( The battle may have ended, but Loki knows better than most that the wheel of war never truly stops turning until it's broken. Letting himself fall behind is out of the question: his alchemical supplies are significantly depleted in the aftermath of the most recent conflict, and Kyst remains the best place to find Fellden's more open minded stockists. Some of the ingredients he requires are best sold under the counter as opposed to over it, and he's always been one to make the most of post-war chaos.
Fortunately for Kyst's merchants, the markets seem to have remained as lively as they were before the fighting. Having procured the majority of what he came for Loki is now taking a stroll for please; he wants some new robes made in the his faction's colours—deep purples and pinks—for when he's required to show up at Court in an official manner, and he's particular enough about this sort of thing that he'd rather commission his own from the fabric up. He approaches a stall overflowing with bright bolts of fabric dressed in throat to floor black robes, just in time to catch the tail-end of a conversation:
Is it my faction, gender or glaring sense of newness that's the issue here?
Loki's glances between the red-head and the merchant, the tail-end of an eyebrow lifting a little way as he levels the man with an amused smile. )
Well?
( He makes a vague gesture towards Pepper. Honestly, Loki can't help but get himself involved when he can sense a wrinkle of discord, especially if there's the potential to somehow turn it to his advantage down the line. Intimidated merchants are more likely to offer discounts, after all. )
I'd say that's perfectly reasonable question, all things considered. It'd be a shame for word to get out that you're charging unfair prices to Otherworlders drafted in to fight for you.
( Pepper may hate cheaters—and unbeknownst to Loki, hate this cheater in particular—but a little mischief can go a long way. )
II • B
( The battle may have ended, but Loki knows better than most that the wheel of war never truly stops turning until it's broken. Letting himself fall behind is out of the question: his alchemical supplies are significantly depleted in the aftermath of the most recent conflict, and Kyst remains the best place to find Fellden's more open minded stockists. Some of the ingredients he requires are best sold under the counter as opposed to over it, and he's always been one to make the most of post-war chaos.
Fortunately for Kyst's merchants, the markets seem to have remained as lively as they were before the fighting. Having procured the majority of what he came for Loki is now taking a stroll for please; he wants some new robes made in the his faction's colours—deep purples and pinks—for when he's required to show up at Court in an official manner, and he's particular enough about this sort of thing that he'd rather commission his own from the fabric up. He approaches a stall overflowing with bright bolts of fabric dressed in throat to floor black robes, just in time to catch the tail-end of a conversation:
Is it my faction, gender or glaring sense of newness that's the issue here?
Loki's glances between the red-head and the merchant, the tail-end of an eyebrow lifting a little way as he levels the man with an amused smile. )
Well?
( He makes a vague gesture towards Pepper. Honestly, Loki can't help but get himself involved when he can sense a wrinkle of discord, especially if there's the potential to somehow turn it to his advantage down the line. Intimidated merchants are more likely to offer discounts, after all. )
I'd say that's perfectly reasonable question, all things considered. It'd be a shame for word to get out that you're charging unfair prices to Otherworlders drafted in to fight for you.
( Pepper may hate cheaters—and unbeknownst to Loki, hate this cheater in particular—but a little mischief can go a long way. )