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The Road of a Highwaywoman

PostPosted: Thu Jan 15, 2015 2:54 pm
by highawaywoman
It had been more than a fortnight since she'd worked. Ailova wasn't driven by greed, but she was driven by necessity and vice. Even now her left hand trembled like a pox victim as she furiously curried her mare, Bruiser. The highwaywoman worked up dirt and loose hair, sending tickling dust straight into her nostrils causing - "ACCHHOOO!"

The sneeze caused her mare to spook, half crow-hopping and landing a wide hoof directly to her instep.

Brilliant red flashed in her vision as she let out a desperate gasp, shifting her weight against the horse to push her off her foot in a non-violent manner. It was her own distraction that'd caused her current pain. No reason to blame the beast. If only the same rational logic could be applied to humans. It couldn't though, she reasoned. The more she brushed out the piebald's coat, mane, and tail - the more she relaxed. Everything would be fine, eventually.

Betrayal had seen her cast out of her band. Once a leader, but now she was a scrambling outsider. Banishment had sent her far from her friends, from her safe houses. Here she be in a new land with nary a friend or an idea of where to start. The brigand had made brief acquaintance with several at the main local watering-hole. It was a slow start though, one that rankled worse then being without work and without a band.

"I must work. So must you." A bare hand scratched absently at her mare's poll, the horse dropping her head with a contented sigh. Where Ailova was known to be a clod and somewhat rude - with horses she was nothing but softness. A benefit when she went to work and depended on her four-legged partner as much as any of her two-legged partners.

Pickpocketing had helped line her pockets for board for herself and her two charges. That wouldn't be enough to last for long. Besides, she shirked the idea of pickpocketing for sustenance. She was better then that. Comparably, highway robbery was so much more fun! And profitable. After carefully tending to water and hay, she finally left her two beasts. In her exit from the stables she patted them each in farewell and scolded a smoking stable lad who stood too close to the stable doors.

Smoking stable boys. It was enough to make her drink.

Re: The Road of a Highwaywoman

PostPosted: Fri Jan 16, 2015 2:25 pm
by Rance
As Ailova emerged from the stables, someone else -- with all the intensity of a shot arrow -- barreled toward them.

Gloria Wynsee was a flurry of dull fabric, all whipping skirts in shades of diluted wine and patched over and over again with squares of dull color. A bonnet with its ribbons dipped beeswax caught the cold gusts of winter wind and nearly took flight. A lone hand gripped with desperation at the collar of her winter mantle, holding the moth-gnawed garment closed against the treetrunk of her throat. Breath billowed out of her mouth and nostrils in cloudy puffs. How she'd not seen the boys and their smoking-pipes as she rounded the corner was a matter of distraction: the wind buffeted her dark cheek and wet her eyes, blinding her to--

Her husky shoulder collided with one of the stable-boys, sending him in a flailing lunge backward. Gloria staggered, the burlap satchel hanging from her elbow pouring its contents across the muddy, hay-strewn earth. Slivers of dessicated apple splattered into the soil. She crushed a few inadvertently underfoot.

"Do you mind getting out of my way," she blurted, her Sun-browned features screwing up sourly.

Then, finally, she saw Ailova. The flustered young woman instantly softened her face. All she could offer to the breek-clad lady, amid her embarrassment and frustration, was an exasperated "Men," as though the whole gender had -- in that accidental moment -- shattered its own already-precarious reputation.

Re: The Road of a Highwaywoman

PostPosted: Sun Jan 18, 2015 12:24 pm
by highawaywoman
The oafish curses drew her ear and very soon her full attentions as she turned and took in the full sight of the felled stable-boy and the thick girl from the previous evening. Mossy green eyes met the gaze of the girl and she nodded, tipping the brim of her hat towards the cursing stable lads.

It wasn't often that she'd pause to offer niceties, but something about Gloria made her stop. The younger lass was a survivor. One could always recognize it in the other. Ailova wasn't sure what exactly the girl had been through, but there was something in her eyes that hinted she'd seen enough hell for some time.

