Bussines is Bussines I 'uppose.

[Dionysus]

( hello, your local wine merchant is making his rounds again.)
When it really came down to it, Matt really wished with all of his might that the next place that he was selling his wares to didn’t exist.  There was no amount of sane notion to convince him otherwise, but here he was deciding between moral restraint and madness.  In the mist covered plains, he could see the haunting white and red striped circus tent, the place was filthy and covered in human interaction, god he hated this place.  What he called the madhouse, it was correctly named the berserkers.  What he called the places of where humanity’s worst people belonged in one place,  hell even the devil himself would have found a home amongst these hellions and freaks.  In a place like this, his bat was clearly needed since people here were always looking for a drink, and he always found himself walking towards where there was enough light, and away from any signs of smoke, filth and whatever disgusting other practices that people partook here.

The amount of his wears was double than San Creado, since not that many people drank there.  But here, a good fight always ended up with a drink, ranging from the strongest to the most potent, and he wasn’t surprised that is his wine was a prized possession to come across.  The demi human shook his head, and sighed rolling his shoulders as he did so still making his trek into the criminal invested area that was the berserkers.  There was something disgusting and trivial and insane about this place, something just wrong.

[tequila]

Tequila isn't quite so acquainted with merchants, he's never even shopped before - always relying on others to find resources for them, using his blindness to make others immediately offer to help him with such 'miserable' needs. He's known merchants and all kinds of numskull traders to come around every so often but they're usually around to sell items such as accessories, food or other aesthetic wears. All things that Tequila found quite useless or unappealing. This time, however, the sightless boy notices the sweet smell of alcohol, seemingly possessed by the allure of the wafting scent that he begins to walk. He reminds himself of a fish, drawn to bait to be pulled out of water, splutter and die. Maybe, he thinks, he's just feeling paranoid...or excited even. He's never once felt any interest in trading, never once paid much attention to the merchants who came by. Unless they themselves were naive and planned to stay and watch their shows, Tequila was increasingly dispassionate about their affairs and business. They were selfish people to him, riding on the wild (and well deserved if he is honest) rumours of The Berserkers and assuming them to be crazy or deprived enough to take just about anything.

He sighs, running his fingers through his hair as he approaches the man waiting about. He senses a...displeasure upon his face, though unable to make out the exact details of the wrinkles which lined the man's skin through his echolocation. He supposes he is just assuming by now that the man is only here for business in the same way Tequila was only here for a bottle of wine. "A handsome face approaches our borders," the boy smiles in greeting with a nonchalant wave of his hand, keeping superior detachment to the stranger. He is usually friendly, but only God knew what truly lurked in the ghostly boy's mind: a disgustingly critical judgement of everyone and everything. "Jean-Jacques. It's a pleasure to meet you, sir. I'm mainly known as Tequila around these parts so I'd prefer we kept at that basis." If his eyes hadn't been covered by his bandages and overgrown fringe, Matt might have caught the cheeky squint of his eyes glistening towards him in an almost malicious manner. "Is that wine I smell?"

[Dionysus]

Some would take to the offense when it comes to the rumors about the berserkers, but the rumors were slowly becoming the truth, no one who travelled alone or in groups they tried to steer clear of the place.  Like those stories about demented clowns who try to do anything to make children happy under any circumstances, but mostly results in murder and other horrible things.  Matt had heard those snippets of rumors and such, although he never really listen to them just he knew about them, and as of right now they were starting to become true.

As if from the mist, someone walked over mostly drawn by the scent of wine.  Now he didn’t know if his wine was that addictive or had such a powerful scent, he was pretty sure he corked them shut so nothing would splash out or swish out you know because it would become very, very sticky when dried.  From what he understood, humans couldn’t scent the wine out, but if you were non human or had powers just maybe. 

Again with the names, there was no way in hell he was going to remember Tequila’s name, his actual and his given nickname.  The demi human nodded, time to take notice of the features of everyone.  That was what he does, just take in the features saves him remembering names.  From what he could see the lad, er lad right?  Gods, he didn’t want to assume anyone’s gender, the kid was blind.  Now how he figured that out, was from really paying some attention to Tequila's facial features, as someone would do when meeting somebody new.  He could see that the kid wore bandages of where his eyes were.    Even the words that he had spoken, there was a false sense in them, like there was a bit of half truth in them, but again Matt was just assuming.

“ No it’s cordial.” he slightly snarked, it was probably because he was exhausted hauling this crate of wine with him everywhere.  He didn’t have a horse or any pack animal to help lighten the load,  so the best bet is that he walked.  He should really invest of getting a horse or a mule. 

