Lii + Anfini

<l me>
She is a typical Human except for the fact that she is as albino as they come. Her skin is milk-
white, and her thin, straight hair likewise without pigment. Lashes the colour of snow frame eyes of
an unnerving bloody pink hue in a narrow, sharp-featured face. Her body is without an abundance of
feminine curves, but what she lacks in endowment she makes up in a sort of long-limbed, willowy
grace.

                 (snug and neatly buttoned) : a black waistcoat
                         (worn on the feet) : fur-lined combat boots
                         (worn on the legs) : black leather pants with silver buckles
                (tucked into her waistcoat) : a glittering ruby shard pendant
                               (at her hip) : a sleek, black pouch



Inside the outer gate. (Spinesreach.)
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-[+]
    \
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A stout donkey stands patiently by, waiting for a burden. A five-sided pillar of dark, smoky quartz
clutches at the sky with lightning-wreathed claws of stone, surrounded by a veil of turbulent air. A
sigil in the shape of a small, rectangular monolith is on the ground. A granite monument stands here,
 its surface polished to a shine. A grand pair of gates, seemingly formed from solid ice, stand
thrown open here. There are 2 grim red flag, depicting a lions here. A bright decoration has been
hung here, Spirean colors proudly displayed. There are 2 regally-dressed Syndicate enforcers here.
There are 2 cabalists of jherza here. Quiet and unmoving as stone, a lupine Atabahi stands guard
here. There are 2 Spirean Sciomancers here. A massive golem made of clay stands here. A glowing red
flame-shaped sigil has been left here.
You see exits leading southeast, west, and up.
A regally-dressed Syndicate enforcer briefly pounds his fist against his breast and declares to you,
"Keep in line, Comrade."

As you focus on the connection to your city's pylon, you feel the pylon gently hum in response. Your
surroundings shift rapidly until you are standing at the city's portals. (City Portals)

The Portals of Spinesreach. (portals of Spinesreach.)
This room has not been mapped.
A five-sided pillar of dark, smoky quartz clutches at the sky with lightning-wreathed claws of stone,
 surrounded by a veil of turbulent air. A grey-clad peasant conscript stands here, slouching wearily
as she maintains her watch over the area. Dr. J. R. Anfini, the Fixer is here. He wields a buckler
in his left hand and a whirring staff of segmented machinery in his right.
You see exits leading northeast, east, southeast, southwest, west, northwest, and down.

HHe is a prudent Mhun, a lanky, well-cut man who must be seven feet tall, at the very least. He is
peppered lightly with a long life's worth of natural scars, etched against corded musculature that
defines his lithe shape. He tends to wear loose clothing, his shirt often unbuttoned, revealing the
fat, circular scar just beneath his sternum, centered perfectly at the apex of his gut. His angular
face is framed by a chaos of white hair, kept clean but handily neglected. Two narrow eyes, thin
lips, and a long, patrician nose make his face knife-edged, handsome and boyish, but lined with
marks of age. Where one of his eyes is a rich orange color, the other is dead, fogged over with
cataracts, milky blue in coloration. He wears a smattering of piercings all over his face, silver
rings or studs chosen at random, embedded into his eyebrows, nose, ears, or lips. He walks with the
blessing of Iosyne.

                 (tucked in, cuffs cinched) : a simple beige dress shirt
                       (buttoned just once) : a regal golden vest
                     (slung over his chest) : a brown leather bandolier
                    (tucked into his boots) : a pair of brown leather trousers
                         (worn on the feet) : a pair of gray armored boots
              (residing in his vest pocket) : a chain bearing a brass compass

You eye Anfini, giving him the once over.

Anfini peers at you suspiciously.

You say, "I think I've heard of you."

"Most people have," Anfini answers, continuing to stare at you frankly. He strokes the stubble of
his chin.

You have emoted: Liialah narrows her pinkish eyes, stalking a slow circle around Anfini.

You say, "You're that doctor they locked up."

You say, "Right?"

Anfini doesn't seem especially surprised by this, standing up straight and setting a hand out
imperiously on the head of his staff, chin elevated. "That is me, Dr. Janus Anfini. What can I do
for you, comrade?"

You say, "How come you're out here?"

"Because I was released," Anfini says matter-of-factly, with an abundance of patience in his voice.

You have emoted: Liialah briefly displays a ferocious grin. "I bet you escaped."

"Could be," Anfini says, matching grin for grin, his teeth bared as his lips part. "Truth is, I
could pick the lock of my cell easily enough. But it is a rare man that can escape the null field
established by a Numerological ward array."

You have emoted: Liialah gives Anfini a blank look. "A what."

"A Numerological ward array," Anfini says, in that same patient, even tone, always looking off into
the distance, "Is a series of points set into space that manipulate rafic, the number we associate
with place, to keep people within the array from leaving."

You have emoted: Liialah considers Anfini, looking thoughtful. Finally, she says, "I don't know
enough big words to use that for a strategy."

You have emoted: Liialah gives Anfini a searching, knowing look, still inspecting closely. "But it
works for you, huh."

Anfini chuckles richly, smiling from ear to ear as his eyes narrow, catlike. "Big words, eh. Perhaps
you are suited to your Syndicate work. And it works for everyone - rafic is unconcerned with its
victims, as we are all affected by it, more or less."

