A lean, ink-eyed man calls over to Rawiya Kawai, "I'll have you know I didn't cut it off the first or last time. But it wasn't nice." [in Ruvic] They grin after everyone's words.
Rawiya Kawai grins at a lean, ink-eyed man. "Did you use a knife?" [in Sirdabi]
"You must earn your place among us, Sayyida." [in Ruvic] Yasin says in a mock-grim tone to Rawiya Kawai. "That will be your first test." [in Ruvic] There's an odd quality to his tone, like amusement covering over exhaustion and something else. But he looks a little jovial at the jesting.
"I have a scalpul. I passed the test." [in Sirdabi] Rawiya Kawai replies to you.
A lean, ink-eyed man nods at Rawiya Kawai.
A brusque, kerchiefed barmaid quickly whirls over to serve a small clay teacup to you at a mistwood bar set neatly with stools, then goes back to other business after taking payment.
"Braver than me." [in Ruvic] Yasin says to a lean, ink-eyed man. "I haven't dared--" [in Ruvic] He shoots a look to Rawiya Kawai. "Oh? Do you cut hair?" [in Ruvic]
Firouzeh snorts out a laugh to nods at Rawiya Kawai as if she has come up with a great idea. "Rawiya is in charge of all hair-cutting-related injuries from now on," [in Ruvic] she decrees. "I am retired." [in Ruvic]
A lean, ink-eyed man snickers.
You take out a small clay teacup from a mistwood bar set neatly with stools.
A brusque, kerchiefed barmaid approaches Firouzeh and takes the order for an imported black tea with a sharp nod, then departs to the back kitchens.
Firouzeh endeavors to enjoy her new-found retirement with an order of tea.
A lean, ink-eyed man takes a drink from a small clay teacup.
Marwa Baz Taa'ha smiles a little more openly to Firouzeh at that. "Well-deserved." [in Sirdabi] She considers the banter for some time before taking a sip from a small clay teacup.
Yasin gives an amused smile to Firouzeh, while lifting a small clay teacup to his lips and taking a long sip of the drink. "...Good. Needed this." [in Ruvic] He doesn't exactly clarify what, specifically, he needed. The tea, probably. (Consumption)
The hot liquid is rather bitter, the tannins heavily influencing a brew of older leaves, but it is still recognizably black tea.
A lean, ink-eyed man lifts their own teacup in a cheers motion to you and a nod.
Marwa Baz Taa'ha takes a drink from a small clay teacup.
Laughing, Rawiya Kawai says, "Ah, Ferouzeh. You wound me." [in Sirdabi] She turns to a lean, ink-eyed man, A grin flickers across her face, before she turns to you. "Oh yessy. How do you stand yourself. Just use a knife to cut your hair a little shorter than it is before. And keep it straight. Put it in a tail and then whack it off." [in Sirdabi]
A lit large warm hearth flickers and crackles.
"So, where do you think Inaya is hiding--" [in Ruvic] Yasin begins to ask a lean, ink-eyed man, but then that nickname is spoken. 'Yessy'. Yasin tilts forward slightly, as if he's miming having been punched in the gut. "I see we're sticking with 'Yessy'?" [in Ruvic] He asks, grimly.
Rawiya Kawai turns to Marwa Baz Taa'ha, and upon seeing the open smle, she leans back slightly in her seat.
"Or simply grow your hair," [in Sirdabi] Marwa Baz Taa'ha advises noncommittally as an alternative as the conversation shifts.
A lean, ink-eyed man hums and answers you, "The hostel, Keely's, or the graveyard. Lest she stayed visiting Kinsa." [in Ruvic]
Rawiya Kawai chuckles as she waves a hand dismissively. "And then you can put it in a braid." [in Sirdabi] she suggests, and then, "Yes, of course, Yessie." [in Sirdabi] she says to you.