The question is where was he going to get an animal? A horse or a mule required work and maintenance to make sure they were happy and well taken care off, Matt didn’t exactly feel like taken care of a animal, even when he lived in wooded parts of San Creado.  That would require a stable  and open space, again too much work.  But he was up for it as mentioned before.

[miss ririchiyo]

♡ — TAKE ME TO CHURCH, WORSHIP ME LIKE A GOD.
Cleo was blessed by the sun god, lips tainted a soft cherry red normally, but today, she wore black lipstick, her long black hair cascading down her shoulders as she succubus moved through the circus tents. Sure, she could say that she winked at a few people, but she had a lover. One that was quite powerful, in her opinion. He was worthy of her attention, of her loyalty. He gave her the food she needed to survive, and that's all she needed to be loyal to the Belial heir.

When Cleo lifted her nose into the air to sniff, she could detect the faint smell of wine on the wind, smirking proudly. She'd get herself some wine and bring it back to the gypsy's tent. The girls could drink with her. Maybe she could even invite Maverick into the tent for some drinking? That'd be.. Interesting.

When Cleopatra arrived at the scene, a soft snicker left her lips when Tequila called the guy 'handsome'. She had figured it out, after a while of watching the boy, that he was blind. The blessing the kid had was the ability to detect vibrations in the ground.

"Yes, he is quite handsome." Cleo confirmed for the boy, coming to gently tap her long-nailed finger against the younger boy's back, in between his shoulder blades. Golden eyes watched the distribution of words between the two with interest before she giggled again. Lord, this guy had some spunk. Sarcasm and balls. With a slightly curious, but cheerful smile, Cleo introduced herself to the man. "My name is Cleopatra. Call me Cleo. I'll buy three bottles off of you." She chimed out, her tone sing-song but still holding that flirtatious edge. She held out a bag of gold coins, her head tilting to the side. She didn't know how currency worked here, but she'd figure it out.

[align=center]

tags :: updated 8/20:

basics.
✯ cleopatra omnium // cleo.
✯ female // she/her
✯ 23 years // mentally varies // spiritually old
✯ member of the berserkers
✯ no titles // no unofficial titles
✯ reincarnated from cleopatra, the egyptian empress.

appearance.
✯ succubus [ref]
✯ In her normal, human-like form, Cleo has deeply tanned skin, an hour glass figure, a flat stomach, and curvy hips. Her hair is long, straight, and black, reaching her hips in length. She has deep, rich amber eyes, nearly golden in color. She has a beauty mark under her left eye.
✯ accessories - Sports her thorned whip on her side, as well as her daggers.
✯ scars/marks/tattoos - She has tattoos going up her right thigh and across her arms. Her ears are pierced normally. She has a scar across her back of three claw marks.
✯ accent - Elegant, airy voice. Egyptian.

relationships.
✯ best friend
✯ mentor/apprentice
✯ [G1] npc x npc
✯ sibling of nobody.
✯ hyperpansexual // panromantic
✯ taken // in love with luciano belial
✯ no offspring

interaction.
✯ storage // plot
✯ physically hard // mentally hard // no powers
✯ attack in underline

[tequila]

Tequila has a good nose. Sometimes, on a good day, the boy was able to detect the traces of what someone had only just eaten - the very crust of bread once on their hands. The moment a scent touches his nose, his mind locks. Every other smell drifting and circling the air became no more, like nothingness because every ounce of his being is focused on that smell. Tequila can't further explain what drew him towards the merchant's cart, but he certainly notices the lack of a steed or even a bull carrying the cargo. Perhaps this merchant had the strength of ten men, rippled. He says nothing to the male's sarcastic reply, raising his head when he recognised the sound of footsteps coming towards him. The boy presses his lips gently together, twirling his fingers about his bobbed hair as he tried to figure out who this person happened to be. A woman, most likely, but the feminine grace which enshrouded the woman's very stride. Cleopatra. Tequila offers only a weak smile at her words towards the man being handsome. He wouldn't know and he never really cared. From experimentation, the adolescent had come to learn that creatures liked to be complimented, and that people liked to see a bit of cheekiness.

He doesn't think much about his blindness. He tends to keep his bandages as hidden as possible, only visible through unfortunate partings of his hair or when the wind blew at his face. When he was younger someone had told him that his eyes looked unsightly and bandages looked only...unsettling, as if he had been injured. He took the liberty to take some care about his appearance, having done it so many times and neatly trimming his hair so often that the very pattern was a simple routine. He felt at ease falling into line, following this tradition and mapping his own face that he never felt confused. Systematic, machine-like. It was natural to him, ingrained into his very being. He worked so well without his eyes that he never really sought the need to tell others that he couldn't see. It was like asking for others to excuse him for his weakness, a weakness that hardly bothered him unless someone wanted him to choose one colour versus another.

"Ah, you're funny. How much for just one bottle?"