Phedre entered the tavern in silence, sliding the hood of her cloak down to expose her silk black hair and gold-like eyes. Her lips lay placid in a subtle smile as she looked around the room. She found a somewhat crowded table near the fireplace and began to saunter over. She stopped infront of the table of 5 burly men and unclipped her cloak. She held out her arm, offering the cloak for any of the men to hang up. They had stopped dead, becoming deaftly silent and were staring at her with mouths agape. Her erinyes form seemed to transfix the men with her beauty, making them stumble as they all moved to hang up her clothing.

She smiled and the nearest man melted back into his chair. She faught from rolling her eyes and got right to the chase. She had to be a better trader than a hunter. She was paid little coin for that job and did little hunting either. She ran her hand through her hair to settle it neatly and smiled once again at the men. "So which one of you boys are interested in a trade or two," she asked amusingly.

As they fumbled through their words Phedre glanced to the door, it seemed another stranger was entering...

The cringing sound of a wailing screech called out from the slightly rusty and off balance hinges of the tavern door. Rather than slow his entrance in an attempt to quiet the unpleasent tone, he pushed harder and allowed the motion to complete as quickly as possible. Instead of a drawn out session, it was over in just a moment's time, and it was likely that those unfortunate enough to be paying attention when the sound began were grateful. A large form filled the doorway, a shadow cast inward though there was little light to be had outside in the night sky. It was a man, judging by his build, but other specifics could not be easily gained through the thick hooded robe that covered his form. As if to satisfy the prying eyes that were watching him from several places in the populated tavern, two large hands reached up and threw back the hood. Straight, long, white hair poured down into the robes that still covered his shoulders, but at least it was now certain that the occupant was male. His skin was white, slightly tanned, but how strangely white. As the hood fell away, the shadow cast forward to mark his presence almost magically vanished, as if a new light had watered it out back to the abysmal home of nothingness.

Most who chose to look at him during his arrival now turned away, some out of drunken disinterest and others out of a desire to avoid unwanted attention. Loud footsteps could be heard on the wooden floor as what resembled metal was dragged along atop his feet. Something peculiar was in his eyes as he scanned the room in passing, a simple side track while he found a table near the side wall of the room, opposite the fireplace. Sitting down slowly, he waved off a bar maid that had swooped in for an order. He preferred to sit and watch something invisible between his eyes and the table, digging into thoughts and memories.

Curiousity in Phedre's life had been supressed... usually, but every odd moment it would creep so deeply into her head that she simply could not shake the idea of investigating what was going on. She pushed her job as a trader to the back of her head and peered through the seemingly brighter light of the tavern, trying to get a better look at the male. He was tall, seeming to look well built. Phedre's head cocked to the side in an interested gaze towards the man, his skin seemed so remarkably white. She looked away a moment, running a cold hand over her own face, her fingertips lingering on her cheek. No, he was not her type of white.

She risked another glance towards the man, her jet black hair falling in a curtain beside her face, sliding off one shoulder. Gold eyes watched from beneath the few stray strand over her face. She was intrigued. She straightened and seemed to turn back to normal posture, running a hand through her hair to settle it again gently behind her, out of her way. Her life in isolation and her old anti-social self kept her from recognizing the dieties, let alone worshiping them. She knew little of them and their powers, except for Ranewen, the Goddess of Darkness. A home was prepared there for her, constant welcoming. She smiled at the thought of never having to worry about a home or a friend.

It was odd for a vampiress to worry about company, but she seemed pulled towards others in a different way than feeding. Of course she always had the company of her dire tiger Falco, who seemed to be off galavanting in the darkness outside, but that wasn't the same. She shrugged, shaking her head back into reality. She was debating whether to approach the man or not when she finally heard one of the burly men shout in order to get her attention. Was he asking her about trading? She smiled at him and asked him to excuse her a moment, promising to return with a seductive smile. That was it, she could offer a trade, and excuse to get a better look.

She walked slowly towards the man's table, her eyes forward and a smile on her rouged lips. Her Erinyes form had shrunk into the core of herself, nothing but her beauty and her gold eyes showing that she had any contact with a demon. Finally she reached the table and raised an arched brow slightly, "Good evening Sir," she said with her usual songful voice, "I do hope I am not disturbing."

