[hr][center][h3][b][color=orchid]Solange - To the Docks[/color][/b][/h3] [sup][sup][sup][color=pink][i]Cut away the vines or they'll suffocate your own growth.[/i][/color][/sup][/sup][/sup][/center][hr] While the others finished their shopping and returned to the cart, Solange busied herself by prepping a potion to ease the fire burning in Maréngo’s stomach caused by last night’s carousing and nothing more. She leaned forward from the barrel in which Neh’miah was pickling and set down her handwritten journal in front of her. Detailed diagrams of stems and leaves painted the pages between the fine, flowing script of her notes and recipes. Shorthand and jargon popped up like weeds throughout the paragraphs, making the writing almost nonsensical to anyone but the author. It was intentionally obtuse by design. Solange didn’t want any prying eyes to suss the nature of some of her more sinister serums. She paused on a page and pulled roots and leaves out of her pouch. A vial was produced next, knocking against the one filled with the true culprit as she removed it from her bag, followed by a flask of clean water. Her hand disappeared up her sleeve to retrieve a foldable pocket knife. The well-maintained blade shaved off a slice of ginger root. She chewed the ginger vigorously, breaking it down to a pulp, and spat it into the vial. A pinch of salt followed, joined with a few crushed, dried leaves milled between Solange’s fingers that left the tips a deep crimson. She filled the vial with some distilled water, so focused she didn’t even spill a drop as Skarsat loudly cracked Neh’miah’s barrel right behind her so the poor thief wouldn’t suffocate, and put her thumb over top of it to give it a shake. Her eyes paused on the tainted coffee vial secured in her pouch. There was still room in the potion for a little more liquid. She glanced over at Maréngo. The sailor wasn’t without his sharpness, but he was distracted with his new pet and the kindly gesture of making him a stomach soother was all Solange really needed. Yet her cheek still stung from Skarsat’s slap, prodding her towards the sensible choice. She passed the vial to Maréngo and clocked one of the Sheriff’s men behind his shoulder as Y’vanna set some crates on the cart. [color=orchid]“Here you are, my love. Drink all of it now. It may not outright absolve you from revelry’s revenge, but it shall stymie some of the more severe symptoms. Avoid alcohol—I know, darling,”[/color] said Solange, feigning a pained expression and clasping a hand to her heart,[color=orchid] “—and drink plenty of water. As well, as adorable as Pyka is, save the rest of those plantains for yourself. They’ll help amplify the elixir.”[/color] A protective hand shut down to her satchel as Nora jerked the reins, setting the cart in motion. A dark cloud of frustration stormed past Solange’s face as she quickly gathered her gear before it could slip off and sat back against the barrel with a huff, knocking poor Neh’miah yet again. She let her legs dangle from the back of the cart, kicking them as they slowly progressed through the market. The cries of the gulls from the nearby dock stirred up a feeling of excitement. This was actually happening. The moment the boat set sail she would be free from both her obligations to Fontaine and her false promises to Vargas. She put a hand up to her mouth, disguising a chuckle as a clearing of her throat. What was the split Vargas had offered? Sixty-forty, minus the deductions she owed? It was fortunate he never spoke with her sister. Perhaps then he’d know that she wasn’t good at sharing. The sun felt nice on her skin and the future looked bright. Nora and Y’vanna proceeded onward with all the seriousness of a funeral procession as Pyka whined on Maréngo’s shoulder, but Solange felt like playing. She turned towards Skarsat with mischief on her mind, but the thought was suddenly shaken by the sight of another of the Sheriff’s men. No, this was the same one. A strange coincidence? He was looking their way, but was he actually watching? Solange stared directly at the guard, raised a closed fist up next to her chin, and pumped it twice as she puffed out her cheek. The raised eyebrows and turn of the head confirmed her suspicion. Solange’s brow furrowed as she straightened her back and stretched, using the moment to scan the crowd. She recognized a few other of the Sheriff’s men, some from this morning and some from nights at the Red Sail Brothel. They were positioning themselves apart, posting up at crowded intersections or in front of alleyways. Solange looked over her shoulder past Nora. It was becoming clearer that they were being funneled. She turned back and the first guard she had vanished into the crowd. In his place she saw Gerranti on the move with a look of determination on his face. [i]I would advise none of you to be around when I find this Neh’miah.[/i] Gerranti’s warning echoed in her head. Son of a bitch, they’d been ratted out! [color=orchid]“Don't look behind you, sweeties, but we've been outplayed by the Sheriff. It appears like his whole constabulary is here to charge us for the crime of smuggling [i]absolutely fucking stupid[/i] cargo,”[/color] said Solange, venom dripping from her voice as she eyed the crate of alchemist fire. She turned her head towards Nora. [color=orchid]“Darling, can this thing move faster?"[/color] [url=https://www.roleplayerguild.com/rolls/23059][b]Solange's Misfortune[/b][/url]