"Apparently thanks be in order. Ye did what I had wanted to do when I came out of the stables." Wry words with a small smile as she bent to pick up a few pieces of the apple. She even picked up the crushed ones. "Mind if I give these to my beasts?"

Kind words came easy, though the sentiment was never guaranteed genuine. Now though, Ailova had to be genuine or things would surely get worse - if such horrors could be imagined.

Re: The Road of a Highwaywoman

PostPosted: Sun Jan 18, 2015 4:05 pm
by Rance
Just in picking up apples, Ailova moved with a poise, a comfort, and a confidence she herself had never perfected. The older woman, in her slouch-hat and breeches, cut a figure one could confuse for a man's amid shadows and confusion. That, Gloria surmised, was a foreign quality -- only the Lady Kestrel and a few select other women of higher birth reserved that right. Meanwhile, the seamstress squatted in the slurry of sleet and mud to dig her remaining digits into the hoof-beaten muck. As Ailova aided in the recovery, the hefty girl drew up her chin and watched her. "I didn't intend to," Gloria admitted. She scooped dried apples up into her palm and fearlessly wiped offal onto the folds of her skirts. "They're always here--"

The boys gathered themselves out of the filth and, with slumped shoulders, dispersed like silhouettes about the stable fields to go about their usual business. Burnt pipesmoke lingered in the wintry mist.

"They're always here," the girl clarified, and then added with a tightening of her jaw: "I've asked them before for a nip of their pipe, but they always refuse. Smoking is, apparently, a predilection shared only by the stronger sex." Gloria stood, flicking a comma of oily black hair out of her eyes. As for the apples? "I can give you a few. Surrender too many and -- and my boy will castigate me with those eyes of his. He might be as blind as an old crone, but disturb his expectations too much and you'd be surprised at how quickly he can kill you with a stare."

Her smile was wary. Her teeth were few.

"Ailova, isn't it?" she said. "What beasts are yours? Mine's in there too. My Caliir. Do you want to meet him?"

Re: The Road of a Highwaywoman

PostPosted: Sun Jan 18, 2015 5:23 pm
by highawaywoman
Ailova hesitated a brief moment, glancing at the lane that led to the tavern and her temporary reprieve. She flexed her left hand, as if to ward off the tremors that would soon grab her fingers. That caused her to look to Gloria's own stubs, which prompted her to stay rooted to the spot. Booted feet couldn't move, even if she'd decided to change her mind. Gloria was an oddity. Most young girls of less then noble birth certainly didn't make a habit of speaking out of turn or with such guile. One had to be guarded and reserved when one wasn't graced by a birth made on the right noble side of the blanket.

"Smoking isn't a vice I'm vexed with." The highwaywoman flashed a smile highlighted with gold, "Bad for the teeth they say."

The good apples she surrendered to Gloria, keeping only two crushed pieces for her two horses. She kept the surprise out of her jade eyes when the lass talked of owning a horse. In her experience few kept horses unless well-heeled.

"Ailova, aye. Ye ride? In those?" She gestured to the younger girl's skirts, trying to keep the speculation off her tongue and void from her gaze.

"Bruiser is my mare - the spotted one with a devil in her eye. Gaewinn is me gelding - soft and sweet - but faster then he appears.." Before the younger girl could answer, the blonde brigand brigand began walking back to the stables - as if expecting for Gloria to follow.

Re: The Road of a Highwaywoman

PostPosted: Sun Jan 18, 2015 6:28 pm
by Rance
"I like a pipe occasionally," the young woman chirped, complicit in her damnation of teeth. "You've enough minerals in your gums to fund a small army, Menna Ailova. That it's not your vice simply suggests you haven't given it a fair chance; I imagine you'd be all but impervious to the stains. Nothing a good polish couldn't remedy." When she jested, her accent -- a tangle of long vowels and rolling consonants -- spilled out of her like ale from underneath the rising froth of a poorly-tended mug.