"...I am -not- growing my hair." [in Ruvic] Yasin replies to Marwa Baz Taa'ha. "And I'm not-- braiding--" [in Ruvic] He looks to Firouzeh. "Firo, did you put them up to this?" [in Ruvic]
A lean, ink-eyed man wrinkles their nose at the suggestion of growing their hair. "I'm afraid I'm not letting it reach my waist again." [in Ruvic]
A brusque, kerchiefed barmaid quickly whirls over to serve a small clay teacup to Firouzeh at a table by the window, then goes back to other business after taking payment.
"Again?" [in Sirdabi] Rawiya Kawai asks to a lean, ink-eyed man. "Oooh, do tell? Was it beautifully lucious?" [in Sirdabi] she asks, grinning, "And did you put it in a braid?" [in Sirdabi]
Firouzeh laughs a full-bellied laugh, one that shakes her frame as you becomes distraught by the braiding. "I couldn't have planned it this well if I tried," [in Ruvic] she assures you once the chuckles have subsided.
A lit large warm hearth flickers and crackles.
Yasin turns away in mock-betrayal from Firouzeh, holding out his left hand as if it were some shield. And then he says to a lean, ink-eyed man, "...The hostel, Keely's, or the graveyard... well, we can try all three." [in Ruvic]
A lean, ink-eyed man scratches their chin and eventually answers Rawiya Kawai. "It didn't take well to braids." [in Ruvic]
"But you need to put beads in it! Sparkly beautiful beads." [in Sirdabi] She looks as if she would swoon happily, but laughs as her eyes twinkle. As Rawiya Kawai's hand moves to her own locks, which are tied beneath the headscarf, though flow freely against her back. "What about just a smidge? To your shoulders?" [in Sirdabi] She grins, and then looks to Marwa Baz Taa'ha. "What do you think?" [in Sirdabi] To a lean, ink-eyed man, Rawiya Kawai replies, "Ah, braids are beautiful, though." [in Sirdabi]
A lean, ink-eyed man nods to you, "Shall we look, then? Get it over with quickly." [in Ruvic] Their lips twist upwards.
Marwa Baz Taa'ha closes her case with a look of amusement, flitting her eyes from the pair at the bar to Firouzeh.
Marwa Baz Taa'ha closes the bronze clasps of a black leather scribing case.
A lean, ink-eyed man straightens to stand at a mistwood bar set neatly with stools.
Yasin gives a lean, ink-eyed man a considering look at that comment, then nods. "No use delaying, right?" [in Ruvic] He lifts his left hand up in the air, a quick cutting motion near his head. Probably indicating a haircut. "Over and done with." [in Ruvic] He then proceeds to quaff the rest of his tea.
You quaff down everything from a small clay teacup.
You have finished the contents of a small clay teacup.
A lean, ink-eyed man chugs down everything from a small clay teacup.
The contents of a small clay teacup have been finished.
A lean, ink-eyed man sets a small clay teacup aside.
To Rawiya Kawai, though, Yasin shoots a grin and shakes his head. "I'll put beads in my -beard-, Rawiya, when I am twenty years older and grow one out." [in Ruvic] With a firm nod, he adds on, "As is our way." [in Ruvic]
You set a small clay teacup aside.
A lean, ink-eyed man inclines their head to Rawiya Kawai, "Never suited me too well." [in Ruvic] Then finishes their tea to follow Yasin.
A lean, ink-eyed man falls in with you.
Firouzeh smiles across the table at Marwa Baz Taa'ha and then makes a move for her tea forgotten in the banter.
Rawiya Kawai smirks. "As is your way, right." [in Sirdabi] She flaps a hand. "Go on, don't cut your head off." [in Sirdabi]
"Alright. Where are we going first?" [in Ruvic] Yasin asks, a little pep in his step. From the hair-fear, probably. Or maybe the black tea. He lofts a hand to those in the inn as they walk out the door. "Get the bandages ready for us!" [in Ruvic]
...
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Part Four: The Axe. Well, Almost.
You step carefully onto a battered old pier, taking slow, heavy steps, as if to announce their arrival.
