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The Office of the Citizen's Committee

Vluharqih (guidance)
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Trisselyn
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13th of Ashan, 716
Is this freedom? Or is this another of Gavin's tricks? But, how much does it really matter? In the end, I'm still his puppet.

The thought was not one of melancholy, but rather an acceptance, a matter of fact that was as readily admitted as the colour of the sky or the season of the arc. For Trisselyn, her chains were not physical, the shackles that held her to Gavin more a resistance to an upheaval of the norm than the true desire to have the Lich in her presence. She was, upon his orders, meant to linger within the city of Etzos, to watch for anything that might strike her as unusual, as well as to hone her practice of Necromancy. Of course, the entire situation was unusual, given very little go off of aside from the express promise she had committed to. Did it matter, in the scheme of things, if Trisselyn obeyed her master? Yes, for he would find her if he ever found out. A resigned shrug moved the sorceress' shoulders as the thought sprung up, only to be expunged as a hand reached outward to caress the wooden surface of the door, pushing it open and making her way towards the waiting area.

The wait was no more than ten bits, the Necromancer's gaze hardly moving from the bracelet that she wore. Perhaps Gavin thought it was amusing, to assign her a conduit which took the shape of a slave's bracelet, but it was clearly not her place to question it. The conduit that Trisselyn held was precious to her beyond measure, the lasting reminder that the woman was, indeed, a Necromancer, for the inherent trouble of the discipline made its uses few and far between. However, it wasn't the actual use of Necromancy that fascinated Trisselyn so. When at last Trisselyn was able to enter the Housing office, she did so with grace.

Trisselyn did not seek to bear a smile upon her features, noting Kellen Mora's own neutral expression. Comfortable within the silence, when at last the Necromancer was addressed, her lips parted to speak.

"My name is Trisselyn Ismaeda, and yes, I am here to find a permanent home in Etzos. Are there any options to consider in the city, or am I to be assigned a home?"
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TRISSELYN (Housing)
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Trisselyn
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It was in moments like these that Trisselyn found the possibility of a giggle welling within her throat. The woman's adolescence had by no means encouraged her to laugh, but in the few moments, so far in between one another, the gesture came out rather generously. So, when Trisselyn let laugh escape her lips, it took a moment for her to compose herself. Fingers moved to comb through blonde tresses, beginning near her ear and combing through to the ends, Trisselyn letting the tresses fall back, naturally, into place as she looked to Kelleen Mora,

"Yes, I am unwed and without child, Ms. Mora. Fate has not given me the chance to birth a child, and it seems as though it never will."

With this admission, Trisselyn seemed utterly nonplussed, for the rigors of parenthood, not to mention that of pregnancy were trials that the Necromancer had no intention of facing. As Kelleen continued to rattle off prices and information about 'rented accommodations, Trisselyn let her lips purse in frustration. This was not the information she had come into the Office of the Citizen's Committee for, and she would have interrupted the woman if she had not decided to relinquish a few pieces of information that did hold the woman's interest. However little they did so. Moments later, it seemed that Mora had caught her own mistake, and the flush that materialized upon her expression was amusing in it of itself. Enough so, anyway, that it was worth the two bits that she had taken to rattle off.

"Is that so? How strange. One would think that after spending so long in travel, one would come to Etzos to stay! The city holds its charm and its citizen's committee obviously does an exemplary job."

The expression of bemusement upon Trisselyn's features would not be missed, though she did mean her words, to whatever extent of truth that they held. Though Kelleen seemed to give Trisselyn ample time to change her mind, there was no bait to be taken there. Trisselyn had spent arcs traveling with her Lich master, and now that she was afforded the opportunity to stay in one place, she'd seize the opportunity with both hands. A house, or rather, a permanent home, was the epitome of what she desired most.

"You said 250 gold nels, correct?" Upon asking, Trisselyn's fingers drummed along the surface of the table, her expression screwed up just slightly as she mumbled quietly to herself, the obvious signs of an individual doing a quick sequence of arithmetic in her head. Once she was done, her features turned to that of a genuine smile, the woman nodding twice as the information seemed to correspond with what she had gathered beforehand.

"Hm, I believe it'd be best if I could live somewhere near the Citadel. I suffer from a dreadful fear of the destitute and the distasteful, as you may understand. I would prefer, if possible, to live far from the rank of the commonwealth and near where I would most likely engage in a medical profession. Something that, of course, once I'm done here, I will pursue with your esteemed colleagues."

With that, Trisselyn waited, the fingers of her left hand drumming lightly along the surface of Kelleen Mora's desk.
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TRISSELYN (Housing)
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Jachiel
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It took the best part of a break for Jachiel to work his way through the city and untangle a route to the Office he'd been told about at the gate. He gave it a long wary look, checked that his right hand was tucked securely into his coat pocket, and took a deep breath. He squared his shoulders under the weight of his bag and plunged in, only to be met by three more doors. He scanned them, his mouth tightening, then turned right towards employment. A well groomed older gentleman greeted him with a smile and an outstretched hand. There was a brief fumble as he stretched out his right hand and Jachiel stretched out his left. Jachiel fixed that with his wearily familiar method of twisting his hand backwards. He grasped briefly, then let go and turned the indicated armless chair around so that he could straddle it backwards without banging his bad arm, catching weapon or bag, or taking his gaze off the older man. He eased open his coat so that the gladius was visible, then laid his left arm across the top of the chair back.

