Eventually leading her to the door of what appeared to be a rather decrepit looking shack, the enscorcelled man pointed at the door before speaking,
"He'll be here. Just knock," he said rather dreamily.
"Mind the youngins," he said cryptically with the same tone before turning and walking away from her, leaving her with one decision: To knock, or not to knock.
Nel raised her hand to the door, hesitating. What was she to expect within? The Broker, often called the Breaker by those who viewed him less favourably, was an unpredictable man. Her sources had suggested he would by sympathetic to her plight but his help was not guaranteed. Or, they had said, it may not be the kind of help you will want. She felt like a fool, standing in this tumbledown alley with no real plan, jumping from source to source hoping to find a man no one really knew. She knocked anyway.
Several tense moments passed before a small voice could be heard from within the shack, "Who's there," the voice asked, sounding strangely like a child. On the inside of the shack, two other children laid in waiting, one hiding in a corner under some refuse and a blanket--bat in hand--while the other, a boy, stood by an oddly large and out of place stone fireplace that had no real business being in the shack.
The child who spoke through the door, another boy, piped up again, sounding wary, and even a bit on afraid, "W-why are you here?" There was the smallest amount of franticness in his voice.
Nel stood, startled for a moment. There was a fear, so stark and
real in the child’s demeanor but his words were… blank. Grey seeps around them, a real wariness of this stranger but other than that, nothing. Nel was used to dealing with false happiness where there was anger, sadness where there was glee, but this was jarring. She suspected that was the point. It is clear these children acted as a barrier of sorts, a misdirection.
Taking a breath she quietly asks,
“I was hoping you could help me find someone, your employer, perhaps? The Deal Broker.” Within the safety of the shack the children exchanged glances. The girl in the corner nodded, she was clearly the eldest, despite the boy at the door being the tallest. After a moment of silence they opened the door for her, with the three of them all giving her strange looks, though the tall boy's expression was easiest to read--he was suspiscious. "Mmm. You're Prae...and weird," the girl said, looking her up and down before walking over to the fireplace.
The children appeared to be between the ages of 7 and 12, their clothes in bad condition with dirt and loose threads apparent. The girl reached up into the fireplace, arm disappearing, before she seemed to tug something. Arm coming back out she stomped a particular wooden board in an eight knock pattern, before stomping another twice. "He'll be up ina moment," she said, meeting the prae's eyes with a rather hard look--especially for a child.
It appeared that living on the streets did nothing for a child's emotions.
Stepping away from the fireplace as a faint grinding sound occurred, the girl watched their guest's expression as the fireplace split in half, sliding to the left and right, as a man--hat first--rose out from the floor. It appeared to be some kind of elevator that had brought him up, though a rather small one.
Finishing his ascent, the middle-aged man glanced between the children and threw up his hands, "Ya know, you really ought notta just call me for any ol' bloke, kids." The boys stuck their tongues out at him, and he smiled, a twinkle of mischief in his eyes before he looked to the stranger among them. Sauntering from the fireplace-turned elevator, the Broker tilted his head as he approached her, before extending his hand for her to shake. "Ain't got no real name for you ta call me, milady, but most call me Bree, so that'll hafta do." He smiled at her, his new orleans accent coloring every word with a rainbow of jazzy flavor. "What might I call you, mmm Ms. Mysterious?" he asked with an oddly genial smirk.
Faced with his odd charm and affable demeanour Nel couldn’t help but grin at Bree,
“You can call me Nel. I’ve heard you’re a man who can help me find someone.” Nel’s stomach fluttered slightly. Normally that might suggest something insidious but this, she’s sure, was just nerves.
“I don’t have much to offer you but a sob story and some anti-Licentia sentiments.” Nodding slowly, his eyes becoming distant as he considered her words, the Broker nodded and lightly put a hand on her shoulder, before gesturing towards the lift. "Well let's go on down where it's a little less...well, uncomfortable, and you can tell me what I can help ya with. Sound alright?" He removed his hand, smiling at her in that same disarming way. If she used her senses, she'd know there was nothing hostile or even sinister about his intentions.