A lean, ink-eyed man steps carefully onto the battered old pier from the wharf.
[St Loomis, Lonely Pier]
Stretching far out into the sea as if it could set itself adrift upon the waves, this battered pier has fewer ships docked along its faintly crooked length than do its sturdier brethren to the south. In the absence of the usual dockside clamor, one can actually hear the quiet lapping of the waves against the pilings and the faint eerie creaking of masts in the wind -- the flutter of trapped sails yearning to be free.
A well-made iron axe An iron-banded fishing bucket is here.
Inaya stands far out on the pier, engaged in combat with imaginary monsters, apparently, weapon drawn and flashing, wielding a battered scimitar in her right hand. A lean, ink-eyed man is here, holding an inkwell in his right hand.
The clear night is pleasantly mild.
Cardinal Exits: northwest, southwest (water), northeast (water), and southeast (water)
A lean, ink-eyed man stands at the end of the pier, far out of distance from Inaya, and then solemnly proclaims instead of greeting her, "It is time." [in Ruvic] Their lips begin twitching after several moments.
Yasin and a lean, ink-eyed man carefully step out onto the pier, the former taking heavy steps -- like someone who perhaps wishes to announce to a sword-practicing Inaya that there's a person or two on their way. He calls over, "Good evening!" [in Sirdabi]
Mild breezes meander about, gentle beneath starry skies.
Inaya stops all her movement almost immediately when she makes a turn and finds you and a lean, ink-eyed man, weapon disappearing like a reflex as she straightens to face them. Sweat-sheened, she somehow manages to just-- cease. Suddenly and utterly still, but for a nod by way of greeting, and her heavy, somewhat rasping breath.
Inaya sheathes a battered scimitar in a broad, carved leather sheath.
A teal-blue first quarter descends from the deep night.
Yasin holds still a bit, nodding to Inaya and looking a bit impressed as Inaya just... ceases. He shoots a look to a lean, ink-eyed man, then back to Inaya. "We've come uh. For the axe." [in Sirdabi] He gestures to a well-made iron axe, then lifts a hand and gestures at his shaggy hair. "There is not a single barber in this town." [in Sirdabi]
A lean, ink-eyed man nods woefully alongside your words. "None." [in Ruvic]
Inaya blinks, as though for a moment not getting it, looking between a lean, ink-eyed man and you, back and forth. And then, understanding dawns, and so does a slow, unashamedly wicked smirk.
A lean, ink-eyed man watches the dawning, and looks both a mixed of amused and afraid. One more than the other, possibly.
The stars shine down from the midnight blue firmament, twinkling softly in the mildness of the night.
Unlike a lean, ink-eyed man, it is definitely a sudden fear in Yasin's eyes at Inaya's wicked smirk. Like a man who is thinking, 'Was this a bad idea?' But he stands firm and gives Inaya a little nod-nod.
"Truly, you want the axe?" [in Sirdabi] Inaya rasps, glancing down at a well-made iron axe, then back at a lean, ink-eyed man and you, smirk still firmly in place despite the fact that she's asking. "It is sharp enough. But I never have tried, with one before." [in Sirdabi with a hoarsely broken, half-whispered contralto]
Yasin gives a few blinks to Inaya at that question, and then gives a lean, ink-eyed man a quick look.
A lean, ink-eyed man slows gives their own nod-nod, a little slower, then looks over at you. They might be second guessing for a moment.
A lean, ink-eyed man reaches out to touch a small glass bottle charm.
Yasin doesn't hold that look long, before emphatically shaking his head to Inaya. "No-- the axe was a joke." [in Sirdabi] He looks to a lean, ink-eyed man. "Right?" [in Sirdabi] He flits those honey-brown wide-eyes over to Inaya once more. "You said you're good at hair." [in Sirdabi]
Out of Character: a lean, ink-eyed man rolled will at hard difficulty and the result was a pass.
