[PRP Tale] I'm The Kid Your Mama Warned You About [Oz | Nyx]

[Miss Chief aka Uke]

I'm The Kid Your Mama Warned You About

“Ey-ey-ey-ey, easy on the arm there, pal…” Ozzrick jerked his shoulder against the now-finally-loosening grip of his captor. “I told you I didn’t steal anything. You see? He’s found it all now, it was a miscommunication.”

One ‘officer’ of the peace — likely some guard hired on for the course of the grand market and lingering after while the festivities toned down — held his arm and shoulder while another spoke with the disgruntled merchant and purported victim of Oz’s pilfering. Despite all the bluster, however, everything was where it ought to be: all the man’s wares, his coin, and goods secured in his wagon.

“It wasn’t—” The merchant shook his head, looking from his things, to Ozzrick, and shooting him one of the most unpleasant looks he’d ever been on the receiving end of. “He took them—I tell you he stole and got them back in there after some’ow. He’s a crook, all of them gypsies are, and if you set him off now if it’s not me, it’ll be someone else he nabs blind.”

This time when Oz moved to pull away, the man holding him allowed it—convinced, apparently, that nothing was actually amiss despite the merchant’s blustering.

“So,” Oz said, taking a step back, “I’ll just…be seeing myself out, then? If you gentlemen have this covered?”

Sneering, the merchant spit at the street. “Thief.”

Ozzrick saluted. “And a lovely day to you too, my good man.”

As he stepped off, retreating around the side of the wagon, it was to the sound of the merchant still arguing with the guards that he eyed the back of the man’s cart. From a hook hung a charm—a carved figurine of varnished wood fastened by a leather string. An interpretation of a local deity, most likely, or a trinket for luck to ward off bad business. Worthless in terms of sale value, surely, but the man had been so kind to him. And Ozzrick did love souvenirs.

So, he reached, unhooking it from its hang and whistling a botched rendition of a Tale tavern song as he walked off, pocketing his newest bauble as he went.  

[MissMisnomer]

Nyxamora had gotten bored at home (who was she kidding, she was almost always bored at home), slipping out when her aunt had turned away for a moment to hand some rolls off to one of her many cousins, darting off to escape the heat of the bakery. The shady trees were always much cooler this time of day, so after pocketing some small rocks as she walked, she had skittered up a tree to perch on one of her favorite spots.

This particular limb was so coveted because it provided her an uninterrupted view of the stall that was always set up about 20 feet away, one that sold food to the passerby and customers of the market. With practiced accuracy, she’d lob a stone while the cook’s back was turned, and if her aim was true (which it was, at least 85% of the time), it would ark right into the bubbling pot of stew that was hanging over a fire pit. How many she could get in was always the challenge, because the higher the proportion of rocks to soup was, the better the chances were of a tiffy customer coming back to chew out the owner about stones in their food. Which would either go rather blandly, depending on if either wasn’t in a mood that day, or would end in spectacular fireworks of profanity and threats. After so long, she was honestly surprised that he hadn’t caught on by now, but it was undoubtedly delightful to see how crimson his face would get as he tried to figure out who kept putting stones in his product. Either way, it helped kill her boredom.

Nyx had gotten down to the last rock in her bag when her long ears picked up on a ruckus coming from a different location, turning her head to watch amusedly as that fat merchant that had come for the Grand Market got into a rather heated squabble with some red-headed guy, and oh goody, the authorities had gotten involved. She found herself quietly rooting for him despite herself, mostly because the other guy just seemed like a real p***k. And lo and behold, the stranger had been able to walk off free of consequences. But it looked like the colors the merchant had painted him in were all true, watching as he pocketed a talisman off the back of the cart. She snorted quietly, and for no other reason than he had piqued her interest, flung her last rock in his direction, the pebble dinging off a wooden post near his head.

“You know that’s supposed to be unlucky, right?”

Nyxamora hollered down at the stranger, sitting on one of the “lower” limbs of the towering trees skirting the market, feet lazily swinging in the air under her.

[1/10]  

[Miss Chief aka Uke]

Thhnnk.

Ozzrick froze mid-step, attention flicking to the point of impact, and then down, to the fallen stone. For an instant, he thought the merchant had spotted him and that he was about to go through all of it all over again—but then, just as he turned to look for the source of the projectile, she announced herself. He raised his eyebrows.

