[PRP] Should You Choose to Accept It (Aishe & Sh'valt)

[Celeanor]

Sh'valt had been enjoying his day off. Or rather, he'd been enjoying pretending that he had a day off - because Bru was very quickly reminding him that there was a to-do list. Among other things.

Like receiving a rather formal summons from his benefactor - and unofficial 'auntie.'

He'd climbed to his feet quickly enough when Bru relayed the call, and was in Aishe and Rhianth's vicinity within a few minutes. Seeing Aishe pacing like that raised a hair of alarm, however, given her condition. All jokes and procrastination aside, he was a healer, and she'd done more than enough to earn his loyalty and respect.

"Ladies first, auntie." He replied cheerfully, gesturing with his typical nonchalance for her to be seated before him. Until she told him the world was ending, he was unlikely to moderate his tone even in the face of her unusual commanding tone, but he was noting her gait and manner. Seemed ok, healthwise? Something else, then? Something serious.

"What's wrong, Boss?" He asked, tone the same but a more serious look darkening his eyes.

As for Brulixianth, his response to Rhianth was a simple huff. Only women?  

[Celeanor]

It was perhaps to Aishe's benefit that Sh'valt hadn't mastered the art of aligning himself with unborn children, or he certainly would have found more than a few ways to cause all sorts of mischief for the goldrider.

As it was, he simply smiled benignly and took a seat once she had arranged herself. He did tilt his head a little at the word 'mission.' Usually Aishe knew better than to saddle him with anything official. Or important. Particularly important official things. Like missions. He was good at 'honey do' lists and unofficial 'this would be nice if' lists. Not 'this is important' lists.

Right, he was stressing himself out just thinking about what it could be.

"A mission?" If his voice wavered a little with uncertainty, hopefully she wouldn't notice. He'd be mortified if she did.

Courtesans. Bru interjected helpfully, as if that simple utterance would make him feel better. What? What about courtesans? Why....-?

Rhianth's will explain.  

[Celeanor]

The blood drained from the young bronzerider's face in the time it took her to finishing saying 'buyer.' She wanted him to do WHAT? How was this not intense?!

Honing in on his rider's acute distress while the red-headed healer simply sat and stared at the goldrider, Brulixianth huffed assuredly. Do not be a ninny.

A ninny? Where did you get that from? Who taught you that word? The thoughts fairly exploded from him, temporarily lifting his paralysis long enough to mouth the word 'What?' before he slammed his jaw shut with a audible snap.

Rhianth. The shoe fits.

"What shoe---shaffitall. Aishe, that's low. Using your husband like that." Somehow, his brain had caught up enough to register that she was guilt tripping him. She was literally ready to give birth any day, she clearly needed this done, and he'd rather eat his riding helmet than get between C'rian and the birth of his child or Aishe and the company of her beloved mate.

"... can I ask why you are ...." He struggled to put the thought to speech, given the vile nature of human trafficking. "...purchasing them?" His disgust was clear enough, though not at her. Surely there was a reason for this.  

[Celeanor]

"Well if you'd said that part first." He started, realizing far too late that his hands were shaking. Shaffit, what had he been thinking? Rhianth's admonishment only further served to cement his guilt at misinterpreting.

Then....

"Zheria? We're working with the High Reaches?" It was really just a question, but he had good reason to be wary of the Weyrs. "Am I bringing them here or to her?" he continued, the less panicked part of his brain finally catching up and taking hold. The familiar jolt of fear remained, but he could work around it.

"Did you want me to get names, places, etc of the dealers too? How deep into the network should I go?" He went on, leaning forward a little as more questions piled up behind the first.  

[Celeanor]

He sat back, mulling over the details in his mind.

Overall, yes, this was doable. Distasteful on the surface, and likely to become more so depending on what sort of black market dealers he would have to connect with. The sort of 'merchandise' he'd be looking for certainly wouldn't be sitting out on the street, it was illegal, and he'd have to be careul. Shaff this was nasty business.

He frowned slightly then, remembering his one and only experience with a fully trained and credentialed courtesan - the woman had scared the ever living daylights out of him. But more than that, she'd been ... a decent person. Perhaps he wouldn't have to delve into the dark recesses of society to help out. If he was understanding Aishe correctly, he had free rein to conduct this mission as he saw fit - so long as he was pulling at-risk younglings out of the proverbial fire and bringing them to her. There had to be others in the business doing the same... if he found those people...?

"Do you have any contacts? Anyone else already with a foot in the door who I can trust?" He asked, carefully. He had an inkling she also wanted him to go and 'have fun' in more adult ways with the highly paid and cheerfully employed adult members of the courtesan crafthall, but he'd rather avoid that. No use telling Aishe he was on to her ploy, though, or she'd recruit Rhianth ... and Rhianth would recruit Bru.

Wisely, Bru remained silent. It wouldn't do for his rider to guess that he'd already been 'recruited.' He would make sure his rider was the best in all things, including this. Rhianth would not have a reason to call him a 'ninny' ever again!  

[Celeanor]

"Be myself and don't give too much away? Honestly auntie." He managed a slight smile, and leaned back. "That's a tall order."

So there were contacts, dangerous ones. Big time big wigs, high stakes high rollers... he could go on. He probably shouldn't go on. Dwelling on how horribly he could mess things up wasn't going to help him avoid messing things up.

"But alright. Count me in. When do you want me there?"  

[Celeanor]

He stood as well, following her movement with his standard fluid grace. His mind awhirl with what he would need, who he should tell (no one, as it happened) and what under Rukbat he should even wear on this little jaunt. He had a sneaking suspicion his usual leathers would be met with wariness, if not outright hostility given how rarely riders took part in ... questionable ventures. It'd probably be in his best interests to hide his dragon and craft a believable fiction to steady his story as a buyer.

"Thanks Aishe." He said quietly, stretching. "Is there anything else I can do for you while I'm there?" He added, thinking of some of the lovely textiles that came out of Western from time to time.