"Bright morning!" Tamilyn chimed in answer to the ringing of the bells that hung on the shop's door. Setting the last figurine on the shelf, she tucked her rag into her pocket and turned around. The folds of her burgundy skirt were hidden from waist to knee by a once-white apron, its ties dangling out beneath the sleeveless silk blouse she wore. Her face brightened as her gaze fell on the newcomer, a blonde man with a dusty beard that gave him a grizzled look.
"Jamie!" she said with delight. "What brings you back to town so soon?"
"What else?" he asked her with a casual shrug. "Got the latest shipment in and figured Russ would have my hide if I didn't bring it straight in. Better question is what's got you all dolled up and in the store, thought you prefered the road."
"Double duty," she admitted, giving his arm a friendly squeeze as she slipped past him to head toward the sales counter. Idly, she brushed at one of the curls that had fallen loose from the pile of hair she had arranged atop her head, beads glittering from within it. "Leila can't tend as often with the child, and they've not yet hired a clerk on, so I offered to help." Beats thievery, she thought but did not add. Her time with Michael and the subsequent parting lingered as a shadow in her memory, even if she had convinced them to leave her be.
"How is the squirt doing?" Jamie asked, following a step behind her.
"Growing like a weed. They always do." She rounded the counter and hopped up on a stool, then leaned forward conspiratorily. "When are you going to find a woman so you can see for yourself?"
Behind his beard, the younger man's face turned bright red. "You know me, Tamilyn. I like the road too much to settle down." She chuckled at his discomfort, shaking her head.
"Who needs to settle? Plenty of women enjoy traveling just as much," she informed him as she reached for a drawer. Tugging it open, she withdrew a key and handed it over. "Help yourself to the back, plenty of room for whatever you've got."
"Will do," he agreed, snatching the key readily and making for the door, all too ready to escape the conversastion. "Good to have you back!"
Good to be back, she thought with a grin as the door closed behind him. This was more her speed, her life. What was the point of growing old if you couldn't relax a little in the process?
[Tamilyn M. Gaijin, Waterdeep]
The thrill that had come from her escapades had long since faded, leaving Tamilyn with a slightly sour expression as she followed the others through the darkened streets of Torregiano. The beads in her hair clacked together in the cold, one last snap of bitter weather before spring took hold, lending a subtle rhythm to their procession. Unlike nights before, Michael was not there to guide them, leaving her in charge - that, though, was a mere formality. Everyone knew their place.
A misty rain began to fall, and almost as one the group pulled their cloaks closer about them, warding off the damp. As they turned one final corner, one of the men fell behind, matching Tamilyn's pace and giving a low, appreciative whistle.
"Look at these homes," he said, eyes glancing from one side to the other and sizing the houses up. "Makes our mark look like chump change. Whaddya say we tweak the plan and go after a bigger fish?"
"No changes," she told him blandly, not even giving him a second glance. The others did not slow, three shadows melding with the night, though each hesitated only slightly as they listened in on the conversation. Two walking down the street at night were lovers, five were trouble. Beside her, Darren shook his head, gesturing to one of the houses.
"That one looks custom built! Think of the profit," he continued as though he had not heard.
"Think of the wards," she countered, murmuring a quick spell under her breath and watching at the street blazed to life with the magical glow of wards and protective spells. "Lit up like Westbridge in December."
"What do you know?" he snorted, coming to a stop. "You're just some piece of tail the boss is jonesing for, else he wouldn't have left you in charge." Ahead, one of the men murmured agreement under his breath, drawing a rare smirk from the woman.
"Of course. It had nothing to do with the fact that, unlike you, I do my research. Nor with the fact that I was involved in these kind of operations before any of you were born." Shaking her head, she picked up her pace, though on short legs she could hardly outstride him. When he clamped a hand on her shoulder, spinning her around, her eyes narrowed.
"Listen here," he growled down at her. "I like you. You do good work. But I'll be damned if I'm going to pass up the haul of a lifetime because of someone who hasn't been with us 3 months! We've been together a hell of a long time, successful too, and we didn't get that way by passing up opportunities." Again, that damned murmur of approval from the others. Something in Tamilyn snapped, and without a word she called to the air around her to lift her up. When she was eye to eye with Darren, she jabbed a finger in the direction of one of the houses.
