Getting to know you (Tags: Swift)

In the kitchen there was a commotion followed by squeals of glee as the younger girl came running out of the kitchen covered in flour. "You may run but you cannot hide from me..." Sorcha said laughing, pursuing the little girl, as much as her dress would allow. There was a swishing sound when she moved so the child could hear her coming but couldn't outrun Sorcha long enough. Soon Sorcha had scooped the young girl up in her arms. "Gotcha!"

"No fair..."  Rhyssara said with a pout. Which Sorcha remedied with a hug and kiss on the cheek. This seemed to put a smile back on the girl's face. "Now go wash up." Sorcha said, as if talking to her own child or little sister. Rhyssara was more like a little sister to her. She had made it her business to protect her from the horrors the rest of them had to face. In fact, she was the one who did most of the horrible things around here in order to keep the rest of them safe and protected.

Now she too had some flour on her dress. It couldn't be helped. Her hair was now a little disheveled as well. Again that couldn't be helped. She had arranged a meeting of sorts. Her contact with the rebels was mainly contingent upon one person, Swift. She had reason to believe he was sent to keep tabs on her and what she was doing.

Her father didn't trust her. At least, this was the conclusion she had drawn. No one could truly be trusted as far as the Rebels were concerned. The only thing keeping them together was a common goal. Their goal however, was not her goal. She had ulterior motives and she didn't want Swift to see that and report back to her father on any of it. If they came to understand one another, she thought perhaps maybe, he would have more loyalty to her than her father.

The large grandfather clock began chiming, as she swished towards the door in her sapphire colored gown. She opened the large door slowly and didn't have to look to know he was there. "Swift, please come in..."

It was true. Of course it was true. Swift reported what information was necessary to the Lord General Galedon because that was his meager part in all this, amoungst other minor duties. He was still too new to the circle to be given any greater tasks outside of playing messenger boy. But honestly, that didn't seem to bother him over-much. He was content with doing his part for now, and just getting paid enough in marks or other living essentials to get by. And though he was grateful for the ever so magnificent opportunity to serve the Chorong cause for that simple purpose, Swift had learned not to be so fond of ever cowing himself to some ultimate Lordship who only brought grief and despair to those who ever thought to differentiate themselves, object or fight.

Swift had long been one of those deviants whose life had been devastated by such a master. But he'd done well to put it behind him for the most part -at least as far as daily life went, he didn't have to think about it or attach himself to those kinds of memories, thus letting them control him. No. He ever desired to be in control of his own existence. He was no grub to be stepped on. And at least here, that hadn't happened yet; though it was something that he couldn't help but fear was just as likely here as it was in Keroon.

Whatever happened, he would have his freedom though, and for now, he was okay with this path he'd chosen. The Chorong weren't at least under the thumb of some tyrannical Holder. At least that's how Swift tended to view things. Holders just couldn't help themselves. It was their fate to act for the good of the 'greater hold' or their 'Blood', not those who they used to maintain it all. It was their fatal disease. Which hold or territory they came from made no difference.


Swift took a moment to pull his hair back into a stubby ponytail at the back of his head, any dark hair cropped too short to be captured by the tie left falling forward into his face. He had no clothes fitting for an upscale establishment like the Mask, so he felt terribly underdressed being in cargo pants and short sleeved shirt; even if the shirt was a bit fitted. At least it wouldn't appear too sloppy. And of course there was the ever present scarf or poncho about his shoulders. Since the weather was good, he'd worn only the scarf, and it had been looped about his neck a couple of times, loosely hanging.

As the man approached the door, he looked up from his boots to the door that slowly opened to him. Of course, eventually Sorcha showed up on the other side. Pausing there in the doorway to stuff his hands into his pockets, Swift couldn't help but smirk -that same, wry, lopsided grin that had always been fairly common to him.

"Well, you showed up at just the right time. If I didn't know any better, I'd think that
you've been watching me this whole time... only I'll never find you that bored."

Swift stepped through the door then, eyes searching the entry foyer of the place. He had to whistle at that. He let his eyes do most of the talking though, seeing as it was probably easy to see he was amazed at the looks of the place. Being his first time to step food into the Inamourata's Mask, he could see how it would be easy for anyone to be easily swept away by the fantasy and magnificence of it all. "Heh. Patrons here must be real gourmets." Speaking of their particular ...appetites.

Sorcha allowed him a moment to take everything in. "I have not known you long Swift but you have never once been late. Rather you have a bad habit of being precisely on time." At which point she indicated the large intricate clock visible in the hallway. He had a point, they did have the illusion of living well here.