The mildest touch of a breeze caresses the night beneath starry skies.
Inaya gives a silent little unvoiced snigger, flashing a lightning-strike of a grin to you at this. She shrugs, nods a little. "Aye. Used t'do it on the C-- the Cat. And the Itheko. For my crew. But I had proper fuckin' tools, not an axe." [in Sirdabi]
A lean, ink-eyed man steels themselves, then says to Inaya, "I'll accept a haircut you give me." [in Ruvic] They twitch a grin, "But dunno who has proper tools about." [in Ruvic]
Yasin seems to relax a little as the idea of axe-cutting begins to fade away into the background of the conversation. He grins similarly, but then asks in a thoughtful tone of voice, "Hmm. You need barber's tools? Could you make do with maybe... a steel blade? I... could try to make something -- it won't be perfect, though." [in Sirdabi]
"Shit, 'f I thought you was serious, I would'a looked for somethin'," [in Sirdabi] Inaya snorts, with a shake of her head and a glance between a lean, ink-eyed man and you again, still looking heavily amused. "All I got's the axe, my sword... and that saw. Don't fuckin' recommend that," [in Sirdabi] she notes with a brief grin. She shrugs to you. "Aye, knife'll do, or a razor, long's I can get it sharp's shit." [in Sirdabi]
Gentle warmth pervades the air beneath a clear firmament, as soft breezes chase about carrying the scent of sun-warmed ocean.
Yasin actually barks out a nervous laugh at the notion of a saw. "No-- no, not the saw." [in Sirdabi] He shakes his head, some mixture of amusement and actual disappointment, like he thought this haircut was going to happen. He runs a hand through that shaggy walnut-brown mess atop his head. "Hmm. I can make you a... steel utility knife, tonight, if you want. A razor... that might take me a couple of days to get right." [in Sirdabi] He looks between Inaya and a lean, ink-eyed man, expression contemplative.
A lean, ink-eyed man grins upwards at Inaya. "We made a pact, if we couldn't find a barber after a week." [in Ruvic] They scratch at their cheek, "It seemed a good idea then and now... mostly." [in Ruvic] they glance at a well-made iron axe.
Yasin follows a lean, ink-eyed man's gaze to a well-made iron axe, and gives a lean, ink-eyed man a little head shake - 'No'. Mostly with his eyes.
"Mean, the axe is here, and it's plenty fuckin' sharp," [in Sirdabi] Inaya says, like she's defending its honour perhaps, gesturing over toward a well-made iron axe like the paragon of virtue and goodness that it most assuredly is. She grins.
A lean, ink-eyed man mimics your motion and grimaces at their own hair. They squint at you. "It'd be shorter." [in Ruvic]
A lean, ink-eyed man begins giggling then at Inaya's words, and covers their mouth with their hand to muffle themselves.
Yasin returns that squint to a lean, ink-eyed man, then grabs a lock of his hair again. "I trust you, Inaya..." [in Sirdabi] He says, turning to Inaya. "And it is a sharp axe. But I'd rather not watch you come charging at me with that... fine weapon." [in Sirdabi]
Yasin then relases that lock of hair, letting it return to its resting-mess. He eyes the mouth-covered a lean, ink-eyed man, and smiles. "What do you think?" [in Sirdabi]
The night air has a pleasantly gentle feel, soft as the glow of moons and stars.
A lean, ink-eyed man coughs and clears their throat, then nods to you. "Proper tool will allow her expertise to shine." [in Ruvic]
Inaya flashes another grin at a lean, ink-eyed man. She shrugs. "Shit, you really fuckin' believe me, too," [in Sirdabi] she rasps, entirely too smug and pleased with herself. "Find me a knife, and I can do it." [in Sirdabi]
Yasin nods to a lean, ink-eyed man first, then to Inaya at that comment, still grinning. "It might take me..." [in Sirdabi] He considers the project, a thoughtful frown and a shifting of his jaw. "...Steel knife, iron handle... pound the rivet ... brief temper, quenching ... " [in Sirdabi] He trails off and thinks a bit, then says, "If I work quickly, maybe, before the hour's up." [in Sirdabi]
A lean, ink-eyed man wavers their hand, "Well, I could not help axing a question. But would dearly love this shortened too. It will grow again." [in Ruvic] They grin at Inaya. "None will be worse than my own attempts." [in Ruvic]
Yasin shoots a -look- to a lean, ink-eyed man at 'axing'. His brows arch, his expression an amused scold.