"That one. Owned by a wealthy merchant who uses it as a guest house for clients. More wards than I can handle, I assure you." She pointed to another. "And that one is a high ranked member of the Church of Strife. You want to take them on?" Again, she pointed, this time to the one he had commented was custom built. "And let's not forget this one. Belongs to both a leader of the Crimson Guardians AND one of the highest ranked inventors and technicians of the Tripower, who leads their public faction. I don't need magicked sight to tell you we'd not even get in the yard let alone the house without setting off more wards than you can count, and if we did, we'd have one of the strongest empires in existance on our tails so fast it would make your head spin. Fool!"
He stared at her a moment, aghast, before stammering, "How... How do you know all that?"
"It's my job," she said with a satisfied smirk. "Our mark lives nearby, so I find out what else we have to contend with and who we don't want to piss off. But since I am just, as you so eloquently put it, some piece of tail, I suppose you don't need my input. If you will excuse me." Spinning on heel, she strode past the others without a glance, whispering a spell so she faded out of sight.
[Tamilyn M. Gaijin, Waterdeep]
"Leaving so soon?" Michael purred behind her, his voice barely above a whisper in the tiny bedroom. Tamilyn gave a soft, demure laugh and glanced over her shoulder, pausing in the doorway.
"You know how it is," she replied, winking playfully. "The early bird catches the worm."
"And you know all about catching worms," he said with a smirk as he rose, tying the blanket around him to retain his modesty. He was across the room in scant strides, his hands on her shoulders, turning her around and staring down at her. The nearness of him reminded her of their first meeting in the bakery weeks before, and she smiled mysteriously as she tried to slip from his grasp. His hands held firm, fingers pressing in through the silk of her shirt.
"Mike," she giggled, twisting to get away. "Please. I have to get some work done."
"Aye, on the streets panhandling, where no proper lady like yourself belongs," he countered, voice dead serious. At his tone, she hesitated, standing still once more and peering up at him. He responded as though reading her mind. "Yes, I know. I have watched you many times, the incredible performances, the miraculous illusions. I would give you work, if you'd have it."
"Work?" she asked, voice razor sharp suddenly. Gone was the playful bedmate, the persona rolling off her as her defenses rose; he had been watching her? He wanted to give her a job? "What kind of work?"
Gently, he guided her back toward the bed, lowering himself to sit on its edge. With soft direction, he brought her to sit beside him, so they might look eye to eye - or closer, at least, than when they stood. "The kind best done behind drawn curtains and in shadow," he said eloquently, his eyes piercing into her, watching for her reaction. She gave him none but a crooked grin and a shake of her head as he raised a hand to brush her hair.
"I am not a woman of the night in either meaning," she told him firmly, reaching up to brush his hand aside.
"I know, I know. But you are a woman used to high living, fineries and elegance, of great talent - not a woman who is used to sleeping in abadonned shops." Again, she was startled, though she kept her reaction carefully hidden behind her calm expression. He knew where she slept? And ... he knew how she had once lived? "Oh, I have seen the bag you carry," he explained, once again following her thoughts. "Such a magical item is only owned by those who live, or once lived, with great wealth or power."
"Regardless, I will neither steal or sleep my way to such comforts." She was careful not to confirm his beliefs; her past was best left where it belonged.
He shook his head, leaning back on the bed, elbows propped beneath him as he stared up at him. "That is a shame," he admitted. "You yourself know how much excess you once had, how much you could stand to lose without even noticing. You are a fine lady, my Tami. Would you not have been glad to know your wealth was helping to support one who had fallen on bad times?" She eyed him, not liking where this was going, and refused to answer. "The thefts will be carried out with or without you. They would simply be easier with your talents, ensuring less chance of needless bloodshed. And, of course, with one such as yourself familiar with what the rich would and would not miss, you could ensure nothing of ... too great a value was lost."
"But-"
"Shhh," he hushed, lifting a finger to her lips. "Think of those you would be helping, by joining us. We steal to live, to survive, to fill our empty bellies until better opportunities come along. You would be helping us survive, and helping those who are also helping us by guiding our actions. We are not fiends, merely desperate men."
Her eyes softened, and he smiled victory back up at her. "It is decided," he said, tracing his finger out to her jaw and down her neck. "Come now, let us enjoy the day before we start our business tonight."
