Perfectly Innocent and Not a Political Plotting RP

RP Date: 2026-10-07

Location: The Market Square

Participants: Lucian, Marley, Marw

Summary

Three people compare notes on a village that may be running out of more than just matches.
Somewhere between politics, plans and nail polish, an understanding begins to form.

This archive was published after approval by all listed participants.

Roleplay

Marley was walking around what used to be a busy market square at one point in time. Not so much these days but by the way she was eyeing the old broken carts, old shop windows, and the fountain in the center, it was easy to deduce by anyone who actually knew the woman that she was picturing the possibilities of it being so once again. It was the fountain she eventually stopped at, pushing her black, embroidered cloak back to light a cigarette she had fished from a small, monogrammed silver case that was tucked into a pocket in her fitted leather trousers. The case was as precious as the cargo it carried; one of the few relics that made the journey to this cursed place at her side. She lights the cigarette and tosses the match into the fountain, watching it sizzle amongst a damp clump of leaves and vines. A sneer of disgust is on her lips as she exhales the plume of smoke. Meanwhile, there are voices in the distance; others were also in the area and not far away by the sounds of it. The area was damp, cool, and the clouds overhead suggested some weather incoming soon.

Marw might just have been one of those distant voices a few minutes ago. However if she had, the conversation had been lacking as she soon left it to go to the market square. Coat of charcoal wool wrapped around her, collar up and boots hitting the cobbles with purpose. Her pace slowed almost imperceptibly when she noticed the woman by the fountain. Not because she recognised her, quite the opposite. She comes to a halt for a moment, to watch and assess the other before steps resume, to approach her and look at the now sodden match. An brow arching as she glances to the redhead. "How long do you think it will take for matches to become the new currency?" After all, with no new ones coming in and them being used for every fire, light of lantern, cigarette and start if a home cooked meal, surely they were quickly dwindling in numbers. However the question could be left as rhetorical, as a turn on her heels to look at the other, no hiding of her scrutiny. The woman did not look familiar but neither did she had the same air of desperation that new lake comers had. That was puzzling. "How long have you been here for?"

Marley doesn't even bother to look up from her glare at the corpse of the match that laid dead as her past hopes and dreams. She merely gave an apathetic sigh and nevertheless responded to the intended rhetorical question, "If they are like anything else of necessity in this place, immediately. And being such a necessity as fire is, I would say steep currency at that." Eventually, she lifted her focus to the woman in her smart tailored coat that was looking at her with unabashed scrutiny. The redhead almost smiled, but not yet. She was not in shambles, as most were. Her clothes were clean, fitted, and her hair was styled and smoothed. Lacking in products perhaps, but it was brushed and groomed. There was even a lingering scent of perfume. Lady Luck had smiled upon this one?or she made her own luck, more factually. A keen emerald gaze returned the look-over of her newest companion, from the boots at her feet to the coat protecting her from the cool mist and impending elements, all the way back to those calculating eyes that stared back at her. "Long enough that I know my way around for the most part. Short enough that I still want to go home and haven't resigned my fate to this shit hole." Marw could have been one of the voices in the distance, but she was certainly not all of them as suddenly, a woman's scream echoed out, distant and blood curdling, along with a man's shout of some kind of garbled anger. It was impossible to hear what the fighting was over. Marley didn't seem bothered either way, as she didn't jump nor even cast a curious look in the direction it came from. She simply took another pull from her cigarette. "You? You're not crying hysterically and you're not stopping wet from that fucking lake. You were at the meeting too."

Marw winced on hearing the scream as if it was a faux pas of manners and an inconvenience to her day. But she did not look towards the scream either. Her eyes remained on Marley for a second longer than was entirely polite, and the lack of reaction from the other was interesting. Once that judgement was made, she inclined her head towards the direction of the shouting. "Charming." she delivers flatly. She was not going to investigate nor assist either party. Attention returned to Marley. "You seem observant." The mention of the meeting earned the smallest narrowing of her eyes. "I was." Her hands slipped into the pockets of her coat as she took one step closer to the fountain, positioning herself beside it rather than directly opposite Marley. "No, I have not reached the hysterical stage. It seems inefficient and a waste of effort." Her gaze drifted over the neglected square again, lingering on one of the empty shopfronts. Then a little deliberate push, to start to test the other woman "I am personally of the mindset that waiting for someone else to improve matters is likely to be disappointing. There is something about the thought of letting someone else have control of my life that I do not relish." She does not skirt around the question she asks next "What are your thoughts on the attempt to open the portal?"