Nice horns.

Thumbs hooking at his pockets, he approached, stopping at the trunk of her chosen perch and tipping his head as he got a better look at her. His age or similar by his best guess. Unfamiliar, but cute—in a sharp, angular sort of way. She looked, he thought, something like he imagined mischief would, if it were given a face and fingers to toss stones.

“Never heard that,” he said. “Maybe it explains my luck some days. But here, if I’d known all this time pretty girls grew on trees, I might have been a gardener instead and saved myself all the trouble. Do you throw stones at everyone? Or only people that look like they need advice.”  

[MissMisnomer]

Her eyes tracked him as he got closer, getting a better look at the stranger. Certainly was a well decorated guy, walking around without a shirt on. Good thing they weren’t in Zena, or his nipples might freeze right off. The thought made Nyx snort in amusement.

At his comment, she rolled her eyes, smirking because really, that pickup-line was clever in its own groan-inducing way. She leaned over to look down at him, shrugging her shoulders. “I don’t discriminate. But if they are balsy enough to steal something with officers right around the corner, figure they could use a reminder that perhaps taking lucky charms from their owners might bring back some negative karma to bite them in the a**.”

She grinned and leaned back, tipping with her hands laced behind her head to come swinging under the branch, knees locked around the limb as she craned her head, rolling her eyes up to look down at him. “So… did you steal anything? Before? Promise I won’t tell.” She pinched her fingers at the corner of her lips and twisted, tossing away an imaginary key.

[2/10]  

[Miss Chief aka Uke]

Oz snorted, mouth cocking up at the corner with amusement. “Negative karma can get in line,” he said. “It won’t be the first thing looking to bite me. Anyhow, even if it is unlucky, I figure chances are…” He fiddled through the dangling assortment of charms at his neck: baubles, trinkets of good luck, religious likenesses—a condensed museum of most anything anyone might have promised to bring good tidings in the future. “I’d recon at least one of these has t’ have the magical chutzpah to make up the difference.”

When she swung, his eyes followed down her body to the sweep and dangle of her short-cropped hair and earrings, to her lips where she threw away her invisible key, and finally to her eyes.

He smiled, shrugging and making a show of taking a moment to ‘consider’ before telling her, “This time, no. Not from him. He’d had a branch up his arse earlier with one of his hired hands, getting red in the face screaming at the boy for not having arranged everything in order before it was to be set out for sale—it sounded from what I gathered as though he couldn’t read so well as he’d promised when being hired, or perhaps not at all. In any case he made such a public spit while there was a performance going on, I could hear it over the music. Which is a feat, I promise you,” he said, “if you ever see one of our shows.”

He adjusted his weight, glancing in the direction of man’s wagon as he folded his arms. “It left enough of an impression that I paid his goods a visit. I…misplaced a few things inside. I had the misfortune of being spotted loitering too long and, as you saw, was taken to him later while he was making another fit of himself—as you see, it’s quite rewarding in that sense, and I was pleased to see some of the returns of my work. But everything was there, so once it had all been located they were kind enough to set me off on my way. I am sure he’ll ever be convinced something is still amiss though…”

He tipped his head as he eyed her. “And what do you do for entertainment?”  

[MissMisnomer]

She was honestly a bit surprised he had even told her at all: even if it wasn’t the truth, she was still a stranger to this guy, he didn’t know her allegiances. She could tip off the guards that he should be watched, that he might be a vagrant. The thought made her snort though, because really, no one would believe her even if she tried. Comes with the reputation.

“Anything really.” Nyx waved her hand in a non-committal way, gesturing about. “Sometimes it’s sparring with the boys. Or seeing how close I can get to the Kinfas before they notice me. At the moment, enjoying this fine day away from the heat of the ovens back home.” She nodded with her head in the direction of the stall she had been bestowing her attentions upon earlier. “You might want to avoid getting anything from the vendor over there anytime soon. Unless you enjoy rocks in your soup…”

She raised her eyebrows, tilting her head. “…you know, I never caught your name.”

[3/10]  

[Miss Chief aka Uke]

“Ozzrick.” He considered her. “I could say the same of you. The Girl Who Hangs From Trees is a bit of a mouthful. Do you live about here, then?”