"Name's Jay," he said in terse response to the questions. As he had at the gate, he gave the short form of his name rather than the full one. He had little doubt the forms would be compared, and they'd better match when they did. "You got farms, I saw. Any of them need a workhand? I can dig and weed, handle oxen, that kind of thing. I'm not afraid of hard work."
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JACHIEL (Employment)
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Nauta F'mos Geey
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36 Ashan 716


With the information given by the guardsman from The Great Parhn Gate, F'mos found himself at the office without much trouble. Sure he met some difficulty when trying to get directions from a few people as he thought he might be lost but the arena was a good enough landmark as any even if it wasn't already in the center of the city. Whoever put the office by it really knew the sorts of people who might want to use it. A newcomer like himself, he thought.

And then the annoying task of navigating through all the bureaucracy began. Remembering what the guardsman had told him, the relevant bits anyway, the Aukari navigated his way through the door marked "Housing" and found it...unpleasant. He could tell the woman just wasn't any interested with his needs. By the Immortals, she wouldn't even spare a glance at her visitor! The nerve.

Even as he finally closed the door and took his seat F'mos could only think of the many ways he would have dealt with this obvious sign of disrespect but he was no longer a man who had any rank or authority to make anyone's life miserable. Anyone who was stupid enough to have rubbed him the wrong way back in Sirothelle the way this woman does now.

A pity... It would have been a great contribution by F'mos to the place he would call home for the foreseeable future if he was able to improve on its public servants...motivation towards their work.

A smile masking his true thoughts F'mos began to answer "well Miss Mora, I'm F'mos, hello," and in a forcedly excited manner explained "I'm not sure how long I'll be here so your helpful guardsman at the gates advised me to look into getting a proper house, even if its temporary, while I look into getting work."
***
And the housing? That costed money. Money which F'mos obviously did not have given his rather sudden departure from his home. Which was why he immediately stopped by the room right opposite him when he left the housing office. Another wait. This really wasn't something he enjoyed. His time was precious or at least the borrowed time afforded to him. How long has it been already? He just had to hope it was enough.

Because that was a gesture from this distinguished looking gentleman, just something F'mos had to had to acknowledge. It wouldn't do to have the next cycle or so be F'mos doing a job which was beneath him. He gave a smile and quick shake hoping that it will pass without any incident and took his seat. It felt a lot more uncomfortable now than it had been when he was in the other office.

"Ah yes, thank you Mr Mead. The name's F'mos. Been cooking since I was a kid actually and I'm hoping for a job that would put me in a kitchen. I'm not going to say that I'm not going to steal all your city's specialties but I'll at least serve as good a dish I can until I move on." That was probably the best performance F'mos was going to give today. He was even able to give a fist pump with that delivery.

F'mos watched as the man started to go through his notes while the Aukari spoke and then continued "of course if there isn't anything now, I could try doing whatever else work you might have? I'm going to need some cash at least to pay for the house, hopefully..." his tone dying off. No, F'mos wasn't resigned to the possibility that this enterprise of his would fail but perhaps in making good ol' Mead think that would get him something good.
word count: 657
But I don't want to cure cancer. I want to turn people into dinosaurs.
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Nauta F'Mos Geey (Housing)
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Nauta F'Mos Geey (Employment)
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Considering the question for a moments, the man decided that "just F'mos will do" and after a pause to consider it a little more he added "its all that I know" hoping that it may satisfy any reservations the woman had towards him. Any more questions towards his name than that and 'F'mos' would have to get creative and he wouldn't like having to be creative. He was going to need a lot more time than this to consider the fine details of any story he may be expected to give the annoyingly curious.

It was that the price made him feel down, more like it would be a lot safer for someone like the Aukari to be in the stone house. Safer for himself and his stuff that is. Like he would care for any of the other people in Etzos. Again the man considered his options. 60 a season for the foreseeable future and...what's that? What exactly was she trying to tell him?

F'mos adjusted his seat to get closer. He didn't want to miss this, probably. Despite his earlier impressions of Mora she seemed quite helpful now, although she is probably being like that because of her work. If she was really trying to somehow subtly suggest...hmmm...really? "That sounds convenient" and it was not the fact that out of the blue there was a cheap option for him. It was more that he wouldn't know when he would have to get out of Etzos and from his trip here he knew that having some form of shelter he could take him would be quite useful.

"Yes, that seems good enough until I get everything sorted out. Thanks you've been quite helpful. I'll return once I'm ready and if you could tell me where to get one of these tents, I'll be on my way."
***
A melting pot of human cultures? That was a laugh from what he knew about the city and the lengths he had to go through his for his deception. If F'mos let it slip that he was one of those Aukari, a culture itself, he would find a less hospitable treatment. However he would keep that detail to himself.

And the detail that he used to be in the military. Sort of. Which is why "no, not the army. I'm..." which excuse would be appropriate now? "...not invested in Etzos enough for that." On the other hand unseating one of the other established cooks in the city would be a fun idea but not an idea F'mos considered to be smart. He didn't need the attention.

The suggestions seemed to get less promising until "a soup kitchen?" But if Mead was right about the entire deal then... "yes...that could work..." Deep in thought the wannabe chef missed the bits of the conversation which were irrelevant to him and nodded as the man before him droned on just like he would when 'concerned citizens' would give complaints to him. "So where are these Blacks located?" F'mos asked, his mind set.
word count: 526
But I don't want to cure cancer. I want to turn people into dinosaurs.
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