Marley met and held Marw's stare just until the other woman looked away, and that was taken as her cue that she could also look at other things. For now, it was the fountain again, as she continued to smoke her cigarette. The cacophony in the distance seemed to die down?probably with an emphasis on the -die- part. One less to feed. Speaking of, a question had been posted to her and remembering that drew her out of the dark thoughts she was dipping toes into. "Inefficient," she actually cracks a smile at that. "I like that. That's a good way of puttin' it. It's also a good answer to what usually happens if someone else is put in charge of your life. It's inefficient." She stresses the word with emphasis. "And as I have no reason to hide my honest thoughts here, I think all avenues for returning?or simply leaving this village, should be explored." Here, her gaze levels back on Marw with considerable weight. "All avenues. Because if they aren't, and we are truly stuck, the next step will become purging. There's only a finite amount of resources at the moment. I know, I've been tallying and sourcing here and there and the results so far ain't great." She takes the last pull of her cigarette, and ashes it along the cracked stone edge of the fountain. The butt isn't thrown however, it's placed right back in that silver case. Waste not. And there was no telling what addict she might cross that would want just the smell of the burnt tobacco. The case is slipped back into her pocket for safe keeping. "Who are you." It was a question, but also not. "Not that I expect an answer without something in turn. I'm Marley."

Marw watched her carefully, even down to the return of the cigarette butt to its silver case. The act itself was not especially interesting. The reasoning behind it was. Was this woman useful? Potentially dangerous? Both, perhaps. The possibilities were not mutually exclusive. At the word purging, there was no visible recoil from Marw. Most people preferred to dress ugly thoughts in softer language before presenting them to company. Marley had dispensed with the wrapping altogether. That could unsettle some. Marw took mental note, she did not yet reach for the notebook in her pocket. Not yet. "Marw Foxx." Her name was offered simply, without hand or title. "Do you remember much of where you came from? Who you were before here?" Before Marley could answer, movement caught at the edge of Marw's vision. A rat darted from beneath one of the abandoned carts, its slick little body skittering across the wet cobbles before disappearing through the ajar door of an empty shop. Marw watched it vanish. "Apparently not all of our resources are depleted." Still, if she had wished to discuss rats, she might have been better served heading towards the lake. Her attention returned to Marley. The fact that the woman had already begun taking stock of what remained here interested her considerably more. It suggested initiative. "And I think you have just made yourself rather more interesting than you were five minutes ago, Marley." There was no smile to soften the words, though neither were they intended as a threat. "People here talk a great deal about what they hope will happen. They hope the portal opens. They hope someone finds a way out. They hope someone else fixes whatever problem presents itself next." She pauses briefly. "But most of them are still waiting for someone else to act." Her gaze remained steady on Marley now. "We cannot afford to wait until hope runs out before deciding what comes after it." By this point, it was already apparent that Marley did not require politeness to cushion difficult subjects. So Mare dispensed with that, not that she often used it. "What is your plan, then, Marley?"

Lucian is preceded by a slow, mournful guitar tune. The timing isn't quite perfect, but the player quiets his part just before the echo overtakes him and answers, then joins back in as it fades. There's only a few moments of dissonant overlap. The song changes subtly with each new refrain, giving the impression of someone rangefinding, or finding the right temperature in the shower. He turns a corner and smiles at Marw and her new friend, ambling closer while giving them plenty of time to conclude their own private words before he's in earshot. It isn't until he's across the fountain that he gives his guitar a rest, and isn't until he's a few steps closer that he smiles out his greeting, "Doña Raposa. We have to stop meeting like this, or you will suss out all my secrets and tire of me." A glance then to Marley, his eyes lingering on her dagger for just a moment. A small tension leaves his shoulders then, and a warmer light in his eyes. How do you even talk to a woman who's not prepared to kill someone? He had never picked up the knack. He extends one hand into some elaborate half-bow he's just invented in the moment, raising an eyebrow toward Marley. "Lucian Corvo, at your service. Do people shake hands where you're from, or are you another Merlincita? I am struggling with the...como se dice... disparate social mores."

