FraughtFaun

TSL: Sjakal

Soot scooted though the halls hurrying back to her studio. Desperately trying to get her outfit back in order. Her face was flush, hair unkept, dress askew, even one of her boots was partially undone, laces dragging along the ground. Getting thrown around by a sorcerer isn't the best for keeping your clothes together After-all, this little distraction had costed the painter half a working day, and she still had a piece to finish... As well as a waiting servant girl who really should to be let down to stretch her legs.

It wasn't exactly her 'proper' work attire but luckily it seemed the halls were quiet. If she could get back without too many interruptions the day might not be a total loss.

Until she ran into the Sultan's attendant. Who was... standing in front of the Vizier's office, enraptured, holding a dagger. Soot stared, for too long, in the way that an artist does. Before realizing she was staring at a girl, with a knife, incredibly absorbed in said knife.

Deciding this was most certainty not her problem: Soot turned on her heels and tried to march off, her face a stoic 'now is not the time to ask questions', before stopping on her bootlace and tumbling down to the ground.

TSL: Sjakal

Soot had pushed herself with surprising force, rocketing back off of the chest of the spirit-clad sorcerer and slamming into the couch. Knocking it back as she toppled head over heels. Disorientated, the painter rolled forward onto the floor and staggered to her feet. She adjusted her dress carefully, dusting it with a few measured pats before turning to address the Firewheels.

“Now, I Don't know about you. But I thought we were all here for a nice game of cards. Now, a little rowdiness is to be expected... but, if this is the expected level of decorum…” Soot pointed over her shoulder at the raging Rose “I think I'd rather cash out. You can keep her as compensation for my Ante”

Soot sauntered to the table and rested a hand back on her sword. “Only seems fair, no? Given how poor of a sport she’s been”

Her voice was strong, but the painter was shaking inside. She tried her hardest to maintain a wry smile.

My Hider

Rolling to Defy Disaster + HEART
[6+4]+2 = 12!

TSL: Sjakal

Soot coughed and sputtered, she’d left herself open in all the ranting and raving. But of course she would. She wasn't a fighter! She was a painter! She shouldn't be here, fighting for breath against the steel grip of her bosses daughter. She should be in her studio, quietly capturing the beauty of the evening Sjakal Sky!

She grunted, glaring down at Rosethal as black crept up the sides of her vision. 'Of course' the painter thought 'Can't figure out how words work so she has to resort to violence. At least she'll embarrass herself in front of those thugs she wants to impress.' Soot wanted to be snarky, to add more insult to the brutish Sorcerers tantrum, but the hand against her throat turned any snide remarks into weak coughs and croaks.

'.. fuck this' She though, as the anger from her rant rose within her 'not here, not now!' With the last of her strength Soot heaved up her legs, planting her feet against Rosenthal's chest. With one final grunt she pushed hard, springing back from Rose and crashing into the couch below.

My Hider

FIGHT
+Daring

6+3-1 = 8, so a mixed success.

I hope to...
-Seize a superior position, Via not being in her grip.
-Inflict a condition. Hopeless, or maybe Angry?

TSL: Sjakal

Soot’s mouth drew out into a flat line, her eyes narrowing as she bristled. “Shut.. up.” The painter slammed her hands down on the table, rising to her feet and pointing across the table at Rosethal, waggling her finger at the brutish sorcerer.

“The almighty places everyone where they deserve to be… Is that why you think you’re better than a Sultan? And Since when does this constitute ‘taking care’ of those who serve you! Looks like you’re bungling that duty. You didn’t take any care! You just scooped me up because you’re so bad at cards you had to find more things you didn’t earn to ante with. At the end of this game, when you end up trounced by firewheels, none of their spoils are going to be anything you owned in the first place!”

The painter learned in, her cheeks going red as she ranted “Remove the studio of the painter who WORKS FOR YOU, that is SO smart! Grade A ‘Mistressing’ Rosethal! So what! You want to threaten me with the idea of you whining to your mother? I wonder how Ruz would feel right now if she found out you were trying to sell me off instead of letting me do my work!” Soot inhaled deep before continuing

“Because, you know, Ruz likes me. I impress her! I’m not a burden who gets in my mother’s way, because I feel the need to prove my superiority. So I THINK Rosethal ‘what’s necessary’, is that you shut up, and play cards, and when I win, or the firewheels clean us both out, I continue working normally. What's ‘necessary’ is that you stop getting in the way of my work and what ISN'T necessary is me listening to you just because you think you can just use servants as coins for a game. Let alone the fact you don't seem to understand that some people aren't just your playthings, they are talented experts, who hold mastery over fields of study you couldn't even partially understand!” Soot stopped, panting, her finger shaking in front of Rose’s face between shaky breaths.