As the conversation tilted toward her skirts, Gloria glanced down toward the sprawling, muddy fabric of her dress.

Ye ride? In those?

"And drink," Gloria promptly retorted. "And run. And bleed. And fight. And wrestle, and work."

Ailova, on the tail-end of the offered names, turned toward the stables. Gloria followed behind her, giving no care to the lifting of her hems from the filth. She squeezed her way into the stables beside her taller compatriot. Inside, not even the bitter scourge of winter could disperse the foul truth of the livery: the acrid reek of shit peppered the air, and the hay that crunched underfoot glinted like broken glass with crystals of sand, salt, and urea. Horses stirred restlessly in their stalls, their gaping nostrils and listless eyes peering at the two dissimilar figures that now stood among them. This close, Gloria Wynsee was a pungent force of woodsmoke and old sweat. Her clothes wore her poverty -- her simplicity, as she might better say it -- between each thread, each stitch, each fold.

"Gaewinn," she repeated, voice softened as though she might shatter the glass of silence and secrecy by speaking any louder. "I'll meet him. I'll meet him, but not your Bruiser. He sounds fierce. He sounds like yours, and yours alone -- with respect, of course."

And for a girl who rode even in ankle-length cloth, for a girl standing now amid a colony of steeds, her last utterance was an alien thing altogether:

"I don't much care for horses. They frighten me."

Re: The Road of a Highwaywoman

PostPosted: Mon Jan 19, 2015 7:38 am
by highawaywoman
The highwaywoman grinned at the younger girl's estimation of both her teeth and vices. While walking back into the stables she couldn't help but be reminded of little Jaysan. He'd been a peasant boy who possessed a talent for pickpocketing and cat-burglary. She'd recruited him - taught him to ride and found him to be invaluable at picking the lock boxes of the toll roads they traveled. Jaysan had been a bit of a tag-a-long, constantly underfoot, and always talking.

Now he was dead. Executed for highway robbery. Eons ago. More then a decade had passed since that particular comrade had swung from the gibbet.

"How the devil would that be possible?" It was Gloria's insistence that she could effectively complete all these tasks while gowned in petticoats that truly bewildered the brigand. "That can't be either comfortable or expedient, Gloria."

Ailova had been raised with horses. Her father, a drunkard who was better communicating with his fists over words - gave her an affinity for horseflesh. Years of meticulously watching them, caring for them, and simply being around them gave her a comfort within the livery stables. Gloria? Gloria looked like she was inside a privvy on a summer's afternoon. Discomfort colored the girl's words as she asked after Ailova's horses.

"Bruiser is a lassie. Aye, she's not much for other riders on her back. Gaewinn is all that one could ask for in a hack." The thief's head canted to the black and white tobiano mare that was currently shaking her head like a bedlamite. Bruiser in return bared her teeth at the two women, huffing indignantly before tearing at her hay in complete equine contentment.

"Now Gaewinn has the most--" Her words were immediately frozen in the air with Gloria's startling announcement. Not care for horses?! Now Ailova shook her covered head, much resembling the actions of her mare.

"Frighten, aye. Well, mayhap no one has taught ye not to be afraid of them?"

Re: The Road of a Highwaywoman

PostPosted: Mon Jan 19, 2015 11:13 am
by Rance
"Comfortable or expedient? No, but you can still break a young man's nose in a dress."

Bruiser peered out at them, shook her long head, whipped her mane like a queen. Gloria kept distance enough from those gaping nostrils and those almost prehensile lips as they decidedly picked through the hay. She preferred giving Ailova her attention, watching the other woman in the musty darkness of the stables. It was clear this was a place of comfort and consolation for the trouser-clad woman, a tiny, controlled nation all its own where she could escape into memories and expertise. A place where women in pants were perfectly welcome. "Or," the seamstress ventured, scraping her heel through the rancid straw underneath her, drawing aimless patterns between the husks, "I was only ever taught to hate them.

