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Post by Vanitypirate on Mar 27, 2018 18:54:34 GMT -8
Ponytail shook his head.
"My father is an Englishman, and I did not know my mother." He watched with confusion and wonder as the man went about toying with the bag, releases the contents within.
It all looked like junk to Ponytail.
"What are 'Jacks'?" He asked, curiously, taking a step closer.
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Post by azmoham on Mar 27, 2018 19:11:43 GMT -8
"A game, you play by, well, hrmm..." The houndmaster furrowed his brow in thought, squinting at the little satchel. "It'd be easier to show you, more enjoyable for the both of us as well, I'd say. How about it?" Assuming I still remember how to play that is... His toothy smile returned in force. "Just give me a moment or two more and I'll be ready to leave." He explained, stepping away from the very French-sounding Englishman and heading for the display case. Once there, he squinted at the various figurines before his gaze once more alighted on the dog, he plucked it from its spot and made his way to the back of the store. Once there, the nonplussed-looking shopkeep mumbled some figure under his breath, to which Trent responded by taking his coinpurse and removing three tarnished coins from its hold then depositing them on the counter. The clerk took the gold without an word, and offered the bearded lawman a small nod and the barest attempts at a smile before the effort apparently overtook him and the smile slipped away, followed shortly by the man himself as he eloped to a backroom. Content, Trent dropped the small figure into an interior pocket while the jacks were placed into one of his flap pockets. Finally, turning back to Ponytail, he nodded to the door just as he began to walk towards it himself.
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Post by Vanitypirate on Mar 28, 2018 5:59:10 GMT -8
"Will we be partaking in Jacks?" Ponytail asked; clear as day, the prospect excited him. It always pleased him to learn of the games the denizens of a village played. He'd always found them to be a uniting factor between them.
Though, typically it was the children who joined in such things.
"I look forward to it, Mr. Trent." He nodded enthusiastically and followed after the man.
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Post by azmoham on Mar 29, 2018 13:59:45 GMT -8
"Indeed we will sir, and so do I!" He smiled, stepping back out onto the street. By now the sun had sunk low to horizon, and the sky had been turned a bloody red that deepened into a deep purple on the opposite edge of the sky. He turned his face upwards, and watched a few thin wisps of cloud pass silently overhead like ships at sea. He thought of the harbors of the city, of the dock-men at their business, moving cargo and loading and unloading, calling and shouting and moving in such an organized tumble. He looked back towards earth and when his sight met the little market once more, he felt achingly heartsick. The wet feel of Rudy's nose on his palm brought him back to the present and he rubbed the top of her head, his thumb tracing little circles just between her eyes. She sat there, quietly shifting her weight from one paw to the other, then yawning greatly and shutting her eyes against the fading sun which fell against her face. Such a peaceful creature He reflected on this while waiting for Ponytail to emerge from the shop in tow.
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Post by Vanitypirate on Mar 30, 2018 9:23:22 GMT -8
Ponytail emerged from the shop not long after, eyes set eagerly on the toy of Jacks as he followed with a skip in his step. It always delighted him to partake in the local culture's games, and from the look of things, this wasn't too different from what he'd seen. Though he never had time for games as a boy, himself... He briefly wondered after whom this game, 'Jacks', was named for. Ponytail surmised that it must have been someone significant.
He rubbed his ungloved hands together and grinned,
"How do we begin?"
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Post by azmoham on Mar 31, 2018 7:56:12 GMT -8
"I'd say we should find a good place to sit, know anywhere that fits the bill?" The older man asked, once more looking Ponytail as he too exited the shop. He supposed the most likely location would be the bar he'd seen upon his arrival, but better to ask and be surprised than to make an assumption and miss something. That was a creed that'd served him well during his time on the force, and he saw no reason to give it up now, even in this most innocuous of times. "By the way, you mentioned your Father was English, hrmmmm, well then I must ask, how did you ever get that accent of yours? You sound just like a Parisian, born and bred!" He asked, not wanting to be rude but too curious to leave the matter alone. It didn't make sense how a man could claim to be English, have an English father and yet still by all appearances be as French as anyone he'd ever met from the very country itself.
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Post by Vanitypirate on Mar 31, 2018 8:07:45 GMT -8
The man's gingery brows knitted as he frowned; the news was quite troubling. He smoothed the feather atop his head in thought...
"I have not been told before that I have an accent." He sighed, allowing the thought another few moments to bother him before attending to other matters... such as where to sit.
"There are many places to sit away from the roads." The hunter stroked his moustache, curling it to a point. "The tavern has tables and chairs that you may sit upon, free of charge. But if you are like me, and prefer the outdoors, you may sit upon the walls along the graveyard. This allows you to meet new people as they walk past, as well, if you would like to talk. That is what I enjoy."
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Post by azmoham on Mar 31, 2018 8:20:47 GMT -8
He looked at the shadows, which slanted madly in the fading light, and then back towards the moon which even now was beginning its slow ascent into the sky and shook his head. "Pahh, no good comes from meddling in a graveyard at dusk, young man." he warned, sounding for just a moment exactly like the old man he was. Superstition was something he'd tried to avoid and yet it clung doggedly too him, and he always found himself throwing pinches of salt over his shoulder and knocking on wood, the sort of things his own grandmother had advised him to do when he was but a young lad upon her knee, staring up into those ancient eyes. I wonder, is that how I must look now? He'd never considered himself to be old, and yet now he could seem to feel it tightening around him like a funeral shroud and he shivered. "No, the tavern sounds like a better bet to me, mmmm?" He forced a semblance of a jolliness back into his wrinkled face and, hardly waiting for Ponytail, began striding back down the street from whence he came, Rudy trotting loyally after him, raising her nose to the air to pick out some scent or another on the faint breeze.
