[Vignette] Eavesdown Encounter

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Eavesdown Docks, Persephone
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It's evening at the Eavesdown Docks, the sun rolling back over the sky, preparing to dip below the horizon. The slantways rays from the sun create blind spots and long shadows as the crowds move about. The business is somewhat slowed from midday, many propietors having gone home, but there's still plenty of activity to be had. One man, stands as an island amid the streams of people, two wooden crates forming a perch from which he sits, as well as a duffel bag and a hinged black case with an hourglass shape and then a long, straight section. He wears a simple pair of round sunglasses, silvery which mostly reflect whatever it is he looks at.



Saienne steps down onto Eavesdown from a hill that winds up into the heart of the city. She stands for a moment, poised before the somewhat diminished crowd, until she plunges into the middle of it, charting an indirect course around clusters of people. She is wearing a long coat, scruffy at the hems but warm-looking, and has one hand thrust deep into her pocket. The other hand is up at her jaw, rubbing at it. Her hat, which has a broad and floppy brim, has a pheasant feather tucked into the band. It bobs and ducks jauntily with every step she takes. As she nears the crates where Anatoli is perched, she glances upwards at him. The reflection she receives in his sunglasses is of a slightly wary, slightly wild looking woman.


Anatoli lets the slight breeze wash around him just like the people below, looking down to his hourglass shaped box and gripping it with his left hand to ensure it is actually there. When he looks back towards the people he sees Saienne making her way through the crowd. He gives her a nod as she seems to slow or stop in front of him. "Dobryj vecher and good ev-a-ning to you." He remarks in a deep baritone with the thick accent of the Earth-that-was land of Russia.


"Evenin'," replies Saienne, cordially - and at once she frowns and touches at her jaw gingerly. "Good gorram." she mutters, a little darkly. She squints up at the gentleman with the accent. Her eyes are shadowed entirely by the brim of her hat, but she's scrutinising him curiously nonetheless. "You waitin' on someone?" she asks, a little bluntly, as she comes to a full stop in front of the crates. Her voice is muffled somewhat, words half-swallowed before they even make it out into the open air.


Anatoli lowers and raises his head slowly in a nod. "You could say that." He says flatly, his left hand adjusting his glasses to ensure they don't slip off and fall to the dirt of Eavesdown. "And yourself?" He asks with a seeming curious tone of his own. His left hand continues to grip the hinged box at his side as if it were valued highly.


Saienne glances back across the dock to the city, taking her eyes of Anatoli to scan the far street that she originally came down. As she swings her head, the tip of the pheasant feather describes an elegant arc in the air. "Just makin' good my gorram escape," she mutters. Her head swings round, then, and her hidden gaze turns towards a gleaming silver ship docked not far from where they are. "Makin' my way home," she says, more loudly. There is a pause, and she looks back at the man. A lop-sided smile begins to form, but Saienne quickly aborts the expression with a hearfelt curse. She takes a moment to recover, and then adds: "I was just askin' in case you were waitin' on one of us, is all."