Since she’d spoken of ovens and ‘home’ he got the sense hers was a more stationary sort than his, though the girl didn’t give him the air of one to stay tethered long. It looked as though she were already fraying her leashes end, if those were her hobbies, just waiting for an excuse to chase something more exciting than the limited thrills a grounded village life could offer.

“I’m not from about, though we travel through herebouts often enough. Our troupe is the Treasure of Shimza. Fifika, our tamer, will be performing this evening with one of our newest catches…” He flashed his teeth. “What’s the most exciting thing you’ve seen recently?”  

[MissMisnomer]

So his name was Ozzrick then? Helped to have a name to place to the face. If he was trading, it seemed only fair to offer hers up as well. “Nyxamora. But everyone just calls me Nyx. My place is about a twenty minute walk from here.”

She crunched upwards to grab hold of the branch, pulling herself up again to straddle the tree limb. But that wasn’t quite comfy enough, so she leaned forward to lie down with her head resting on her arms and her ankles intertwined, much akin to a lazy house cat soaking in the midday sun as she looked down at him.

“I’ve never heard of your troupe. Must have missed it every time you’ve wandered our way.” Her ears twitched at the last of his words, posture reflecting the interest he had piqued. “Aside from the debacle you started earlier? That’d have to be… when Kyko broke his leg the other day. Bone jutting clear through his calf, blood everywhere, you shoulda’ seen it. He screamed like a little girl for hours.”

[4/10]  

[Miss Chief aka Uke]

“Nyx,” Oz repeated, mostly to himself to have the name on his tongue and hopefully commit it to memory. Certainly if he was going to be spending any more time with her, it oughtn’t be hard. “We haven’t often so it’s little surprise, and it’s quiet enough here usually we wouldn’t perform. The Grand Market stirs up excitement on both sides of the border though, and there’s temporarily enough foot traffic to make things more…worthwhile for everyone involved.”

Ozzrick gave a wry smile at her answer—a curious thing to find exciting, but he supposed it certainly was a variety of excitement. “Nothing I’d pay to watch,” he said, “but it does sound like a spectacle. And an interesting source of kicks for a soon-to-be-merchant girl I presume, if you’re stationary. What does your family do? Make shoes?” He glanced down her. “Or ornamental tailoring services. Your clothes look to be cut with an eye for your size.”

Nicer than he might expect from someone throwing stones, so clearly she wasn’t too poorly off. Whether or not she fit within the comfortable niche society had carved for her was another question entirely.  

[MissMisnomer]

At his remark, Nyx scowled, huffing against her hands. “That’s what my aunt would like, but there’s no way I’m just gonna keel over and―” Makes heavy air quotes with her fingers, rolling her eyes, “― ‘settle down’ in this place. Find a ‘nice guy’ who’ll ‘appreciate’ my ‘unique personality’. Like that’d ever happen. Please just shoot an arrow through my eye and put me out of my misery if I’m ever content to be called… ‘wifey’.” Actually gags at the word, shuddering up on her tree branch.

Had gone on a bit of a rant, forgetting to address the end of his question, blinking a few times as the unimportant inquiry registered finally. “Oh, these?” Looks down at her chest, at the leather top she’d crafted for herself, “No, my family bakes. Rolls and cakes and all that junk. I’ve got connections for acquiring this kind of stuff.”

Raises her eyebrows down at him, shifting to sit up again. “Why do you ask, you lookin’ to buy?” Scans his outfit of choice, which was… wanting… to say the least. He seemed to make up for it with all the trinkets hanging from every place he could tie one. Her lips stretched into a smirk, cocking her head.“Your rear looks like it deserves better than what you’ve got slung over it at the moment. I might be able to make something happen… for the right price.”

[5/10]  

[Miss Chief aka Uke]

Ozzrick’s lips quirked up at a corner, expression amused as he listened to her initial rant. It wasn’t surprising to hear. For all that she came from different roots than him, her spirit seemed to be in a similar place—too restless to be tethered long to the mundane. And even after the briefest of encounters he would have laughed in the face of anyone pegging her as ‘good wife material’, at least in any traditional sense.

He tipped his head though, at the latter comment, amusement stretching into a tilted grin.

“I wasn’t planning on it,” he said. “Though I appreciate the observation and eye for detail. Have you traveled beyond Tale before? If you grow bored of tossing stones and find yourself time this evening, you should come visit our camp…I can introduce you to people with more interesting stories than bakers and tailors.”