His words were the soft, comfortable blue of an afternoon sky. This colour was familiar to Nel, the simple colour of a frank and honest word. Most people in Priscus, living their day to day lives, spoke this way. It was only since coming to Ominar more frequently that she had learnt how easily dishonesty could flow from others (how
naive she had felt). Nel sighed, relieved,
"That sounds perfect." Nodding he followed her onto the two person lift, before saluting the children and tapping his foot twice on the floor. Immediately the lift began moving downwards at a rather slow pace. "Quite tha time to be comin' to anyone with such sentiments," he said casually, glancing at her briefly before a buzz in his pocket had him extract a phone and briefly read a message.
He chuckled before continuing, "Though I do suppose that many have such sentiments these days." He didn't make any statements about whether he agreed or disagreed, strangely enough. After a minute or so the lift stopped opening up to a cozy looking bunker-like office. On a couch to their left as they entered was a sleeping woman, and in that same direction there was a doorway with no door, and in that room there was a rather scholarly looking man, unconscious. "Don't mind him. Gave me some trouble earlier, had to bring him in on a favor. Rather popular guy actually," he said with another chuckle, circling around his desk and taking a seat, feet kicked up. He gestured towards a rather comfortable looking chair. "Need anythin' ta drink, scotch, soda, water?"
Nel felt strangely at ease, despite her bizzare situation. Bree's unusual cast of characters scattered around the room were oddly comforting.
What have I gotten myself into She thought, slightly hysterically.
"Bree, " She said, not unkindly,
"I appreciate the pleasantries." She really did.
"But I've not got much time." "No worries," he said, pouring himself a glass of scotch even as he did. "Please, do tell what tha trouble is. I'm all ears," he said, glancing at the sleeping woman briefly before flicking a coin with the heel of his boot in her general direction.
It hit her on the forehead, causing her to stir and rub hear head. "Tha hell, Bree?" Said the woman as her eyes opened to look at the man who was her elder brother. The eyes were slits, though she looked otherwise human. "Need a notetaker sis," he said with a smile, before glancing at the Prae, "Your name, if ya will miss. I hate to pry, but if I'm to help, I'll need ta know. Oh, and don't mind her eyes, Ana's not full Licentia. Not even Licentia willingly mind you, we've no love nor hate for their ilk."
At his words, Anastaesia grumbled, rising to a seated position before grabbing a pen and notepad from her brother's desk. The two then waited expectantly for their guest to win.
A quiet groan could be heard from the still unconscious man in the other room.
Nel was sure she should be wary of giving this strange man her name, her story; if she was caught here by her minders she'd be kept hidden in Priscus for another three decades. And yet she's not wary at all. There is nothing to suggest she should distrust him, not in his voice, the edges of his mind or the pit of her stomach.
"Annalise Langley. My mother was Hestor Langley, a UN ambassador." A good woman, Nel didn't add but it was clear in her tone.
"She was murdered many years ago by Szayeis. I wish to find him. To-" She hesitated, to what? To kill him herself? Don't be absurd. To bring him to justice? It would never happen. To find out
why? That sounded right.
"-well, I don't rightly know. To see him brought down, perhaps. I know that I'm still young." Barely more than a child by Prae standards. "But I'm not so naive to think I could do that on my own." As the young Prae mentioned the identity and station of her mother, the Broker nodded, though he continued to listen as his sister jotted down notes for the record. When she had finished, the man let things sit in silence for a few moments before taking a drink from his glass of scotch and then setting that glass down on the table. "You're right ta think that you couldn't handle that one on yer lonesome," he said, thoughtful, his smile not as apparent as he pondered the issue at hand. "I can do ya a solid and see what information I can...ascertain about his whereabouts," he said as he extracted his card and handed it to her. "For now I know he was last sighted traveling in the direction of our beautiful city of Ominar," he said with a small smile, but a warning look in his eyes as he met her own.