((OOC: Wow... a creative burst.}}

There was no movement from the man as he continued his gaze into the seam binding nothingness to something beyond comprehension. Without motion, he was moving. An unfelt and unseen wind seemed to jostle his long hair back and forth, one tiny gust after another. Those loose strands that did free themselves from the weight of the pushed back hood waved through the open air as would thin vines from an ancient tree. He did rarely notice this movement, having become quite accustomed to it by this time, but devoid of better focuses of the physical senses, knew of its course away from his scalp. It was his habit to concentrate on the metaphysical, those thoughts and ideas that would never manifest in the material realm, and the physical, the most important or insignificant movement, sight, or feeling. It was his way of grounding himself in the world that he existed in, an anchor as he ventured past those bonds that chained him within the confines of his body and spirit. So, feeling those strands of hair in their constant battle with the unfelt winds that racked his body always, he was content enough to consider ignoring the woman's approach and eventual words. Of course, he had been thinking for quite awhile now, longer than he could recall, though he at least knew the season had changed once, perhaps twice. He would not have entered the Bloodseal Tavern if he had no interest in conversation. The woman before him, one possessed by an inner shadow that was a beacon though the light of his vision, would satisfy for a conversation indeed.

"Your disturbance will be directly aligned with the amount of interest derived from your next comment, so I suppose we shall soon discover the answer together," came a deep voice as he continued to look down at the table, the lightning in his eyes still hidden behind their white lids.

Having some idea of what the woman wanted, at least in finality regardless of method, his large right hand appeared from beneath the table, only partly covered by the brown sleeve of his robe, and a clenched fist was placed on the table. Opening his white fingers, two gold coins rattled and fell to rest on the wooden surface. With a deft motion, he slid his fingernail beneath one of the coins and flicked it upward, just hard enough so that it stood vertically on its side. The second coin lay flat on its right side until Sargoth flicked it as well. The gold mark spun in the air over the vertical coin and struck the wood on the opposite side, beginning to spin. After a moment, the precious metal slowed and halted, it too remaining vertical on its thin edge.

Phedre watched small gusts of wind brush through his hair, her hands limp at her sides. She felt a weight on her chest and suddenly wished she hadn't approached the man at all... if that's what he was. She pushed back the temble in the back of her mind, he had a strong aura, and Phedre could only assume he possessed many formed of magic, strong magic. Her hands clenched in the relaxed fists, sweat gathering in her palms. Her face remained unmoving, showing none of the emotion that was bleeding through her viens at the present time.

As the stranger spoke, Phedre raised a brow slightly, letting it arch gently in a face of beautified shock. He did not speak like one of the bandits or tavern men, nor did he look like one. She ran her fingertips together, and he didn't feel like one either. She inhaled slowly trying to come up with an educated answer. Her mind was blank. The thoughts of asking for a trade had escaped her mind until the coins magically danced seemingly across the table.

She ran a hand slowly through her black hair, strands flowing through her fingers like liquid shadows. Her feet were still planted firmly on the floor, she hadn't moved since she had gotten there. The idea of asking for a trade seemed so weak now. If he was a mage bandit, he could easily kill her, or at least stun her, and take her trade-money. She thought further, if he was a merchant, perhaps he would respect a trade? She decided not to take the chance, and instead stood there dumb for a few moments.

Finally, she wet her lips with her tounge and forced a smile to dance upon their crimson surface. In the background she could hear the burly men fighting over who would get her drink or hand her her cloak. She shook them out of her head and decided to try a respectful approach, he could be a powerful lord of someplace. She bowed deeply and looked up through her curtain of hair, "a question, if I may," she said softly, her mind racing with an excuse, half of her just wanted one of the men to grab her and haul her away from the mistake she walked into, "what brings you here? I can't remember ever seeing you here before."