Marley will admit defeat when she's properly defeated, and the rat- that was defeat in brown fur and whiskers. Her calm demeanour broke as the creature skittered through and she lost the battle with a shiver and grimace. "Nasty fuckers," she practically spit in disgust. After composing herself again, she gave Marw a dip of her chin in acknowledgement of the full name. Marw wouldn't be reviewing a last name in turn, though. She simply turns her gaze to her fingernails; fingernails in desperate need of a manicure?and asap. She sighs at them, as if they chose their current state all by themselves with the chipped red polish and random scratches along her hands. "Hope gets you nowhere. What moves you forward is action, and that's what my plan is. Action. I've learned a few things about a few people, I've gathered a few resources, I've gathered a few useful trinkets here and there. My plan is to plan. Because what happens if this fails? What happens if we're all just fucking stuck here, looking at each other's faces for the next fifty years until we start dying off." Again, not a question. "We're going to get nowhere quick with chaos. As for your other question, oddly enough it seems, I remember everything. Every. Thing." She doesn't get to elaborate though as the forlorn sounds of guitar strings breaks up the conversation, and Lucian makes his appearance. Marley is instantly sizing him up, eyeing for weapons both visible and the hint of ones not visible to the naked eye. He, unlike Marw, is given quite the charming smile, fake as it may be. "Marley," she introduces, not offering her hand as she might under normal circumstances. "They do shake, but due to the current situation, you'll forgive me for keeping my hands to myself." The briefest of pauses. "For now."

Marw listened carefully as the other spoke, each word subjected to a full mental autopsy. Marley gave away enough to be interesting, but not enough to be transparent. Whether Lucian's arrival was responsible for that restraint or whether the woman simply kept her cards close to her chest by nature remained to be known. Then when Marley announced that her plan was to plan, something perilously close to a laugh almost escaped Marw before she could stop it. She caught the sound halfway, disguising it beneath a small cough and the lift of one hand towards her mouth. A second later, once steeled she says "I would be interested in hearing more of your plan at some point, Marley." Composure returned, bar a small suggestion of amusement lingering around her eyes. "It would be interesting to discover whether any of our thoughts align." As the guitar is heard, the Foxx couldnt help but wonder if the man was unable to appear without a soundtrack. When he rounded the fountain, she inclined her head. "Mr Corvo." His concer on running out of secrets prompted a dismissive shake of hers, however she still treated his predicament with all the seriousness it deserved. "If you are genuinely at risk of running out of secrets, I suggest you simply acquire some more. I would hate for you to become uninteresting." Her attention returned to Marley, though only for a moment, before she looked back towards Lucian. A pointed glance passed between them, followed by the smallest rise of one shoulder. She suspected Lucian might understand. If he did not, he could wait until next week to learn.

Lucian squeezes his own hand into a fist and holds it up? He's really making this up as he goes, but that seems like how he should bow. He smiles as he stands back up and winks to Marley, "Ahhh, la Diabla. My mother, she warned me about women with red hair." Lucian wouldn't consider himself armed, since he has only squirreled away a knife in his boot, one at his back, and the two up his sleeves that make his shirt lie a bit funny at times. But then, that's why you have sleeves with ruffles. All of his real instruments are back in the guitar case strapped to his back, nonfunctional. His eyes follow Marw's, and then get stuck on her shoulder. Is this a secret message? Or is she merely trying to seduce him? He glances from Marw to Marley, then back to Marw, eyes lighting up as he makes the connection. "Ahhh, you wonder if Marley would serve as the chair of the town, giving you access to the ear of the one who holds the levers of power without the target it paints on your back, because your plan of using the Conquistador fell through when you discovered he was only a pup and as yet unblooded?"

Marley made mental notes of everything she could see, though she may have missed the shrug that Marw attempted to pass to Lucian on the downlow. What she could see were small, hard looking outlines within Lucian's frilly shirt, so she assumed, weapons of some sort. The ones in his flowy sleeves and along his back, those were his secrets to keep. He was armed. In fact, it was wise to assume everyone was. When she turned her attention to the dark haired woman, it was with a genuine albeit small smile, one that almost could be viewed conspiratorial in nature. That view would be correct. "I'd appreciate the company," she replies truthfully. "And I'd like to hear where you stand, as well. I appreciate that you aren't crying like a hysterical woman at all of this." Unlike <i>some</i> people. When Lucian winks, her smile kicks up a notch. That was something she was used to, that was something she appreciated. "Your mother sounds like a smart woman, but I wonder what her view would be on dyed hair." Then, he was staring at Marw, and she eased a booted step back to put them both in better view, her fingers idly toying with a loose thread along her cloak. Those movements ceased however when Lucian let it all flow out, and unlike Marw and her control, Marley erupted in laughter. She didn't bother even trying to disguise it nor temper it back.