"That card has my sister's contact info, we'll keep in touch. As to your end of the deal, I'm liable to call in a small favor in the future," he said vaguely as he fished out a rather old looking leatherbound book from a drawer in his desk and set it on the table before them. He flipped the book open without looking at it, paging through it while he glanced between Analise and his sister. "We'll both sign this here contract, because I think in this instance, it'd be best I bind myself to our contract so I don't get you in a horrible stint of trouble, ya hear?" He smiled at her, a note of awkwardness in his eyes, it seemed something similar had happened in the past.
What she probably didn't know however, was that for the Broker to offer one of his more concrete deals was a rarity.
As he opened to a blank page he began writing that she owed him a small favor, then qualifying the favor as something that could not and would not harm her, her position, or her reputation in any reasonably permanent fashion. He qualified reasonable to mean anything last more than a week's time in regards to reputation or position and anything being more harmful than a verbal lashing or a papercut.
He was rarely so specific.
When he was done he offered her the special pen and slid the book to her side, "You write what you're asking for, 'Lise, and I'll erase it if it sounds fair, and help you add reasonable qualifiers. Don't worry, I'm making efforts to stay reasonable while you're here." He smiled at her again, while his sister gave him an odd look before closing her notebook and getting up to go check on their still unconscious
guest.
Nel eyed the contract warily, it seemed too good to be true. She had been told,
warned, that Bree’s deals were tricky. Great reward for great risk. Or nothing at all. The small exchange she caught between Bree and his sister confirmed it was not his usual way of things.
“I’ll be honest,” Nel smiled,
“I had expected much less certainty. But I know you’re telling the truth. More than that, you’re doing me a great kindness.” Nel might have thought to probe his thoughts then, to see the reaction caused by her pointed words but she felt uncomfortable, in this instance, with the invasion of privacy. It could be exhausting, always knowing what people truly thought (truly thought of
you). Instead, she picked up the pen with conviction and signed the generous contract.
I, Annalise Langley, ask for information on the whereabouts of one Szayeis Aka'aeria and any aid that can be reasonably offered to depose him.Reading it over, Bree--for a brief few seconds--held a serious expression on his face, something shifting about his demeanor ever so slightly. It would be subtle, even to her. He ran a finger over what she'd written, eyes closed, and the brief glow of vis could be seen. "Very well, the deal is sealed," he said seriously before smiling at her--though this time it was oddly forced. His sister returned, glancing at him briefly before walking up to Analise.
"I'll walk you out of the area, it can be...kind of risky to walk these streets alone at times." She smiled at her, a sort of insistence in her tone. Bree smiled at Analise and his sister before, rather curtly speaking, "It is good doing business with you. You've got the card, and I've got your name so we'll be in touch. Expect results within the next day or so." He paused a moment, as if remembering something, "Oh...and I think there is someone else who could likely help you with this." He fished another business card from his pocket and passed it to her.
"Name's Aeris Kasio, CEO of Kasio Korp. Tell her what happened...she'll be sympathetic and I'm sure she'll love to help where I just can't. Ciao," he waved and then got up, exiting the room to enter another part of the bunker. His sister, Anastaesia would help walk her out.
Watching Bree go, Annalise could not help but feel incredulous. How little did she really know about this deal, this man, this city, the conflict within? Every step towards her goal made things less clear.
Does it matter? she thought. She had spent decades in Priscus, hate festering in her heart, waiting for this. She couldn't be distracted now (but that was thing when your Anima ran on
empathy, you couldn't help but be distracted).
"Thank you, Bree." She said sincerely then, turning to his sister, smiled,
"Alright, I'm ready to go." Anastaesia delivered Nel to a safer, more familiar part of the city with relatively few words. She seemed to be musing on something. Nel sighed, more at ease.
Onwards. To Aeris.
