[B]aking [Br]ead

Deep below the rather unassuming island town of Mathiisen, Auridon, a pot-bellied Argonian lounged lazily in a thick wooden chair across a table from his altmer guest. Before the argonian, an open book next to a small pile of others fumed with the scent of fresh ink, next to the skinned head of another Argonian, seemingly perfectly preserved by what must have been some Restoration enchantment. Before Ask-For-Second's elven guest, was an elaborate skooma water pipe and a plate of cookies shaped and decorated to look like birds.

The altmer smiled a rather stupid smile, and giggled into the sleeves of her robe. "Your friend doesn't say much, chef, perhaps he lacks a knowing tongue? The high tongue? Our perfect crystalline tongue? Oh how it waves! Liquid crystal, can you imagine? Oh! I don't have to- do I?" she giggled more as she brought the fine hose of the pipe to her ochre-painted lips.

Asks-For-Seconds twitched a grin to the sides of his long mouth, watching the blue plumes of smoke frame his guest. He scribbled a note regarding the altmer's hallucinating of he himself being percieved as one of her own, and set his inked feather in the well with a perk of his scaled brow. Into his hands he lifted and held the skinless head, holding it to face him in some morbid exchange of stares, though there was little to read from it's clouded, dull eyes. "Oh he could speak well if he really wanted to." Asks-For-Seconds pushed his thumbs into particular indention in the head's jaws, and watched the maw part in reaction as he studied the sleight changes in muscular tension. "Similar to a serpent's skull in a way ya know, archein Argonians can almost unhook their jaws, but not quite. The two parts of the lower jaw slide along boney grooves - though rather than for eating, it helps in manipulating the snout better for speech."

The altmer woman let out a dramatic groan. "Oh my dear, please save it for the Mage's Guild, I've already had my head spin around three, four times since my last visit? You know, when the mudcrab had that lecture on Ayleid dance ritual? He did move well for a mudcrab though, and so well spoken! But," she paused to take another draw from the pipe. "Who in this plane would ever care to hear what an -Argonian- would have to say, what with such well spoken, educated crustaceans about!" She paused, and let out a burst of laughter, nearly falling out of her chair before catching herself at the edge of the table. Her whole body sighed happily with her as she rested her head on languid arms by the plate of cookies. "May I have one now, father? I wont tell sister, I promise...!"

Asks-For-Seconds put the severed head of his unfortunate egg-brother back on its little stand on the table, and scribbled more into his notes. "Very well, but just one."

'Altmer Subject's inhalation-consumption of the batch containing "Blue Ingredient" responding well in prolonged interaction. Signs of delirium matched with cohesive speech suggests that an acceptable balance of purity and toxicity has been reached. Reproduction shall begin in marketable quantities, though I shall remove my contribution of racial-specific euphoria-enhancers until Ri'Sari is more forthcoming with details of "Blue Ingredient" '

"Oh by Au'Riel this is- However do you spice these wonderful things?" the altmer exclaimed with the cookie broken in her mouth, her eyes glazed and wide, crumbs flying from her otherwise perfect mermouth.

"Oh just some herbs from my home River..." Asks-For-Seconds took a fluted glass in hand, and raised it to the flayed argonian head on the table, staring at it while he took a long sip. "I understand Ri'sari's hesitance of trust - why would he have reason to, yes? It is only a frustrating thing is all. And to think, I am not to even try to discern its nature through experimentation - as if that sly cat could tell if I had or hadn't already... Okay, so I have not. I know it is slightly acidic,.. but what is not?"

The severed head, of course, did not respond.

With a sigh, the cook looked across the table. "And what do you think?"

The altmer woman, now sprawled on the floor with wide eyes and an equally wide, drooling, crumb-crusted mouth, also said very little, herself quite busy in a subconscious attempt to preserve what energy her blood could hold onto after the toxins in the cookie stopped her heart.

"Oh, yes, of course." Asks-For-Seconds scribbled further.

'Altmer subject terminated after successful product testing. Must take signet ring and sample of skin that displays tattooed Veiled Heritance affiliation to the Aldmeri Guard for bounty. Pick up more Guar Eggs while in town.'