"Don't matter if it's shitty. Long's it holds an edge for more'n a single cut," [in Sirdabi] Inaya says with a shrug to you, before giving another snicker at a lean, ink-eyed man that she clearly doesn't control well enough, and turns into a few harsh coughs aside.
A lean, ink-eyed man aims an entirely innocent look at you. No, no their lips aren't twitching to smile.
The stars shine down from the midnight blue firmament, twinkling softly in the mildness of the night.
A lean, ink-eyed man grins at Inaya.
Something about that command from Inaya, about the work potentially being 'shitty', causes a little quirk of Yasin's brow, and he looks back to Inaya. "Shitty?" [in Sirdabi] he asks. "Oh no. For that comment, Inaya, I am making you a fine, steel razor. Sharpened perfectly, with a comfortable handle and grip." [in Sirdabi] He nods firmly. "...Couple of evenings from now." [in Sirdabi]
A lean, ink-eyed man glances between you and Inaya, content to observe. They nod their agreement to you, though.
Inaya thunks a fist to her sternum a couple of times and clears her throat as the coughing subsides, cocking a brow at you at this, her smirk twisting crookedly, almost as though in puzzlement. "Just meant you could go fuckin' -find- one if you want, 'stead'a goin' to all that trouble, but... you wanna do that, shit, okay then." [in Sirdabi] She shakes her head amusedly.
Mild breezes meander about, gentle beneath starry skies.
Apparently the young Razmani smith's little nerve of pride had been prodded just enough, for Yasin shakes his head as Inaya speaks the word 'find', and says with a smile, "I do. I'll give you a good razor, so that..." [in Sirdabi] He looks to a lean, ink-eyed man. "How'd you put it? A proper tool, will allow your expertise to shine." [in Sirdabi] He looks back to Inaya with a wide grin now, and he dips his head. "Besides, you can add it to your uh..." [in Sirdabi] He gestures to a well-made iron axe. "...Your... armaments." [in Sirdabi]
Inaya flicks a look back to a well-made iron axe, then to a lean, ink-eyed man and then you once more, that grin flicking on like a lightswitch once more, and then gone as quickly back to a smirk. "Ain't even tried swingin' that one like to fight, yet. Figure I should?" [in Sirdabi] she asks with a musing sort of air to her hoarse tone.
A lean, ink-eyed man begins laughing and grinning at your repeating of their words. They nod along. "A good set of tools for shaping..." [in Ruvic] They think a moment.. "Topiary." [in Ruvic]
A lean, ink-eyed man grins at Inaya.
A lean, ink-eyed man says, "Think watching you with the blade earlier, better than I would." [in Ruvic]
Yasin tracks Inaya's gaze to the axe, then chuckles. "You could. It is a hefty weapon, even if it is intended for wood, and not... people." [in Sirdabi] But then as he's about to say something more, a lean, ink-eyed man says 'Topiary', and the young man starts laughing, looking away from them both, gazing at the sea, instead.
Mild breezes meander about, gentle beneath starry skies.
A lean, ink-eyed man grins even wider, looking lighter.
Yasin's laughter continues for a length of time, his stout body shaking a little as the sound of it finally abates, and he looks back to a lean, ink-eyed man and Inaya. "...Topiary. You're... terrible, Ighlaf." [in Sirdabi] That judgmental comment is clearly stated with mirth.
...
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That's it! Thanks for reading. Hope you all enjoyed the tale of axe haircuts!