Marw went very still. Not dramatically, no visible start, no sharp gesture, no flare of temper. She simply became motionless, and then her eyes snapped to Lucian. For several seconds, she said nothing. "Remarkable." The annoyance was obvious, but cold rather than heated. "Well. At least I have learned that subtlety is not among your talents." A pause and a deep inhale. "For the record, Mr Corvo, if I were attempting to place someone beside the levers of power, I would generally prefer not to announce it to the prospective candidate before I had established whether they were suitable." Her gaze held his. "But you know that, don't you?" Then she looked to Marley. Fine! Her cards might no longer be held close to her chest, but that did not prevent them from being the strongest hand at the table. There was no fluster beneath the irritation. If anything, Lucian had merely forced Marw to abandon subtlety earlier than she would have preferred. She shifted her weight against the fountain and regarded Marley now without any pretence that her scrutiny was casual. "Well." There was a faint drop of resignation in the tone. "It appears Mr Corvo has spared us both the inconvenience of several more conversations." There was almost a smile. "I am interested in who intends to put themselves forward for the chair. No, I do not intend to run. However, we are presently in a position where no one has volunteered. What happens then?" She let the question remain between them for a moment before continuing. "We have Morgane, who called the meeting. Morgane, who produced the journal. Morgane, who called for the vote. Morgane, who suggested the chair. Morgane, who suggested someone collate the proposed methods." Marw's brow lifted as she looked towards Lucian. "So if no suitable candidate steps forward, does Morgane eventually volunteer herself?" There was no accusation in the question. Perhaps she would be suitable for it. "She has already demonstrated that she is influential, and I stand by my vote. I would prefer a distribution of power." And if the person occupying that chair position happened to share Marw's conclusions, or possessed the good sense to listen when she offered advice, Ms Foxx could hardly be blamed for finding the arrangement suitable. Then, almost as an afterthought, her eyes slid back towards Lucian. "Do that again, and you will suddenly become uninteresting."

Lucian laughs a relaxed and satisfied laugh, shaking his head, "But we are among friends, no?" He gestures with the palm of his hand and two extended fingers first to Marw, "Doña Raposa, you are sly and cunning, and find the hidden paths." He moves his hand toward Marley, "La Diabla I do not know well, but she carries a sharp tooth and I would not test her to use it." He smiles graciously and places his hand on his own chest, "And I am loud and brash, incessant in my cawing." He elaborates to Marley, "En realidad, my mother taught me no such thing. I was raised by the priests, who called me Corvo because I am always crowing." He adds his own item to Marw's litany, "Morgane, the only one who has been suggested by name as a sacrifice, so far," before looking back to Marw with a smaller, more genuine bittersweet smile. "Truly, Ms. Foxx, that is not my wish. But also I think you earned that barb by trying to put Escuderito, the little armored boy, into play. Innocence will not last long, here of all places, I do not think we need to help it out the door." Idly, almost without thinking, he fishes a worn medallion featuring a woman in blue robes from the thin chain around his neck, rubbing it between his thumb and forefinger. He looks to Marley, "I don't know much about Morgane yet. I intend to meet with her, but I too think she has had enough influence already. I don't care for her, but perhaps that is because she bore the bad news, and can speak French."