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Post by Vanitypirate on Mar 31, 2018 8:54:45 GMT -8
Ponytail glanced, concerned, in the direction of the graveyard, though he could not see it from his position. Realizing that Trent was already starting off, Ponytail blinked hard and jogged after Trent.
"Good choice, Mister Trent!" He called as he closed the distance between them, his pace slowing to fall into stride next to the older man. He tugged at his own silken collar, and then asked worriedly,
"What happens when one stays in the graveyard after dusk, Mister Trent?"
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Post by azmoham on Mar 31, 2018 9:02:01 GMT -8
The old man paused in his walk for just a moment, brining a finger up to scratch at his furry chin and stroke his beard in thought. "Nothing good, that's for sure. Living folks don't have any business mucking about in the dead's home, just like they don't have any business mucking about here on earth." He said, not entirely sure if there was any substantiated tradition behind what he said but quite certain of it anyways. After all, once he moved on to his own eternal rest, the last thing he'd want is some old fool and a Frenchman playing jacks on his grave! He shook his head, chuffing in amusement at the idea. "I'm no fool, but I don't think the dead and living ought to mix more than's strictly necessary to get the dead where they belong, in the ground." he said with a note of finality, nodding his head as if confirming the idea to himself and then continuing his walk onwards albeit it at a decreased pace.
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Post by Vanitypirate on Mar 31, 2018 9:30:03 GMT -8
"Ah, yes, I see..." Ponytail still glanced fearfully back to the graveyard, which now came into view as the pair neared the tavern. It was always a difficult thing to fully ascertain what pleased or displeased the dead. He supposed it was fair, as the living were just as finicky when it came to what was polite and what was not.
Still, being unintentionally rude did not usually spell doom for the parties involved.
"How many people can play Jacks? Shall we invite others?" The hunter found his excitement picking up as they neared their destination.
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Post by azmoham on Apr 2, 2018 10:12:12 GMT -8
"The more the merrier, as I always say!" Trent chuckled, only casting a momentary glance towards the grey tombs and headstones which stood in stately rows behind the low stone wall of the graveyard. What they need He thought to himself Is a proper fence. Perhaps if he ever found himself for want of work, he could set about getting the job done himself. His first love had always been law, but he was no slouch when it came to working with his hands. He'd repaired enough chairs and mended enough fences to know which way to hold a hammer, so perhaps should his ventures in the oh-so-fabled dungeons fail to come to much, he could turn his hand instead to construction. "This place could certainly use it." he mumbled to himself, likely too quiet for the not-Frenchman beside him to hear. "So, nobody's ever told you about that accent eh? Not that it's a bad one by any means, just that, well, it does strike me as a bit strange." He wasn't sure how to approach the topic, so like so many other things he simply plunged in and hoped things would resolve themselves neatly by the end of it. To be fair, this 'Ponytail' didn't seem the type who took offense easy, at least, that was Trent's hope as he prodded at the man.
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Post by Vanitypirate on Apr 2, 2018 13:27:19 GMT -8
"Eh, no..." Ponytail shrugged weakly. It was a strange thought. He always assumed that he would sound like what people he stayed around, that that was how it all worked.
Granted, the only English-speaking person he truly was around was his father.
"It was only my family I have spoken in English with. We traveled much." It was making his head spin.
He shrugged again. It was all he could do, besides open the tavern door for Trent. "I would much rather think about Jacks."
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Post by azmoham on Apr 2, 2018 13:34:32 GMT -8
The older man nodded, not entirely satisfied but unwilling to push the matter and risk the companionship he'd just gained, He loved Rudy but she wasn't much for jacks, unfortunately. "Very well then, no matter, makes no difference to me in the end I suppose." He hummed as he made to enter the establishment. Granted, it was still terribly strange, but that was what this place was supposed to be right? Strange. But if the oddest thing he encountered was a dusty toyshop and a Frenchman who didn't know he was French, then Trent anticipated a very quiet life indeed here. Hopefully not too quiet, wouldn't want to get bored after all "Now, as for jacks, there can be as many players as you can fit around a table and jacks you have to play with, although it generally works best with two or three men, preferably after a round of drinks and with a few coins to wager." he gave his comrade a cheeky grin, nudging him gently with one broad elbow before entering the establishment proper. [Trent enters the Tavern]
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Post by black379 on Apr 5, 2018 17:30:04 GMT -8
"Really?" Tilly cast her, over her shoulder, a look of mild surprise before continuing on to dance all the way to the door. "Count yourself lucky. All weddings are dreadfully boring." She chuckled and pushed it open with her free hand, the other safely cradling the soup. Her back propped it open and she motioned for Courcy to exit first. With a wink, she added, "'Cept mine, of course-- it'll be a criminal amount of fun." Escaping the tavern into fresher air, Courcy was slightly more comfortable. Though she used a hand to shift the cloak about her collar, as it fit closer than she was accustomed to. Courcy rubbed the last of her sniffles from her nose and managed a smile to match Tilly's excitement. Her happiness for her friend was bittersweet. And even though Courcy wished so much to be in Tilly's place, the other woman was more deserving of it. "You'll look beautiful in a dress. If not totally foppish."
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