Sargoth was intrigued. Perhaps the woman had not gravitated toward him on the strict grounds of business. He allowed his mind to wander on the subject without attempt at verification, just for the sake of having a mystery to unfold with time alone. He had grown weary of the absolute knowledge that could be gained by simple effort, and this night it would be only a matter of fate and luck if he was going to read this woman for her intentions. It was a game, perhaps one of unwilling players, but a form of entertainment nonetheless. The hollers and calls of the tavern grew louder and softer in waves of excitement and emotion. He knew several of those yells that reached from wall to wall were directed toward the woman standing at his own table. With a moment of stillness and silence, he broke his fixated gaze and looked up, his eyes staring into the woman's face. Lightning raged behind his lenses, across the entirety of the sight-giving orbs, in an unending storm. Those bolts particularly strong and potent in their race across the tiny enclosure almost brightened his eyes to the point of washing them out, but within the instant they would return to their original color. They were still white. His mouth formed a line across his face as he evaluated the woman for the first time with true senses. Stunning, perhaps too stunning. He understood the male callers a few tables away, now, at least for their insistance. Considering her question for another moment, the line across his face began to move, allowing his deep voice to escape once again.

"You may because you have. It is simple enough to realize that you have not seen me here because I do not spend time here. As far as why I am here now, perhaps I have come to see something new in this world, or perhaps it was the closest door when I wished to be under a roof. For the sake of the matter, I could have wished to come in this tavern, sit at this chair, and await your arrival so that we could have this very conversation. Maybe you could tell me why I am here?"

With a sweeping motion of his right hand, it cleared the space across the table, pulling the two coins back into his possession. He never moved his gaze away from her face as he did so. Hand now returned to his side beneath the table, he allowed himself to become curious. How would she respond? He could tell she felt on edge, her clenched hands the most obvious sign. Perhaps he would have to put more money on the table to give her a goal to work toward, or maybe taking it away was what she truly needed to see. He was enjoying himself behind is unflinching face; this was challenging, harmless, and fun.

Phedre could hear the echoing male calls and tried to push the thought of a lost business out of her mind. Finally the stranger looked up at her, lightning dancing across his eyes. Phedre did the best she could to not stumble back and fall over a nearby chair. Instead her mind was the only thing that screamed a short pierce of panic surging behind her eyelids. It was obvious now that he was not a mortal being of the realm. He had to be some kind of God or someone God touched. She rested her hands, palms down on her hips, the sweat disappearing into the material of her clothing.

She had debated now whether to excuse herself politly and walk back to the cat calls, but she could not pull herself away for some reason. She doubted this man was an friendly as Ranewen was to her and it left a dark, heavy weight on her chest, but she remained still none the less. He was intellegent, well spoken, she would die to be able to delve into the caverns of his mind for just a moment. Eager to learn and better herself, Phedre tried to take something from everyone she met, adding it to her bag of tricks.

She wondered what to say after the booming voice of the man finished speaking with an philosophical question. She decided to play it humorously, knowing that her mind was no match for his. There was an empty seat nearby in which she itched to sit in, but there would be no escape if she did. She, instead, inhaled slowly and let a mischievious, but elegant smile appear on her rouged lips. "I believe you came here to make a trade," she said, her voice soft and velvety, her eyes a matching glimmer, "or at least drop a few coins for a lady new to," she paused not wanting to appear like a beggar, she only wanted the gold so she could keep her job, it paid enough to keep her well equipt, "this part of the world."

When he removed the coins she barely flinched, just rasing an arched eyebrow for the third time in their short meeting. Her head was cocked slightly to the side in curious intrest.

"So I came to this tavern to make a trade, I see," came the calm reply from Sargoth as he evaluated the woman for another moment. He would never stop watching someone if it was still in his interest; there was always more to learn if he could look hard enough. She was frightened, perhaps that's what he picked up in her eyes. Fear was acceptable, commonplace these days as he travelled from place to place. She stayed her ground, though, a respectable quality by itself. She remained without wavering and regained her confidence as she spoke. It would be an interesting night after all.

"Well then, I believe a trade is definately possible, but I see a problem. If I were interested in simply giving a few coins to a lady, I would have had the chance to empty my pockets countless times in the very streets before coming to this tavern. A trade requires something gained by both parties, something of desire. I know what you desire," he stated, a cool gaze catching her eyes as he spoke. His closest hand raised up and he opened his palm, within it a single gold coin laid flat in the center. "However, you have yet to convince me that I want to do business with you at all. Interest me, tempt me, show me what I have always needed but never knew I wanted it at all. Then, then and only at that time, will you be correct in saying that I have come here to make a trade. If you do particularly well, perhaps the transaction will be more beneficial than you had hoped."

His arm moved out more, toward the woman, palm still raised with the gold piece. He nodded slowly as he offered the single piece to be taken.

"Consider it a downpayment on a very enlightening conversation."