[Tamilyn M. Gaijin, Waterdeep]
For a change, the Square was alive. The sun shone overhead, battling away the cold enough that some people had decided to enjoy the outdoors. At this, Tamilyn smiled broadly, shrugging off her cloak to reveal a stunning golden blouse and dark navy skirt. Her hair, as always, hung in waves around her face, spotted with the yellow beads that were freshly woven into it. The golden jewelry she usually would have worn was missing, pawned earlier in the month to pay for meals, but she did have a plain golden chain that lay around her neck, easily seen above the dipping v-neck of her top.
Setting both her cloak and her bag at the base of the fountain, she perched on its edge and untied the edges of her backpack, widening it enough to remove a small lute, sized down to suit her own small stature, swaddled in cloth. She unwrapped it with reverence and set the cloth aside as she tuned the instrument, plucking at the strings until she was satisfied. No passersby paid her any heed as she plucked the deep blue hat from her head and set it on the ground before her.
Thus prepared, she began to play.
At first, the melody seemed piecemeal, a slower tune with almost a jazzy feel to it. Harmonies built upon basic chords, intricacies upon simple refrains, and as the song changed so, too, did the environment around her. Ghosts of broad tree trunks came first into view, shimmering and transparent, and elementalist’s illusion. Unlike a true illusionist, who wove magic to create full bodied images, she had developed her own style that tied itself to song and was born of two more basic elements: colored light and shifting shadow. It sprang from her unconsciously, she had performed this song so many times, a show-stopper that would hopefully garner attention where music alone would not. From the Square she made a forest, and from behind a tree emerged a young girl of perhaps 5 years. Her hair was long and brown, tied back with a green ribbon, and her face was all freckles and enormous hazel eyes that stared at the world with wonder behind miniature spectacles. She prowled into the center of the trees with a Cheshire grin on her face, her green sweater complementing a skirt woven entirely of leaves. Flickers of light, other leaves of brown and yellow tumbled from the invisible canopy overhead.
The girl began to dance as Tamilyn sung:
Spinning, laughing, dancing to
her favorite song
A little girl with nothing wrong
Is all alone
Eyes wide open
Always hoping for the sun
And she'll sing her song to anyone
that comes along
Fragile as a leaf in autumn
Just fallin' to the ground
Without a sound
Crooked little smile on her face
Tells a tale of grace
That's all her own
Spinning, laughing, dancing to her favorite song
A little girl with nothing wrong
And she's all alone
Strumming the lute further, Tamilyn let the song fade as the girl suddenly looked up, as though called, and ran off into nothingness. The trees faded with the last notes of the song, and in the silence, the performer looked up. Only a few had paused to observe, but each of them applauded politely, and a few choices flew through the air to land in her hat. With a grateful smile, she bowed her head, and the crowd wandered away.
[Tamilyn M. Gaijin, Waterdeep]
Mood: Scared
There, I've said it. I am scared. Ice is happy, Ret is ecstatic, I am scared. Ice had a father, Ret had uncles, I had no one in whose steps I can follow. How do I know how to be a mother? I have a few sparse, early memories of my own mother and a number of stories blown out of proportion as stories always are. Who do I turn to? What do I do? What if I make mistakes, as I know I will?
What if something happens to me and my child grows up like I did?
This last adventure brought out the journal I have long neglected, because I do not know where else to go. I know, I should talk to Ice, but how do I tell him I am not as excited as he is? I want to be. This is a miracle in an almost literal way. But I am just so scared. I want a mother, but not my mother. I want things to be different. I was reminded, on the last flight, just how easily things can go wrong. How quickly circumstances can change. My life is filled with risk, maybe more than I should be taking. But then, if even flying the Alyra is a risk, what do I have left? I cannot give my child the childhood I had, I do not want to, but what if it happens?
So many questions. So little family. The crash also reminded me of that, of how little I know about being a family. My grandfather - what a foreign concept - told me how my mother grew up, and it was not much different from my own past aside from the reasons. I had no idea what she went through, how young she was when she started out on her own. I would feel for her if she had not turned around and chosen a similar life for me. She ensured I was surrounded by people, certainly, but it is never the same as parents, as family. I was lucky to have Ret to ground me. She should have known better.
I would never leave my child. Ever. As much as I fear I do not know how to be a mother, I know that much, and I have to live by it.