"Never had horses where I was born," she explained. "You only ever saw their bones left behind in the dunes from when foolish foreigners thought the beasts could survive the Glass Sands. Idiot armies and their steeds perished by the thousands in the heat. They became the subjects of stories, vehicles of myth about -- about the sinful and the unrighteous. Men and women who sought to change or -- or destroy Jernoah always rode horses, always died on horses. I know they're not evil." She jerked her round chin toward the distracted Bruiser. "Sometimes I just forget."

She glanced down to the rubbery apple-slivers clutched in her palm. Eyebrows shot up toward Ailova.

"Your Gaewinn," Gloria said. "Can -- can we give him a treat?"

Re: The Road of a Highwaywoman

PostPosted: Tue Jan 20, 2015 11:18 am
by highawaywoman
"Noses are easy enough to break - skirts or no. But think of all the other things ye could accomplish without the tent slowing ye down."

It was hard to keep the dumbfounded expression off her face as the younger girl spoke of her homeland. What a terrible hot hole! While Ailova had done plenty of traveling in her lifetime, no road had ever led to such a place of desolation. No horses? She couldn't fathom that existence.

"Well, lucky for ye that yer not in that hellish spot. Makes me parched just to think of such a place." The thirst was getting worse, her left hand obviously trembled as she pointed two stalls down from Bruiser.

"That's Gaewinn, come, ye can give it to him yerself. He's a gentle sod." The highwaywoman led Gloria to where a large grey gelding stood quietly dozing. He was the polar opposite of her other horse, who even now was rapping an angry hoof against her stall door. Gaewinn the Grey was a draft horse cross of some sort. He sported one blue eye and one brown, which blinked awake as the two women stepped in front of him. The gentle giant's head was double the size of Bruiser's, but his laid-back personality eased the shock of his size.

"Might ye know of some local gaming hells?" The question came from afar, but Ailova figured this one wouldn't judge or raise eyebrows at such a query.

"Make sure to hold yer hand flat! His mouth be so large that he can accidentally take more than the apple if yer remaining digits be in the way." The bandit jumped from one topic to another, reaching over to grasp Gloria's hand in case the younger girl thought to show fear.

Re: The Road of a Highwaywoman

PostPosted: Thu Jan 22, 2015 6:46 am
by Rance
The gentle, massive creature was a sight to behold, a living contradiction: Gaewinn could have kicked a divot in a man's chest, crushed his bones to powder if he so desired. She held her breath, as if merely daring to inhale and exhale might spell out danger for her. She held her hand flat as Ailova instructed, though her thick fingertips were as stiff as wood. Bravery dissolved with Ailova's final warning -- His mouth be so large that he can accidentally take more than the apple if yer remaining digits be in the way -- and the only thing that kept her from retracting her hand was the woman's encouraging, steadying touch.

"I am holding it flat; I am. I want to keep my fingers," Gloria said, managing to sound like a petulant child. With her courage bolstered by the older woman's encouragement, the girl couldn't help but think--

Is she trembling too?

Tremors danced in the woman's muscles. Symptomatic, Gloria presumed, because Ailova's voice didn't quaver. No, not fear. It was something else...

Like Mother and her smokeroot.

With the nip of apple extended, she tried to forget her hand was hers at all; she observed Gaewinn warily, but gave a cluck-cluck of her tongue like she would with Caliir. Meanwhile: "Gaming? Like -- like cards and coins, or Stones and Bones? The Floating Dragon in town might suit you, but it caters to a more vicious crowd than the Broken Dagger. You might win a horse. Conversely, you might become too well-acquainted with other people's knives. " Her voice softened, and the quieter she became, the more her accent faded. "But if you ask my advice, I believe that -- that some vices are best nurtured in safer environments."

Re: The Road of a Highwaywoman

PostPosted: Thu Jan 22, 2015 7:11 am
by highawaywoman
The gentle grey nibbled the pieces of apple gently, his fuzzed lips nudging the palm gently when finished. Unlike Bruiser, he cherished his idleness. It wasn't often they were stabled for such a long succession of days. Personally, he was in horsey heaven. His massive head dropped low over the stall door, mismatched eyes fixing onto Gloria with a most expectant stare.