Phedre relaxed somewhat. She still didn't know what she was doing, she still didn't know what to say, but for some reason, she grew slightly more confident. She sat in a chair opposite from him, taking the gold coin from his hand. She flipped it upwards with her thumb, watching it spin in the air, and then caught it with a small ping. "If I would have known having intellegant convorsations with someone could get you money, than I would have fought for a ton more gold than I've been getting." She smiled genuinly, her pure white fangs flashing against the candle light. The noise from the burly men had faded off as they seemed to return to the drinks, somewhat saddened that she didn't return.

She reclined somewhat in her chair, running a slender hand through her night, black hair. She had no idea what to offer him. Nothing she had seemed right. She rested her arms, crossed, over her chest. She didn't have much anymore, those men were quite... generous. She shrugged, she could wing it. "What did you come here for then? What trade is it you need. I can give most," she paused a moment, "anything."

She would not discuss it further, she needed the money and the man said that if she succeeded she would get something truly benificial. What could that be? Her body rushed for the need to suceed. She wasn't a failure, she never took that feeling well. She was an assassin, a lady of the night. She wasn't a trader, she wasn't a hunter. She wasn't a prosititue or a scholar, she was just a beautifl woman with a deadly smile. She cold not tell him that. If he found her business unsatisfactory, he would find himself with a resentful vampiress who doesn't take critisism overly well.

She came here to get a glimpse of him mind, to learn his tricks, and so far she could find little out and it was getting difficult to stay focused.

With a long, drawn release of breath from his nose, the look in his eyes shifted within a blink. His hand, that still remained open in offering to the now sitting woman, closed into a fist as it had been when first moved over the table. Breathing in slowly again, he opened his palm. A gold coin rested inside of it. It looked familiar, given the hand-crafted nature of the money. Turning his hand over, he caught the falling gold mark with his fingers and returned it back beneath the table. He suddenly was disinterested in the downpayment when the conversation appeared to be turning sour. Perhaps the desire for gold would push the woman back on track and keep him entertained.

"Dear girl, it was you who determined that I was here for a trade. Now then, with that in mind, I do not see how you can expect me to tell me what I need. It is both impressive and useful to be able to offer so much, but part of your work is to show me what I need. I might add, for a beautiful woman, you should be quiet about your generosity, less someone find a desire beyond your want to fulfill."

He stared into her eyes, remembering the glimpse of fangs. A vampiress? Perhaps just a dental curiosity. Regardless of the conversation he was still intrigued by the woman, not a complete loss. Perhaps she would come to terms with her position as trader and step back into old habits. Or, then again, maybe she never had any habits to fall back to in the first place. She was not acting well practiced with her trade, perhaps because it was not her trade. He could only sit and wonder what she would say next as he felt his hair slowly waving in the unknown wind.

Phedre rolled her eyes. She wasn't a prostitute, nor would she turn there, she just needed the coin to show her employer that she could actually do her job. It was obvious that she couldn't. For some reason, the bluntness of the man and they way he toyed with coin were beginning to build frustration in her chest. She no longer felt calm or curious, she felt annoyed and targeted. She seemed so much less intelligent, and suddenly, her thirst for his intelligence lifted.

She rose to her feet, both hands on the table, and leaned towards the stranger, "I am not a trader, and I don't offer you anything but the once intrest of a hungry mind." Whatever caused her to grow so frusterated continued to build, "I do not want your coin, I do not want your convorsation. Humility is a fine art Sir," her eyes were dark and solid, dashed with anger and aggression, "for all of your seeming intelligence it is something to work on. A flaw have we all, that's what I always say." Her voice was slowly raising, "some are bigger than others."

She was unsure what she was doing, but she couldn't stop. Her lips were tight, and her eyes saw red. Her breathing was heavy and her hands clenched into fists. She couldn't handle this man, or any more that matter, any longer... not tonight at least. She paused a moment, debating whether to turn heel and leave or await a reply.