You have emoted: Liialah waves a hand dismissively. "Not -that-, you can keep your Cabalisty games."
She seems something like a cat that has discovered a ball of fluff and is toying with trying to pin
it. "I meant the people part. Say big enough words and anyone will think you know what you're doing.
Right?"

"You think I'm bullshitting you," Anfini says abruptly, peering down his nose at you.

You have emoted: Liialah's gleeful grin is visible for a moment, again, gone in a flash. "Aren't
you?"

Without so much as a shift in expression, his default smile frozen in place, Anfini's answer is
equally brief: "No."

You have emoted: Liialah nods, seeming both amused and satisfied. "Right," she agrees, as if you had
with her.

Anfini snorts through his nose, glancing away disinterestedly, and that's that. The Doctor leans on
his staff considerably, and occupies himself with his cigarette.

Anfini takes a long drag from a lit long, slender white cigarette.
Anfini exhales a thick cloud of smoke, redolent with pungent scents.

You have emoted: Liialah observes Anfini in silence for a few moments, her paper-hued expression
unreadable. Then, finally, she says abruptly- "Those rings and stuff. In your face."

"Yes?" Anfini asks, staring off into space, contrails of smoke leaping from his fingers.

Anfini's smile diminishes somewhat, not out of dissatisfaction but out of thoughtfulness. "In my
youth, I'd fallen in with the tribesmen of the Liruma - studied them for a few years. Lived among
them. I was honored as an honorary tribe member, and... well, I guess this is my way of remembering.
" He prods at one of the piercings in question, his lip ring, which he fondles briefly.

You have emoted: Liialah quirks an eyebrow, her expression now a perfectly youthful one of disbelief.
 "Are you serious," she asks flatly.

"Will you believe anything I say at all?" Asks Anfini.

You have emoted: Liialah sniffs. "Maybe," she replies.

You say, "So did they do it for you? You didn't answer my question."

Anfini grunts, pausing a weighted moment to drag at his cigarette, whittling its size down by a
third. He speaks as a fountain of smoke filters through his teeth. "The Syndicate teach you to view
the world through unclouded eyes, if they're anything like the Defenders I knew, and that's good.
But remember that it's just as important to know who you can trust out of those you can't." With
that apropos little life lesson in the air, he adds, "If you're really that curious about my fashion
sense, I pierce myself."

You have emoted: Liialah seems to seriously consider your words, some of the catlike energy
filtering out of her. "Should I trust you," she asks after a moment- her tone is honest and frank.

Anfini turns on his heel and looks you square in the eye, his good eye a smoldering orange, matching
the tip of his cigarette. The smile's back, the grin of a skull. "Absolutely not," he says. "You
should trust no one, should trust naught but evidence gathered first-hand."

You have emoted: Liialah nods, a sort of 'fair enough' pout on her lips, brows raised in an
expression of self-aware 'I asked for that'. "Well," she says finally. "I did have a reason for
asking about the rings and stuff."

Anfini laughs aloud, the rich, faintly raspy sound of his voice filling the air, a great belly laugh
that leaves him winded, rubbing at the side of his face. "You accept contradiction, you seem to
expect it. I like that! I always considered that the dividing line between education and true
intelligence. So, why are you so interested in my rings."

You have emoted: Liialah digs in her pouch for a moment, and soon comes up with a small, crimson
earring stud. "I got given this," she explains. "Only... I can't wear it. Because." She gestures to
herself and her unscathed lobes.

Anfini nods, grinning from one side of his face - it seems he's almost always grinning. He cuts to
the chase. "You would like me to help you put in your studs."

You have emoted: Liialah gives Anfini a suspicious, bloody-pink sidelong look. "Well, I wanted to
find out if there was someone doing it," she clarifies. She bites her lip. "It's just the one,
anyway, but..." She seems to be hesitating right on the verge of asking directly.

This earring is simple and made from humble components, but nevertheless manages to be a striking
hint of detail. A small chip of bright crimson glass has been faceted to catch the light and sparkle
like a gem, and a setting of silver both holds it securely to the stud post and adds a hint of
contrast to the piece.
It can be worn in the following locations:
ears  nose  lips
It has 358 months of usefulness left.
It weighs 2 ounce(s).
It bears the distinctive mark of Director Eleanor Junakutz-Lionheart.

Anfini sighs faintly, taking a few steps toward you, answering gently, "I will be taking a break for
a moment - and then when I return, I have to help stitch up a comrade's face. When I am done, I
would be glad to help you with your less pressing issue."

You have emoted: Liialah blinks. "Stitch up a... right." She nods. "I-" a stumbling hesitation, and
her fingers curl around the stud again. "...Thanks."

"Calm yourself," Anfini says quietly, gesturing toward you casually, his palm turned up. "It's okay,
darlin', it's not surgery. It'll be fun, I'm sure you'll look quite fetching."
Rising higher in the sky, the sun illuminates the land, confining darkness to the shadows.

You have emoted: Liialah flushes, and the colour is garish in her pallid cheeks. "I'll. Uh. See you
later, then," she manages, before finding a direction to scamper off.

<exeunt.>