My Hider

The idea being that soot is kinda staggering, specifically like.. the version that is 'lashing out'. But i suppose theres some interpretation there

TSL: Sjakal

Soot tried, and failed, to hold back a small smile; Her cold confidence was quickly returning after a hand’s worth of chips made their way in front of her. All she had to do was demolish Rosethal and then buy out with her sword in hand, er, and herself.

She was a little concerned about Rosethal’s interest in her sword. Admittedly, the Painter would need to figure out a way to talk her way out of owning ‘the thief-queen's sword’ but if the brute Rosethal was interested… There was no doubt in Soot’s mind that the Vizier’s daughter had some foul sorcery in mind. But that would have to be a future Soot problem.

The Painter leaned back in her seat, if she could bait Rose into a few stupid hands it would be over in no time. Cards were a game about luck and reading people and Soot considered herself at least reasonably competent at the latter.

“So Rosethal.” She said, face still holding that small smile “Maybe when you run out of cash and have to ante yourself. I can win you as a decoration for my studio. Promise I’d take good care of you.” Her smile widened, as the painter's hand pushed some chips forward: raising the stakes a little higher than needed.

My Hider

Rolling for Entice, to bait Rose a little
[1 + 1] + 2 = 4

So. uh. Yeah, ykno.

TSL: Sjakal

Soot sits for a few moments. A blank expression and a dumb shocked smile plastered on her face as her eyes glanced around the room. It hadn’t quite hit her… but slowly the situation dawned on her.

Her mouth quivered. Panic setting it: No, This could not be it, Soot wasn’t about to be tossed to a horde of Firewheels as a bartering chip. Briefly she thought to run, but pain shot through her leg as she tried to stand, and a firm hand pushing on her shoulder reminded her that leaving wasn't exactly an option.

This was the end… At the whims of the Firewheels… Because of Rosethal. Her heart was pounding in her chest and her breaths came out ragged.

“W-wait” The painter managed to stammer out “I may be Rosethal's Ante, b-but I want to play too.” She pulled out her sword, cringing slightly as she slid it onto the table. “A sword owned by the Thief-Queen of Sjakal herself! Deal me in” The painter demanded. Looking to Rosethal with a cocky but unsure grin.

TSL: Sjakal

In one moment Soot was on her stool, brush in hand absentmindedly painting. A young maid had been brought in. Soot had only just finished hoisting her up and securing the lines when she had stepped just outside the door to grab some spare line, now, she was watching her studio get further and further away as her heels dragged along the palace floors. She offered the distressed looking maid a noncommittal shrug and sighed. Her arms slack in Rosethal's grip as her damp brush trailed along the ground.

Soot closed her eyes trying to relax. Staying in Ruz’s good books required appeasing Rose and couldn’t really fight against Rosethal even if she wanted to. So it was better to not anger the Vizier’s... rambunctious spawn and just go along with it. Plus, she doubted Rosethal actually knew Soot was, well, Soot: The palace painter, and not just some random servant.

She would just wait until Rosethal dropped her for some other more interesting thing and then scamper off back to her studio. Most likely, the brute's level of object permanence would let the Painter get away without too much trouble. The next time they crossed paths Soot would once again be a complete stranger.

---

She let her mind wander, everything was a blur since last night. Bowlyn ended up back at Soot’s house, they had only gotten partially home when Soot had calmed down, and it seemed Bowlyn was content with the usual plan: riding the adrenaline high all the way under Soot’s Covers. Although there was a slightly different undertone, a slight tint of both being too afraid to leave the other alone.

It wasn’t until they were dealing with Soot’s destroyed tunic that Bowlyn noticed her thighs. The jars from Soot’s bag had cracked and splintered. Paired with a lot of falls and tumbling had left stinging wounds that stole the Thief-Queen's attention. Their plans fell away into tender care, Bowlyn carefully bandaging as Soot complained until they eventually submitted to sleep.

Bowlyn stayed that morning, later than usual, and for none of the normal reasons.

---

The Painter's eyes snapped open, the dull ache in her thigh pulling her back to reality. This was taking too long, where were they going. She looked up at her ‘captor’, her pupils narrow and cold. “Excuse me” She said with a light clearing of the throat. “Might I ask, dear Lady, where we are heading…”

TSL: Sjakal

Soot staggered slightly, covering her eyes to avoid the Thief-Queen’s flash. “You know” Soot started “I think I had that reasonably under cont-” She was cut off by Bowlyn’s kiss. In an instant her normally cold, smug expression slipped away, her face softened as the Thief held her. Soot melted into Bowlyn's firm grip, weak to her touch.