Being near constantly on the move, Ozzrick had few lasting friendships aside from with those already a part of their group. But it didn’t stop him from making connections where he could, and as much as he enjoyed the adventure of his lifestyle, it was always nice to have opportunities to act with more others his age.  

[MissMisnomer]

Nyx watched him from up on her branch, growing more interested by the second. It was true, there weren’t many with interesting stories to tell around here, not in so small and quite a place. And to hear what life was like outside of Tale…

She stood up on the branch and balanced over to the trunk, securing footholds to shimmy down the tall tree with a swiftness that can only come from years of experience and the propensity to throw caution to the wind afforded by youthful arrogance. She hopped the last few feet to the ground to land in a crouch, straightening out as she turned towards Ozzrick, looking up at him with a kink in her brow: didn’t look nearly this tall from way up there.

“Well pretty boy, I just might have a slot in my ever so cluttered agenda that I can jot your name onto. Never seen a traveling troupe before; I hope it’s as exciting as you are talking it up to be.” She reached up to flick his nose, turning around with a smirk as she walked away. “I’ll look for the tents that are as big and flashy as you are~”

[6/10]  

[Miss Chief aka Uke]

Ozzrick watched her shimmy down, and found himself silently appreciating the natural, practiced and confident ease of her movements—lithe cords of muscle wound up in a small and tomboyish but still clearly feminine frame. When she looked up, he grinned.

“Oi…” He tipped his head at the flick to his nose, and spared her a wink. “I look forward to it.”

As he headed on his own way, his mind lingered only fleetingly on her before — as he made his own way back to camp — other things took precedence. Though he wasn’t performing today, there was never nothing to do, and on returning, it was no time before he’d been wrangled into ‘making himself useful’ — in this case, helping to feed Fifika’s newest catch.

It was some wonder of itself that they had even managed to capture it in the first place, and unfortunately, since he hadn’t been there, he couldn’t know all the details. Among a group of storytellers and adventurers, the precise sequence of events had a way of changing depending on who told it and when. Regardless, the chiavi was all but a creature of legend—at least the way it got talked of—and as soon as it had come forward that some had been spotted, Fif and several of her favorite company from the troupe had gone on a quest.

The weather was too warm for it naturally, but with the help of a little spellwork, the area around its cage at least was cooler—almost frosty. Inside, the beast, a ‘fledgling’ Fifika had assured him, looked none too pleased with its circumstances.

“You’re sure it’s going to get bigger, then?” Ozzrick asked, eyeing it with curious interest. When he plucked up one among many of the unfortunate souls in its fish bucket — ‘dinner’ — he watched its attention hone, and its head tilt. He let the limp, scaly body flap from one side of his fist to the other.

“Oh, not a wink of doubt,” Fif answered with sharp, bright-eyed look as she finished with the fastenings and ‘harness’ on it before taking out keys for the cage. “Bigger, stronger, and heavier than you and me in time…but right now, he’s just a little hungry and picky boy.”

‘Little’ was not the word Ozzrick would have chosen. “Picky?” he asked.

“Won’t eat unless we let him out for it. We’ve tried slipping everything in there, but it won’t do. He knows he’s better than that—which is just as well,” she said, looking cheerfully unconcerned even when the beast squawked with brief offense at the clack and creak of keys and metal hinges. “As soon as he learns well enough to behave, he won’t need the cage so much anymore. Not good for a sky fellow anyway. So here’s to hoping for his sake his temper ebbs quickly.”  

[MissMisnomer]

As Nyxamora left the scene of her unexpected meeting with the stranger, she tried to keep her mind on things other than what they had spoken of. Pounding dough into submission, cutting neat rows along the baking sheets, whisking away maddely until all the ingredients made the proper slurry: they were all tasks that required physical focus, but regrettably, her mind was still free to wander. And inevitably, it kept going back to concocting images of just what exactly a troupe might look like, what interesting things they might do, what she might see. So she huffed to herself and snapped at anyone that tried pestering her, but the truth was inescapable: she was looking forward to meeting up with Ozzrick again.