"He expects to be petted now. He's really a large dog." The highwaywoman had already given into Gaewinn, rubbing his neck with a rough sort of affection. "Silly old bugger."

Ailova stepped back to let the two get better acquainted, listening intently to the younger girl. The accent made some of her words hard to decipher, so it was paramount she pay attention. Gaming hells were exactly the place she needed to find and haunt. A place where a man [i]or woman[i] could squander a fortune and then look for a quick way to replenish that lost fortune.

"Aye, well, rough sorts don't bother me. 'Tis the gaming I'm more concerned with." It was a lie, but she blandly smiled to hide her chagrin. "They say the vicious play the best. And with higher stakes - mayhap we can move out of the stables, hmm? The last part was spoken to her horse, whom she tickled beneath the chin.

Re: The Road of a Highwaywoman

PostPosted: Thu Jan 22, 2015 8:03 am
by Rance
"He's not a dog," Gloria proclaimed playfully as the tongue and lips eagerly pecked the dried apple from her fingers. A burst of new excitement accompanied the girl's broken-toothed smile. Victory was still having possession of one's fingers. "He's not a bugger. The more you keep making unsubstantiated claims about this absolute gentleman, the more I might have to win him off your hands. Isn't that right," Gloria said, patting her palm across the lazy beast's bending neck. With every word, it become clearer that she was speaking to the horse -- rather, fawning over him, empowered by the ease of the interaction. "Isn't that right, boy? Isn't that right, good boy."

When the slivers of apple were finally gone, she used her skirts to dry the foam from her fingertips. "If it's games you want, then the Floating Dragon might be a fine choice. It's lays claim to all sorts of moral juveniles. And if you're up to a ride," she added, "Murrukh says there's a settlement of ragged sorts up near Golben, though -- though I can't imagine they care much for people like you or me."

She disengaged from Gaewinn and hiked her muddy hems, jerking her chin toward the back of the stables. "Let me introduce you to mine," she said. "He's not nearly so dashing, but he's something."

The furthest stall was her goal, a dark nook tucked away in the corner of the livery. On her way, a question:

"Why games," she asked. "Why not work with all you know of horses, Menna Ailova?"

Re: The Road of a Highwaywoman

PostPosted: Thu Jan 22, 2015 9:10 am
by highawaywoman
The brigand grinned at Gloria's admonishment, watching the exchange between the odd girl and Gaewinn. The more that Gloria petted and cooed to the gelding, the more he melted under her touch. Ailova tipped the brim of her slouch hat to Gloria, letting the lass lead the way to her own mount.

"Well, gaming isn't necessarily my entire income, just a pleasant way to spend some of it." Lies, lies, and more lies. Ailova was a creature made up of vice, but gambling didn't control her the way some of her other vices did.

"Besides, not many are hiring horse-handlers in this weather. That's more of a spring job, aye? Needs to find something to occupy me time. Elsewise, I'd have to move on. I'm not sure if I'm ready to do that yet." She came to stop behind Gloria, briefly stumbling in the dimly lit stables. It wasn't the dark that had made her trip - it was the lack of drink. Hells, she was thirsty!!

Fustian. The more she talked, the more chance she'd let something slip. Without meaning too, she'd fallen into an easy chit-chat with Gloria.

"And ye? Ye don't gamble or make rash decisions ye later regret?"

Re: The Road of a Highwaywoman

PostPosted: Thu Jan 22, 2015 9:41 am
by Rance
"Steady, now. Steady, else you'll get dirt on your pants."

Her free hand lunged out to try to catch Ailova's shoulder, to keep her from tipping all the way forward. Gloria was a rock, a hearty lump of a girl who could have been a barrel or a pillar if she'd not been given a heartbeat and a voice. Searching eyes leered into the other woman's face, but her smile was a dull distraction, a simple thing on a simple visage.