A grin almost made its way to Sargoth's face as the woman began to show anger. He was not expecting her to lean toward outburst, but as she leaned over the table, her elbows locked, it seemed what she truly wanted to do. Interesting indeed, he was curious of her reaction and he had not been dissapointed. He was less than surprised that she was not a trader, probably far from it given her particularly practiced glare and inflections. So, she did not want gold. He saw that look in her eyes as she held the mark, she had to practice her lying. Perhaps final proof that she was not in the art of selling. She spoke of humility, what a funny concept to be used in the situation. Perhaps the events of the evening had been skewed in her mind. She was on the verge of leaving, most likely, so he felt it just as well to set events straight. Maybe he would keep her interest a little longer. Following her actions, Sargoth stood slowly from his chair and leaned forward so that the distance between the two was cut down considerably. Staring into her eyes, he made his first rebuttle.

"You are not a trader, that much is sure. I question your perception of me as you discuss humility. I thank you for complimenting my intelligence, but one point must be clarified." Unexpectedly, Sargoth's right hand rose from the wooden table and reached forward, allowing him to rest his fingers under the woman's chin and slightly on her left cheek. "For someone who wishes to judge others, you have forgotten that I never told you I wished to engage in a trade with you to begin with. It was by your own insistence that we began, so I would suggest you save your morals for a time when you do not initiate the problem."

His fingers brushed her cheek slowly while he maintained his gaze on her eyes. He was looking past them, guessing at the possibilities that might result from his last statement.

Phedre, still leaning foreward on the table, felt a heat rushing through her viens. If her cheeks could turn red they would be now. Her eyes were solid and harshy could and her heart was a rapid thud in her ears matching the raging beat she felt in her chest. She listened to the reply the man had, and only grew more and more angry. Her lips were drawn in a straight line and her hands gripped the edge of the table, white knuckled. It came to a point where she had to inhale deeply to breathe through the constriction in her chest. She got herself somewhat undercontrol before she replied. "I've said it once, and I'll say it again, you're right, I'm not a trader. But that's about the only thing you're right about."

When he touched her face she flinched, when was the last time she had been touched? Even the men she traded with kept there distance in an eerie lust. She fought the urge to push his hand away and instead continued to reply angrilly at him. "My judging you has nothing to do with my trade. The judgement is past on your reaction or actions regarding my presance and convorsation had. Whether I am skilled at trade or skilled and stabbing people through the heart," she paused and deeply inhaled, "it doesn't change the person you are. I came here with an excuse of coin, surly that would have picked up by someone of your seeming intelligence," She looked into his face with solid gold eyes, "or maybe that assumption on my part was wrong. Perhaps you aren't as intelligent as you can pass yourself as." She pushed his hand away from her, finally, and straightened to stand straight infront of him. Her hands were grippedin fists at her sides, "I do believe my coming here did not initiate any problem. It may have been the start of the setting, but you, Sir, chose to make it a problem. You are the catalyst behind this outcome. Place the blame only on yourself."

Again she hesitated to leave. Was it something in his eyes that held her there? She couldn't say but her feet remained planted none the less.

"Yes, I suppose it is only my own self that is to blame," he said with a monotone reply, slowly retracting his hand back to the table after the woman had pushed it away. She had a strong spirit. "I sat down within the confines of this chair behind this table; that was the first pull at the chains of fate. You came to my side while I thought, and at your own proclamation, I was supposedly ready to make a trade. At the first hint that the trade might not be substantial enough for my tastes, I am suddenly no longer a humble man. I believe that I am entirely to blame and I apologize."

His voice held an undercurrent of sarcasm, but nothing particularly direct. His gaze fixed on her eyes as he spoke, his mouth barely moving but the words pouring out like tidal waves. He felt the need to review the conversation in order to settle matters immediately. Unsure what had turned the woman to a sour mood, he was curious if the events would be more acceptable now that he had spent the time to restate the main points. At the same time, he was growing slightly weary of the argument. He was less entertained by bickering, tempting him to add a few elements of the spectacular to try and invoke a more amusing response. Thinking of her words and her actions, he made a decision. One not only of his own reaction to the situation but also to what he might do to keep himself occupied.

Leaning forward in his seat, his face seemed to glow as the room faded to darkness. "If you insist that a problem exists, woman, then let me be the one to remedy it as well."

The room seemed to swirl into darkness as all of the light was pulled off the walls like water dripping off of the bottom of a plank. It all pulled inward into Sargoth as he was suddenly standing in front of Phedre. The glow faded but both figures were still visible as if it were the middle of the day. Within moments, the light returned in the form of a glimmering pile of gold coins, seperating the two by a mound of riches.

"Shall this suffice?"