After enough time had passed that she wouldn’t appear too eager, Nyx made herself scarce at the bakery and slipped out again. Her weathered feet led her through town, and after poking around for leads, found herself at the entrance to their camp. Everything was so…colorful. And new. And different. It was designed to catch the eye, and keep it there. Even the people she passed as she made her way nonchalantly through the encampment seemed to compete for attention, sporting outlandish tattoos and accessories and all manner of alterations to their appearance. In fact, even with all the things she’d done to make herself stand out, Nyx actually looked like a dime a dozen in a place like this.

She wasn’t sure how she felt about that.

She’d said jokingly that she’d look for the largest and flashiest tent to find Ozzrick, but upon going to such a tent and finding only a beefy man with a blue beard engaged in a tongue wrestling match with a large bosomed woman, that strategy clearly had to be altered. She didn’t want to have to ask for help, but it looked like she was going to have to get it anyways, whether she liked it or not.

Because one of the troupe members cornered her as she was snooping around.

“You’re not supposed to be back here; customers are supposed to stay up front.” The tall man notched his head, motioning his thumb over his shoulder, “Come on, I’ll guide you.”

Nyxamora grunted, feeling irrationally caught in the act. Though, really, she shouldn’t: she had an invitation to be here. But old habits die hard, and she didn’t appreciate the tone the older man was using, clearly pegging her for a troublemaker. Which she was. But that was besides the point. “No need big guy, I’m here because Ozzrick asked me to come. Just point me in his direction and I’ll be on my way.”

He eyed her a few moments longer, then shrugged, gesturing to their left, “He’s over by the animal pens with Fifika. Just past that big green tent over there, and about a dozen paces further. Do us a favor and don’t touch anything.” And off he went, clearly with more important things to deal with.

Nyx scrunched her nose at his turned back, mumbling grudgingly under her breath, “ ‘Do us a favor and don’t touch anything.’ I’ll touch whatever I damn well want, old man.” But whatever. He’d told her where to go, so she’d gotten what she needed.

Heading over there was easy enough, and soon she saw the familiar head of red hair she was looking for, who was holding a fish in his hand in front of a cage that held… something? What was that? Some kind of huge bird? It wasn’t a kinfa, that was for sure. The only way to tell for sure was to get closer. Nyxamora strode over to his unoccupied side, crossing her arms over her chest, “Sup. Long time no see.” Keeping her intense curiosity in check was proving to be a challenge, creeping its way into her tone as she eyed the strange animal, “So…whatcha’ got here? Certainly a big ball of feathers, in’it?

[7/10]  

[Miss Chief aka Uke]

Within the troupe, there was activity and movement everywhere such that generally speaking, not much of Ozzrick’s attention was on the background of his surroundings and passers by were ignored—mostly. Fifika’s section of the camp, however, was set out enough from the rest for practical reasons that anyone directly approaching any of her active animals was notable, usually one of her team of handlers. In this case, however…

Fifika’s eyebrows rose, eyeing something over Ozzrick’s shoulder with amused interest, and Oz blinked, glancing over his shoulder to—oh. He grinned, fish coming to a standstill in his hand. “Oi, you did make it.” What was her name again? Niz, Naz—Nyx?—he was fairly sure that was it, but if she didn’t introduce herself to Fifika, he could find some way to work it out.

“This, little miss,” Fifika began with a sharper, keen flash of teeth as she pulled the cage door open with a low creak, “is a legend in the flesh and feather. A royal of the sky in the making.” Leash looped around one hand, she stood ready, poised as it came nearer to the opening and—snnnk—she latched it onto the beast’s harness as it came to the edge. “Chiavi,” she said, “are said to be descendants of the goddess’ messenger himself, mmm? This one’ll be able to carry a man and a half or more when he’s grown…just stand behind Ozzie so if he decides he’s in the mood for eyes and fingers instead of just fish, we won’t owe you a glass eye.” She winked.

Oz wasn’t sure it was a tease that would have been appreciated by or intimidated most he might have brought back, but he had a sneaking suspicion this one, if anything, would only feel the spark of challenge. Still, for his own benefit as much as anything, Oz felt it pertinent to ask, “Has he tried for eyes?”

Fif’s smirk was not reassuring. “Oh, Yobi…he just likes to test you, that’s all.”

Fortunately, at least for the moment, the bird’s attention seemed locked on Ozzrick’s fish more than any valuable body parts.

“Why don’t you let the lady toss it if she has an interest? Yobi catches.”