"Yes, there is never enough time, is there. I'm never bored, except at the club and even then I generally have something to look forward to. Come upstairs with me, I think it will be easier to talk in private for now." She wasn't going to kill him, she wasn't even going to ask if he wanted companionship. She had honestly brought him here to chat. Before she could go upstairs, a fast paced child came running down the steps.

"Sorcha!" Rhyssara came bounding up to her.
"What is it?"
"Who is he?"
"Swift is a friend. Swift this is Rhyssara. Rhyssara, this is Swift."
"Are you going away again?"
"I don't know. Probably not. I will say goodnight before I go anywhere.Okay?"
"Promise."
"I promise."
Rhyssara hugged Sorcha then went back upstairs and turned into her room where she had studying to do.

"She thinks whenever someone shows up just to speak with me, it means I must go away." She shrugged, "I guess that is true much of the time. Though it seems my father has seen fit to keep the two of us paired off for the moment. And I need to ask you some questions because of it. My room is just up this way. I'll see we are brought some food and refreshment."

Sorcha did not expect him to trust her. "I do not expect you to trust me. I don't trust you either." She said openly. "But if I wanted to kill you, I'd do it elsewhere." And that was supposed to reassure him. Maybe it would, maybe it wouldn't. She didn't expect any less than his caution.

[ohhhh love your new banner for Sorcha, Kate!]


Swift freed his hands from his pockets as they started up the stairs, nodding that it was probably better to talk in private. Honestly, though she felt the need to reassure him, Swift had never really been afraid that someday killing him off might become Sorcha's purpose. Though it was just as likely the rebels may not need a reason to do so, there was no reason to, either; for some reason he simply did not fear that from them. He'd sooner fear the holds and their Guard for all of the devastation which they could cause.

Momentarily, his thoughts were interrupted by the child, and he grinned, arching a dark brow in consideration of Sorcha's altered persona here in the so called comforts of her own home. It was rather surprising to see her behaving in any manner less sinister than she had usually been infront of he or other Chorong. Then again, this place would be occupied primarily by women, as far as living situation went for much of the day. Perhaps that had something to do with. Outside of this place, the world was much different -though he was sure that the face of this place changed at night.

Watching the child run off to her own room, Swift only looked back in Sorcha's direction when she spoke to him again. Making it to the top of those stairs, he followed her to the room she would take them, nodding with appreciation.

In any case, to Swift, it was pointless talking of trust and betrayal. He'd become familiar with those things long ago; they did not frighten him. Nor did they surprise him any longer. Of course that didn't mean he was careless. They were simply expected at one point or another.

Thus far, he'd done well to survive them, just as he would continue to do.

She led the quiet man into her own room which was much more understated than the more open part of the house. Upon entering the door, the high ceilings gave the illusion of a larger room. The walls were painted a light gray-blue. Straight ahead were two large windows which let in the light but also made keeping the room warm and cool depending on the season, difficult. The glass for the windows alone was pricey.

The sitting area was to the right where a fireplace sat in the middle of the wall. Two chairs were near the fire place set caty corner from one another. In between the sitting chairs there was a small end table which held a solitary glow. The opposite end of the room, was her bed. Her bedding was not as flashy as perhaps one would have thought, seeing the outer places of the house. The room was actually mostly bare. The bed, the two chairs, one end table and a desk. She also had a walk in closet , filled with her more expensive gowns. The door to it was shut.

Teh furnishings were actually not the best made. She had a worn out bed cover in a tan color. Her chairs had marks from long use. Sorcha didn't care to have them re-upholstered. She never invited clients here to her room. She always went out.

There was also nothing in the room to say for certain it was her room. There was nothing in there of sentimental value. Nothing she couldn't live without. There was only one thing in the room that seemed personalized and that happened to be her desk which had a stack of well-read books sitting on it. Ink for writing and a quill and paper.

Sorcha walked over to a chair and sank into its well worn softness while her gown crinkled beneath her. "So, you get to be my babysitter." She said with a sigh, not even bothering to hide her irritation. Her father wanted her watched. It was obvious. "shall I let you in on a secret?"

Her eyes were on the small fire that had been lit in her fireplace about ten minutes before she had entered her room. "He thinks he knows what I want. He thinks he can control me up until the point where he doesn't need me anymore and then have done with me. I've been around men like him for as long as I can remember... I'm not so easily manipulated."

She knew she was staring at the fire, rather determinedly. Sorcha was aware what kind of person Swift was. Which was why he was here. Sorcha didn't trust him because he was like her. When she looked at him, she saw a reflection of herself. He might be more apt to sympathize with her struggle than her father's. She needed an ally.

[another amazing new banner for Sorcha! two in one thread 0.0 snazzy!]