Moons later, Asks-For-Seconds listened to the creaking wood about him as powerful coastal winds pressed upon the structure of this altmerian house he awaited in. His jaw chattered a bit, entertaining thoughts of lounging in the rain after many hours of cooking, but alas, there was, of course, more to be done, and Khajiiti only seemed to do business in dry conditions.

Moon-sugar. The thick rocky crystals seemed to be the only thing on his mind these days, even during his favored pastime of Restoration studies with his victims, his professional attention now wondered how they would all react to the stuff, that is, after refinement and fermentation. He had to have a certain respect for it, he would admit inwardly. To take a simple sweetener, and mix it's extracted properties with something as volatile as nightshade to make a recreational treat was just up his River.

"It's funny, yes?" He said to his disembodied companion, whom, out of politeness, was carefully stored in a rather unassuming wooden box against the back wall of the dining room. "I never met a cat that would risk staining his fur in the name of alchemy, but they master this narcotic like they run the Mage's. It starts in the kitchen they say."

The box said nothing.

"Well, at least they're easy to cook for." He looked at the table, full of various stews and fondues and macaroons all lightly laced with the sugar, with tiny pockets of the crystals left uncrushed for his associates to enjoy popping into with their pointed teeth. There was sand-pear wine and cups of fresh rainwater that were given a nice little fizz with some home-made capsules of nirnroot and magnesium.

And so he waited, having sent word to the Company that his first small batch was made, and that larger quantities were hidden away in fermentation. He did not know who exactly would show up, but he knew enough of Ri'sari's gang of legitimate businessjiiti to know that business must be discussed.

"And here, egg-brother, we will see exactly how much trouble we've gotten ourselves into."

The box said nothing.

If she had known that accepting a position in Ri'sari's company would mean trekking through the woods at all odd hours to make a meeting on the other side of Auridon, she might have reconsidered the decision. Especially when she was given last-minute notice, and therefore was denied the opportunity to stop and collect the plants and rare ingredients she only ever seemed to pass when she was in a hurry.

The Khajiit had been riding through the night to make this rendezvous, stressing Ja'aran well beyond his limits as a steed and making her tail quite sore: she would be resistant to getting in the saddle for quite some time after this. She had needed to give him a break before he killed over, and so she left him to rest in a clearing not far from the meeting place with his sides heaving and froth around his nostrils, and a Mudcrab picking at the grass around his feet. She would be quite lucky if the creature didn't have a heart attack: she really should not have pushed him so hard, but when the head of your Association gives an order...
You have little choice but to follow, unless you want to find yourself out in the streets again.

She spent the last mile of the trek creeping along the ground in a crouch, furred ears perked and twitching at every sound and rustle in the bushes. She couldn't risk getting caught up in a fight with a pack of wolves, or some ticked off bear. Or the pesky little flying rats that liked to throw fire and lightning at her.
One day, she would gather some allies, and go on a mass extermination of those damnable little critters. They were surely an accident that needed to be purged from Nirni.

The winds were picking up, the scent of a storm in the air, and it made Jo'kyrr shiver as she crept up to the Aldmeri house that was the designated meeting place for their newest chef. The winds here seemed to blow right through her fur, and they caught the voice inside the house, breaking up the speech and tossing the words around into a jumble that even she could not understand. Still, it sounded as if the Argonian was by himself, and a quick glance through a crack in the wall told her that her ears were not deceiving her: Asks-for-Seconds was alone, and speaking to himself.

Clawed fingers found the latch for the door, and nimbly unlocked it before she pushed her way inside, shaking her head a bit in an attempt to settle her fur back into a somewhat presentable fashion. She pulled the door shut behind her, poison-green eyes scanning the room as she straightened her travel-dirtied leathers.

"Do you always hold such interesting conversations with yourself, this one cannot help but wonder." She mused in a rough voice as she returned her attention to the scaled figure sitting at the head of a table laden with foods that made her whiskers twitch. She offered a very small bow, one hand crossing over her midsection as she inclined towards the Argnonian in a gesture that was a greeting... and a display of the frost-enchanted bow slung across her back.
A silent warning that betrayal would not be wise.