Marley lifts the back of her knuckle to gently blot at just underneath her eye, carefully fixing any stray kohl that may have smeared from her boisterous laughing. "Oh, oh I needed that. I <i>like</i> you, Corvo." And to Marw, her grin remained in place despite the slight harsh hint to her words. "You, I'm still deciding on. But that's usually a good indication that I will eventually like someone. The man is right, you are sly. Foxx, indeed." The natural flow of the conversation continues, and with it, her smile and amusement fades, especially when she hears the other woman giving her own thoughts voice. She didn't trust this Morgane, either. "Morgane," she adds in. "That has also risen from the Lake, and immediately took it upon herself to try and herd us like sheep. And you saw what happened." She waved a hand, indicatively of the invisible crowd that was once at the village square. "We gathered. It was a perfect example of how a loud, confident voice can maneuver the masses. And that's something to think about." She looks to Lucian, nodding. "You should meet her. I would like to as well, but I think it in the best interest if it were done separately. My thinking on that is that afterwards, we could always meet and compare stories. See if we were fed different information. That would give us a small insight to where she is leaning; be it to herself, the group, or something else. At the end of the day, I think we're all on the same page that we want to go home. But if that isn't an option, then this place will need some kind of leadership." Again, that hand waves. "Or we may find ourselves herded to our demise. And since we are here and being forthright, Mr Corvo, I no longer have to mail you my reply. I stand in favor of the sacrifice, and I believe it should be someone that serves little to no purpose." There was no hesitation in the words she spoke, no conviction. Just point blank. To Marw, she nods. "And for what it's worth, I agree with your thoughts about the distribution of power. We need leadership with thought, not emotion."

Marw regarded Lucian for a long moment at his declaration that they were among friends. "You think everyone is your friend Mr Corvo." At least he had enough self-awareness to recognise that he was cawing. The mention of Gallard brought a narrowing of her eyes. "You misunderstand me on that one. I was not attempting to put Gallard into play. I was establishing whether he was a piece worth placing on the board at all." She let that distinction settle. However Marley had not been privy to that meeting, so she gets the summary "In brief, no." Her reasoning though was given to them both "I wanted to know whether he thinks independently. Whether people might trust him. Whether he can be persuaded without being easily led. Whether he possesses enough spine to disagree with someone when disagreement carries a cost." A slight lift of one shoulder. "And we were able to conclude the man does not perform well under pressure." Yet there was still one thing she did not know the answer for "Why was he so frightened of you Mr Corvo?" His addition concerning Morgane drew a thoughtful silence, distracting enough that he could avoid that question as she pondered over it. "By who? The watchtower man or the dandelion wine girl?" They had both been quite vocal. Interesting. With the judgement on herself bestowed, she quite openly admits "I do not need you to like me." She is not offended nor playing coy, like and respect are two vastly different things. However there they were, different votes but somehow the same concern. Step one complete. The suggestion that Marley and Lucian meet Morgane separately caused Marw's brow to rise, though not in disagreement. "Separately, yes. But not simultaneously." She stepped away from the fountain, eyes dipping to the cobbles in front of her and absentmindedly dipping a toe into the puddle within it to disturb the water as she thinks. "If you both intend to speak with her, one of you should go first. Afterwards, the two of you should compare what was said and how it was said, before the other approaches her." Chin lifts, thoughts complete. "The second person should not use the same approach as the first. Different questions. Different assumptions. Different temperament, if possible. If Morgane is perfectly forthcoming during the first conversation, excellent. We have lost nothing. But if she is evasive or defensive or whatever?" a hand slides out of her pocket to motion in the air "Then the second person knows precisely where to apply pressure. You find the holes in the first conversation, and you know where to go on the second." Marley's suggestion on the sacrifice was interesting but she says nothing on it, curious how the musician would receive it. She moves swiftly on, though. "I want leadership that can survive disagreement." Because that, perhaps more than anything else, was the distinction Marw cared about.