Following Sorcha into her own private room, Swift wondered at her purpose for bringing him there versus one of the rooms in which the Mask's patrons were often entertained -even privately. He didn't look too much into it for the time being, and kept thoughts to himself as the went in.

Perhaps in comparison to the rest of the establishment her room was bare, somewhat in tatters when set next to the sparkling marble floors of the foyer below, but Swift had grown up knowing only how to live a very meager existence, so even this room seemed comfortable to him. For that very reason that the space seemed misplaced here, it probably seemed to him much more comfortable than any other room she could have chosen to take them to.

Taking the back of one chair to turn it to face the fireplace so that he could stay warm, pleasantly removed from autumn's chilled air, as they talked, Swift took a seat there. As he took repose there, he turned his eyes toward the flames that filled the hearth, wondering at Sorcha's purpose.

He knew that she was the daughter of the Lord General Galedon, so it was possible she had also been commanded to meet with him at some point to test his loyalty as an initiate to the Chorong's ranks -Though Swift was supposed to be her veritably sole contact with the headquarters. Still... it seemed illogical for them to have no other sources handy should something happen... the girls at the Mask would simply be cut off. Or Galedon would quickly be finding a replacement.

Sorcha was young though, and the way she spoke, he felt was honest. He felt that here, she could be an honest person; here in this room. Honest with him. Honest with herself. Maybe that is why she chose this place.

Well, to Swift, it didn't matter whether or not anyone knew why he'd taken to working odd jobs for the rebel cause. They'd known his position when they took him under their wing.  Probably hoping that that little bit of good-will toward him would lure him to being more affectionate toward their cause. But Swift was for no man's cause but his own. That was the cut and dry of it. And given what just came from Sorcha's own mouth, he was beginning to suspect that they were probably very much the same in that. But babysit? Hardly.

Swift snorted at the babysit comment, leaning forward to rest elbows onto his thighs, hands clasped loosely between his legs. Watching Sorcha now, it was a little sad to see a girl of her beauty and youth so abused and so callous. Even if that attitude was only turned toward the exterior to protect herself. No girl her age should be forced to be that way. Because surely that was the case. She was here, at a place of pillowcrafters wasn't she? Yet none should misunderstand him.. Swift knew little of pitty. He cared not for it. People had their own choices in life to make and could only do the best with what they had. There was no reason to pity and look down on a person for that. Anyone could be dealt a shitty hand and have to play it.

The young man's eyes searched her features then, trying to read what was underneath the words of hurt. Only after a long moment did he speak, "Well, I guess it's good to know that you aren't resigned to whatever fate he has planned for you; that gives us something in common."

Judging by her tone, he would guess that there was some difficult story behind what she spoke.

When he spoke, she was pleased at his response. Then he wasn't going to be one of those lackey types that would do as her father said. She suspected as much but had never said a word. She would never say a word as long as he kept this meeting between the two of them. Sorcha was amazing at keeping and gathering secrets. Every so often she might have to expose a secret but it was only those secrets which belonged to corrupt men. And no matter what Swift's past was comprised of, she did not peg him as corrupt. He was a free man, he had few obligations, he acted out of necessity more than greed.

Nodding slowly, "Good." She exhaled a long kept in breath and slumped ever so slightly in her chair. She was not at full alert. "I was hoping you'd say something to that affect." She turned her attention back to the man in the chair. "I want to take you with us, when the rebels come crashing down. We can offer you an exit which will keep you from being investigated by the guard. All I need you to do is keep some of my actions from my father, turn a blind eye, so to speak."

She wondered briefly if it was too much to start with. He could certainly tell her father everything, at which point, she would have to be prepared much sooner than she had anticipated. "I wondered if you would consider becoming a close ally, someone whom I could learn to trust..." And she would expect him to learn to trust her. "I'm thinking we could learn to be friends. I don't have very many friends but I think we would be good friends. We understand things about the world, beyond what our age should allow us to."

Sorcha had to consider that he might refuse. He might decide Galedon had the better hand. But he didn't know that she was working on gaining Yeoun's trust as well and Yeoun owed loyalty to both the guard and the rebels and that this rift between the two would cause him to have to make a decision. Both paths were going to lead to her father's end. Sorcha could see it all unraveling quickly.

Lucky for Sorcha, Swift cared little for power, so it mattered not to him who held the upper hand, her or her father. It seemed ironic to him though, that Sorcha liked to complain about how Galedon was manipulating her when she herself seemed rather apt to pick up the same kind of methodology. She sat here, telling him 'secrets', and to what end? Secrets were only used to manipulate. Yet, he doubted she was trying to do the same with him; but he wasn't about to put it past her to do something brash if he left her thinking he was going to be 'against' her in some way.