"Ri'sari sends his greetings, and his apologies that he could not attend you himself. I am afraid you must content yourself to deal with sweet Jo'kyrr." She continues, and the more she speaks, the more evident it becomes that her accent is not from Elseweyr. She speaks in the Khajiiti lilt with a Cyrodilic accent, and the nuances of the Khajiit's speech have been learned second-hand.
It is a charade, but it a remarkably good one.
She has worked very hard to fit in.

"This one will sit now." She added, gray-furred paw pulling the chair across from the Argonian back from the table, and she stepped nimbly around it to slip against the wood, her tail tucked to one side and her hands resting neatly in her lap.
Chairs had not been designed with the Beast-folk of Tamriel in mind.

When Jo'kyrr had made her entrance, particularly at the sound of the winds sharpening as the perfectly carved altmer door was pushed open without a creak, Asks-For-Seconds' thick fingers slid to grasp the pommel of a sleek orichalcum dinner knife. The light of the fire showed him the reflective sheen in those verdant eyes, and his private calculating thoughts began swimming in the river of his more baser instincts.

Humanoid, Khajiit, female...

There was a slight surprise in his expression when she spoke and revealed that she had overheard him, however it may have been difficult to tell with Argonian faces (as much as the trick of her accent was lost on him), and quickly his snout tightened to reveal a row of many sharp teeth that twisted at the sides to seem of a smile of sorts.

Thirty seven runes in height, lithe build, possibly 'suthe-rhat' - susceptible to xathosi root and dreadmire lichen, weak necks...

Then he saw the bow when she bowed. For a brief moment, he was excited. The weapon she carried gave him a minute thrill of hunting something dangerous, something that should this be a hostile encounter, he would not know which of the two would return to Sithis' River. The fat Argonian always loved the unknown. These primal sparks began to quickly fizzle, however, when she mentioned Ri'sari and her identity as one of his associates. After she seated herself, Asks-For-Seconds took the knife and began to cut a small meat pie. He sighed, but it rolled into a guttural chuckle. "Well that is the nature of fast business I suppose. Welcome Jo'kyrr, are you hungry? Part of my contract entails keeping Ri'sari's people well fed."

An associate, an ally, ... Must not serve her the glazed tarts. Must ensure she tries the pudding within an hour if she ingests the fondue...

He did not wait for an answer, and Jo'kyrr would find her plate soon full of portions of a number of delectable things, secretly selected with great intention by Asks-For-Seconds as to allow her to enjoy what she ate without too many toxins from his marsh herbs within them. "So how much did our mutual friend tell you about this meeting, hm? Ri'sari does not seem the type to send someone on fools errands, at least, not for this sort of thing." He gestured to some papers on a nearby end-table. "I have his shipments as I am sure he expected. The ingredients worked fine, even the unknown bits he gave me for your signature product were not too difficult with the information I gathered." He shrugged. "That's old, paid-for business, and you can have your thicker ones collect at the dead drop we worked out." His vermillion eyes met hers, his pupil sharpening a bit. "What I had sent for, was to discuss my distaste in small wares. When I had spoken to Ja'Kasim, I was given what must have been an illusion of a larger operation." Those same eyes ticked to her bow and back to her.

An archer... likely quick, difficult to overwhelm, could draw a drain spell onto that small neck...

A smile remained on his face, a bit devilish but not overtly threatening in his tone. "I do not care for illusions, Jo'kyrr, no matter how prideful you Khajiit are about your clever deceptions." Another chuckle. "I came to this island to do my research away from the Dunmer. It turns out the Thalmor are even more observant than those ash-cooked slavers, which proves very expensive for me, and so I need to know-" He leaned forward a bit, tilting his head to the side a bit to get a good stare with a reptilian eye. "Am I seeing just illusions, or can this company push what I have in the makings? Despite the lack of nightshade and sugar supplied to me, I have much more of your Blue fermenting in a number of places that I wish to show you, and make us all wealthier than we were before, but before I can do that, before I can swim in this River with you, I am going to need your confidence that I can receive supplies on a grander scale. Otherwise, I will have to find a more ready operation. Even the Thalmor would pay very well to have this product in their hands, out of yours. I cannot tell you how easy it would be to convince them that an Argonian had nothing to do in making the stuff; they're almost as bad as the elves in the east with their preconceptions."