Lucian smiles at Marley's praise of him and crosses one foot in front of the other, guitar-holding arm extended for a brief curtsey. He pats the guitar as it comes back to his chest, dwelling in the comfortable, sonorous thump for a moment. He dips his head toward Marw in acknowledgement and half-hearted apology for misunderstanding the Gallard situation. His eyes flick from Marley to Marw as the former states her preferred vote, but doesn't <i>exactly</i> betray anyone's confidence except to say, "Great minds...", and taps the body of his guitar a few more times with his thumb, a light little <i>pum pum pum</i> accentuating his thinking. He bursts back into speech with the non sequitur, "Ladies, where you come from, do they play the little game with the seashells and the ball, on the streets? The one where a foolish person will give over money and wrongly guess which shell the ball is under. A wiser person will know enough not to play. But the wiser still person, the person who is composed and reflective enough to know that they are truly quick and clever, sometimes tries to outwit the street performer. To watch his clever motions, to find the real truth." He clicks his tongue quietly, shaking his head. "They call those clever people ballena. Whales. Clever enough to beach themselves. Because the ball is never under the shells." He gestures in a vague way through several buildings toward the village square and the lake beyond. "If we do not trust her, why trust even a portion of what she said? Why entertain the notion of a sacrifice?" He sighs and shakes his head. "I don't know. I too emerged from the lake, we all did. And I know we all started making our own little plans. She said hers first and loudest, but I don't know that she is any different from us." That moment stills him briefly, and he looks into the eyes of his new friends. What if Morgane is just the same as them? Is that someone they want in charge? Lucian knows his answer. "I have already sent her a love letter, written on the back of one of the notes calling to sacrifice her. I will let you know how the meeting goes, Marley." He smiles a thin smile now, but a real one. He also belatedly raises an eyebrow to Marw, "Do you think we don't like you? I like you very much, Doña Raposa. You are one of the only people here I can trust, although perhaps Marley will be on that list soon as well. I also trust you would throw me to the sharks if it meant you could swim further, but what is dinner without spice, eh?"

Marley nods in agreement with Marw's suggestion of the separate meetings with Morgane. "I wouldn't suggest they be back to back, either. It's too obvious." The talk of the other people went not entirely ignored, you never ignore names and information when you were in the information business, but there were some distractions in the form of more chaotic shouting coming from the same direction as earlier. Seems something over there was found, and whomever found whatever they did, they weren't happy. Marley watched the direction for a time, though nothing physically came from there, nothing more than sounds and shouts. As Lucian spoke, she nodded again, "The shell game." Her canine came into view as a half cocked grin appear, "It was big on the beaches especially. But it's not that we don't trust her, we just need to know where she stands is all?" And whether she will be influenced. "We're going along with it because sheep." She shrugs, "And until another shepherd is chosen, I suspect we will continue. I look forward to hearing what you find out, Corvo. Foxx, this has been very enlightening. I propose we meet up again soon. I'm sure I'll have more questions and I'd like to get to know you both more. For now though, the sun is setting. And those shouts are getting closer. I can't be bothered to know what they're about tonight." She straightens her cloak and gives her hair a careful fluff over her shoulders as she turns to leave. "For the record, the chair person isn't a bad position to have. But that person would need others to be watching over their shoulders at all times. Tit for tat sorta thing."

Marw considered Lucian's little parable. "Perhaps." Her attention drifted to the direction he had indicated and all the uncertainty gathered there. "If no one ever lifts the shell, no one ever discovers whether there was a ball beneath it in the first place. Sometimes discovering that something does not work is still progress. Failure narrows the field." Attention returns to him "What would you suggest instead? We all sit in the taverne with home brew while we run out of matches and candles and sit very still and congratulate ourselves for being too clever to try?" Then his latter remark caught up with her, and one brow rose. "I said I did not need her to like me." Then did her attention turn to Marley. She had seen her earlier inspection of chipped nails, she too had suffered the same embarrassing affliction that had resorted to her having to pick her own nail varnish off. "Two streets over. House with the faded yellow door. Terracotta plantpot next to it. In the bathroom cabinet, there is a bottle of red and pink nail polish." Her own hands back into the pocket of her coat. "If you happen across plum, let me know." She inclined her head as Marley brings up the chair position "I think we can come to an agreement." However, as Marley left, she too made her move. "I have to go check the whereabouts of a pheasant." She took a step away, then looked back over her shoulder and gave Lucian a pointed look. "I may have to schedule a headache in for next week." Whether that was some strange condition, very efficient planning or a sign she was still annoyed and wanted it to be known, who knows.

Lucian dips his head in surrender to Marw once more, more heartfelt this time. "I don't have a better plan, and I'll follow yours for now, but I am not yet convinced we need to pull the trigger." He pauses briefly, then shakes his head. Maybe they don't have triggers, but they don't speak Spanish either. As the party breaks up, he strums a quiet determined song. One hand goes briefly to his heart as he learns of Marw's potential future headache. "I will do what I am able to stave off such an unpleasant condition for you, Doña Raposa." Certainly he doesn't proceed to mutter, "We might need a fair bit of tat," after Marley, because that would be suicide. Not where anyone else can hear him, at least.