The artist pulled away from the kiss softly, tears welling in her eyes as she looked to Bowlyn.. She leaned forward, squeezing tight and pressing her face into Bowlyn’s chest. “I-I’m sorry..” The painter blurbled, inhaling with a sob as her cool demeanor broke. “I.. I didn’t, I mean, I don’t.. I thought..” Her words fell away into a repeated ‘I'm sorry’. Her bag dripped between them, paint pooling and running down Soot’s legs as it seeped through the seams of her bag.

The mess of an artist allowed herself to be dragged, ferried off the roof and back towards her abode clinging to Bowlyn. Hiccupping softly and hiding her face as they travelled. Searching for composure in the cool night air.

TSL: Sjakal

Soot plopped on the ground with a soft ‘oof’ as Bowlyn pushed her out of the fray. ‘I’ve been getting thrown about a fair bit tonight,’ the painter thought, ‘I don’t think I care for it much’. She watched the standoff between Om and Bowlyn, her heart fluttering as she looked between her criminal ‘girlfriend’ and the Bound Titan. A terrible pang of guilt rang through her as she looked at Bowlyn, sacrificing so many opportunities to strike down the host because Soot couldn't handle herself…

She jumped to her feet, disregarding everyone's instructions and dashed forward, throwing herself between Bowlyn and Om. If Bowlyn was going to prioritise her safety, she would do the same. Admittedly going back into danger was a questionable plan, but the Painter was mostly going off instinct. Her Bag dripped paint behind her, as she clutched her scattered brush. Arms outstretched between the preparing duelists.

“Please!” The Painter shouted out, “Enough! Honestly! We don’t need to do this!” Soot looked to Bowlyn, her eyes full of concern she whispered ‘She.. Might be too much, even for you.. please…’ before turning to Om with a furrowed brow.

“I-, I mean I don’t know for sure. But I feel like you don’t want this! Do you even know how incredible you look, free and wild! But.. running around like a mutt for a Tyrant!” She maintained her serious brow, but her eyes were wide. Filled with the fear of both pissing off Bowlyn further, and also getting thrown off a roof by Om.

The Painter then looked up at the shouting Nahla, the distant figure not quite obviously the Servant from dinner. “And you!” Soot shouted “Mind your business; S-sometimes three girls make some noise y-you know!” Her face was flush: from yelling, embarrassment, and fear mixing together.

TSL: Sjakal

Soot yelped as she was ripped from her prone form and into the air. Shouting softly and thrashing, pallidly plapping her fists against the earthenware warrior. The bag of paint dragging over her shoulder and leaving a colourful trail peppered with shards of glass. When Om spoke, Soot’s face went blank; the panic and fear gave way to confusion.

Quickly she returned to her normal passive confidence. Fighting this thing: foolish, impossible, deadly. But talking? Soot could talk. Soot was great at talking.

“I’m Not! Obviously.” Soot said crossing her arms and twisting her head around to look to the Host


Om looked down at Soot, quirking an eyebrow. “You threw paint on me. And a net. As I was about to arrest the most wanted woman in Sajkal. That’s clearly insurgent behavior.”

“Since when does a spirit forcibly bound to steel not understand that people don’t enjoy the company of their oppressors. I can't be the first random civilian to throw something on you from a rooftop” Soot was not the kind of person to stoop so low as to stick out her tongue, but it certainly felt like she ought to be.

“Whether you like us or not doesn’t change the fact that acting against us in any way makes you an insurgent.” Om says, her brow furrowed, a sour grin on her lips. “That’s part of the perks of being on team big, oppressive, stupid empire, I guess. So when did you start throwing nets onto Fire Wheels then, huh?”


“Roughly 30 seconds ago.” Soot replied plainly.


“I’m getting sick of saying the word insurgent.” Om bemoans. One of the perks of having four arms is that you can reach up and rub your temples, hold a sword, and carry a cute girl under an arm, all at once. Multi-tasking! “You’re barely even a criminal. I don’t even care that you’re a criminal. Ugh. Being an attack dog is sooooo grating.” More whining from the Host. Her big ears twitch. The thief queen is quick approaching. “Alright, whatever. Scamper off, little miss snake. Don’t get underfoot when I bring my blade against Bowlyn.” Abruptly, Soot is released to drop onto the ground!

The drop is punctuated by a small ‘oof’ as Soot and her bag tumble slightly. From the ground looking up, she stared for a moment starry eyes towards the huge host, ‘free’ painted against the night sky and the ambient lights of the city. Her jaw hung slack for a moment as her mind raced.

“... You really are quite stunning” She blurted out like the gay little disaster she was lost in artistic thoughts of composition and pallet choices. “You aught to let someone paint you like this.. It says a lot more than how you are around the palace..” The painter trailed off.


“Paint me?” Om quirks an eyebrow, looking down at Soot, her dark red cheeks blushing just slightly pink. “You mean like–”

…

“...Around the palace?”