The young man continued watching her where she sat, mulling over her unexpected offer before he said anything. "Take me with you?" Just where did she think his interests lay?

"I guess I should thank you for even taking me into consideration, but I can find my own way." Isn't that what he'd been doing his whole life? "I won't ask why you hate them enough to need allies to destroy them, but you misunderstand me if you think that has ever been my purpose for joining the Chorong. It would be an even greater misunderstanding if you were to think I came here to make friends.

"The Chorong are able to keep me fed and in a warm bed, when I have become an outlaw in other territories. At least here I'm able to make meager earnings without notice." Another reason why he had no desire to be anything but small fry in the Rebel's scheme of things. "And none of those things give me any reason to ally with you but for the fun of it. Will you be able to compensate for my living situation when your plans are carried out? That is really all I care for, as long as I don't have to grovel to anyone." Perhaps it was all a bit blunt, but that's just how Swift was, and she'd seemed to be pretty honest with him thus far, so she deserved to hear the truth of his standpont in all of this. There was no reason to beat around the bush.

Sorcha was not sure how much of her plan she was willing to reveal and some of it was not quite complete. It was dependent on timing. "Oh you think I'm going to destroy them? Oh no no. I've got nothing to do with that. Except for my father but that is more personal than anything."

She wanted to be more clear. To help him understand. "I care about surviving. I see the players and I know the game and I can see where things are headed. The rebels will fail, I will kill my father one way or another and the young girls here will be freed of the chains which tie them here both by the Chorong and by the Mask."

She wasn't acting high and mighty, but she wanted him to understand a few things before he so hastily judged her. Maybe he understood completely and still had issue with her watching the Chorong fall. She owed her allegiance to no one. The only people she had any reason to protect were here with her and they deserved to be protected and freed.

"I'm not sure we can compensate as well as the Chorong do. Most of my marks are going towards sending the younger girls away. I'll have them gone soon. Just in case the Mask comes around between now and whenever the day comes for us to leave. I want them safe." She wanted to protect them in a way no one had ever done for her. They would never have to sell themselves. They would learn skills. It was the perfect opportunity to smuggle them to the Weyr. "We can certainly sell off some of the things in this place and compensate you with some marks and get you out of the territory or to a different part of the territory before anyone starts to round of Chorong sympathizers."

She gave him an almost ironic smile, "I'm not a fan of groveling myself. I would never ask that of you. As far as I'm concerned we're going to be equals in this. Now I do know more of the plan right now but all will be revealed to you eventually. I need to work out some kinks and I have to talk to someone else who is involved. Kind of the linchpin of the plan."

Yeoun was eyeing her, as if he measured up her very sincerity, the entire time she spoke.

So that was it then? She only cared about smuggling the girls from the Mask out safely, where they could make their way to the Weyr? That would be quite a feat, but he wouldn't say it was impossible. Swift didn't believe in the impossible.

Well, her plan seemed like a worthy cause; more so now than when he'd thought she deigned to destroy the rebels. And if her plan was not to destroy the rebels altogether, it was still likely his situation wouldn't be much changed on this lowest end of the totem pole, so he could help her and perhaps not have to give up his place within the ranks. As long as no one suspected his involvement. Then again, a lot could go wrong to spoil the plans and he'd have to come up with some sort of backup plan for removing himself. Only, where would he go? Swift wasn't about to head to the Weyrs with them. Did Sorcha plan on going there as well?

Whatever the case, her cause was more noble to him than that of the rebels, if the rebels too, were becoming more and more willing to use others and discard them so easily once they were done. Such things had never sat well with him.

That still left him with the question of what he'd do if he ended up having to run away from the Chorong, even run away from Telgar? He didn't have any backup plans to that. He hadn't really anticipated any impending need for it. Even if he didn't help Sorcha in her scheme, he could still end up being forced to leave the Chorong's ranks.

Thinking about what would happen if he decided to return to Keroon at such a time, Swift's accent grew more distinctive in its Keroonese origin, "Let me think about it." Well.. he would think about it, but he was pretty much already decided on lending his assistance.

Then, assuming their conversation was probably at an end, he got up from his chair, casually pushing it back to where it had been before his arrival.

"Please do. I need to have someone here I can rely on to help them out, if I should die." She got up and walked him to the door. "If you need anything, just let me know." Although it did seem to her he wasn't nearly as interested in female companionship as most of the men who came through here. Well they could still give him comfortable accommodations should he need them. And of course she would be able to give him a few marks here and there should he need them.

Sorcha didn't feel she needed to tell him, she would not be going with the others. She was almost certain she was going to die on this mission of hers to kill her father. Then she would have had enough vengeance and then she would be ready to let go of everything, including her life.