"Alright?" she asked, eyebrows lancing high, almost piercing through the lip of her bonnet. But the question was only that -- a question, a conversational inquiry, nothing more. One of her remaining fingers hooked around the rim of Ailova's sleeve, turned her, and motioned into the unlit stall. "Here, look here, Ailova; this is my boy." Gloria clicked her tongue against cork-colored teeth. "Caliir. Caliir, it's Gloria. Do you hear?"

A silhouette smaller than a horse but nearly as wide as a carriage was squeezed into the stall. A hot, chuffing breath blew out from two damp nostrils, and a pair of eyes like cloudy glass opened toward the sound of Gloria's voice. They flicked left, right, peering not for light, but for noise and disturbance. The face was monumentally flat. The creature resembled a bison or a bull with a great, bushy coat of clumpy fur. A crisscrossed map of old, pink scars had been chewed into its hide. Its lips peeled back, revealing a row of toothless gums -- or rather, black gums that bore only one tooth that stuck up like a lonely tombstone from the empty divots.

Gloria stuffed a few hunks of muddy apple into her mouth, then thrust the remainder out to Ailova. "Chew," she said, the word wheezing out from her nose. "Chew it up as -- as fine as you can."

When Gloria had done so, she spit the wet lump of rubbery apple into her palm. A dollop of saliva gleamed on her lip.

"Gamble, no," she told her new friend. "But things I regret?"

Her toe dug into the floor.

"I regret more than I breathe, more than I eat or shit, more than I speak. I make rash decisions like that every day; I can't stop making them."

She swallowed.

"What about you?"

Re: The Road of a Highwaywoman

PostPosted: Thu Jan 22, 2015 3:03 pm
by highawaywoman
"I'm fine!" The startled exclamation came out harsher then she meant, but she was surprised at both her stumble and the girl's strong grip. The lass was as sturdy as one of the heavy posts that held up the frame of the livery! "I mean, thank ye. Sorry, I wasn't paying--" Her words died out as she caught sight of what Gloria had dubbed Caliir.

What a ghastly beast! Ailova literally bit her tongue to keep the thought from being vocalized. To the horsewoman's shrewd eye, this was a beast that should've put down and turned into fertilizer many winters ago. The legs looked bowed, tendons shot, and she'd wager he was cow-hocked.

"He's certainly seen his better days more then a decade ago." The words were plainly spoken; Ailova may be a liar and thief - but horses pulled the truth from her better then a bottle of liquor!

The highwaywoman looked down at the muddy chunk of apple, hiding the incredulous look from her eyes as Gloria began mashing the apple for her nag. Aye, the poor beast was a nag. However, a niggling part of sympathy for the battered old beast urged her to follow suit with Gloria. Ailova was used to offending everyone equally; but without a band, without security - she had to start anew. That meant changing a few small things. Gloria had shown her nothing but kindness - reserving any particular judgement she had to herself.

"Ye don't ride him, surely?" Her work-roughened hand held out the masticated bit of apple, not cringing as the gums helped deliver the treat to the withered old horse's stomach.

As the swarthy skinned girl answered her last question very seriously, Ailova did almost cringe. She hadn't meant to hurt, but there was hurt in Gloria's pained tones. Just by wearing skirts alone, the poor thing had set herself up for trying times. Compound that with missing digits and an unpleasing set of looks? Well, if one was a lady in a skirt - that was a rough road to ride.

"Of course. Ye don't get to be my age without regretting more then half of yer life." Another toothsome grin, and she pushed up the brim of her hat to get a better gander at Gloria. "The ones I regret the most are the decisions that caused harm or even death to those I respected."

"The rest? Well, time's not suitably spent on regret. It'll rot your brain faster then yer remaining teeth!" She knew her next question shouldn't be asked, but the words were out before she could leash them in. "Yer child? Does the babe stay with you?" Obviously, there wasn't a doting husband about. But then, in Ailova's jaded experience such things didn't exist - save in children's nursery tales.