He stuffed one of the glazed tarts into his maw when he finished, his eyes fluttering back a bit as he relished in the xathosi root he infused them with. A hand had slid the plate of them out of the Khajiit's reach.

"This is no threat of course; you will have what you have paid for." tiny toxic crumbs rocketed from his maw as he spoke with the tart in his mouth. "This, is an opportunity, if your people can handle it."

((my god you two, awesome read!))

((*swoon* Oh, the writing. The long posts. So very, very good.))

Her jaws parted slightly, just enough that she could breathe in through her mouth and make use of the extra scent glands within. She breathed in deeply, scenting the air: she could smell the leathery scent of Argonian skin, and she could smell... preservatives? Almost as if there were something embalmed in the room. She could see nothing suspect however, and put those observations to the side:
her concern was the fare spread out upon the wooden table before her, and it was with a mild consternation that she realized she recognized none of the herbs used in the portents.

Jo'kyrr considered this while Asks-for-Seconds carefully selected portions of his works to set on her plate, and considered her options as well.

Ri'sari knows where I am, and who I am with. It would be foolish to poison me-- and this Argonian is no fool. That is obvious.

Viridian eyes watched every motion that the other made, relaxed but alert as he cut into the meat pie and continued to make his selections. “Khajiit apologizes for accepting, but yes. This one had not time to stop for the breaking of any fast.” She explained easily, having made her calculations and decided that offending potential allies was just as dangerous as ingesting any toxin that might be contained within the repast.
Perhaps moreso: alchemists made antidotes for poisons.
There was no remedy for offense.

“He told her enough.” She replied, settling back against the smooth wood of the chair and listening patiently as the Argonian laid out what could only be termed as his ultimatum. She resisted the urge to smile wider and forced herself to remain still: they had hoped that the Argonian would offer such an opportunity. He was smarter than even Ri'sari had assumed, and that Khajiit was not one to underestimate either his opponents or his allies. This...
would be quite the entertaining dance for them.

There was a purr rising in her chest, nothing more than a low vibration that was barely felt, however it sounded in her voice as she answered Asks-for-Seconds' subtle threats-- even as he denied them being meant in such a manner, the Khajiit knew better.
And knew that if Ri'sari deemed the Argonian a liability, there would be no ocean deep enough for the water-breather to hide within.

“Ja'Khajiit must learn to swim before he dives into deeper waters, friend. He newly birthed, just barely from the womb, and not yet ready for such exciting maneuvers...” She began to explain, but there was a subtle excitement to her words, a low vibration that had more than just to do with the purring she could not suppress. “Ja'Khajiit grows strong quickly. Soon, he will be ready for deep diving and the rough currents scale-skins dream about, if patience can be had while ja'Khajiit learns to sharpen his claws, testing them against soft wood.”

She selected a small morsel of some sweet treat from the plate the Argonian had filled, holding it delicately between her claws so as to avoid getting her fur sticking, and she set the morsel between her teeth gently. She let the silence pervade as she chewed, swallowed, and then casually rasped her rough tongue across the pads of her fingers and over the sharp curve of untrimmed claws.

“If Asks-for-Seconds wishes to swim in clear waters, there is a place this one would recommend he seek out. It is quite beautiful; Jo'kyrr often finds herself basking there. He might find something of interest if he wishes: many treasures can be found in such places. Have you seen the Lady? She is quite lovely; this one recommends the trip.” She spoke idly, with little concern as she alternatively selected tiny bites from her plate, and cleaned her fingers between each bite.

She shifted, and from the depths of her pockets procured a dark blue crushed velvet satchel. It jingled softly with the clink of coin, as she set it on the table between them.

“For your silence, and for your further patronage.”