#✥ mercury's bazaar

[rancorasael]

who?: open to all where?: mercury's bazaar when?: in the neptunalia verse

It was a passing comment on a stranger's lips, something vague about wanting to learn more about the Vanguard. It pissed Asael off to hear such nonsense and the thick threads of frozen water he began to tug at would've visualized his displeasure. Unfortunately, the glint of Olympian rings distracted him for a moment and his weave misfired, launching his frigid magic haphazardly into the crowd.

Asael didn't have time to stick around and get the scope of his accidental destruction. He slipped away in the resultant chaos, knowing a nearby entrance into the Bazaar. Clutching his hurting, ice-covered hand to his chest, he hoveled through his pain into the darkest alley he could reach, worried that the Olympians were still following him. Asael was visibly in rough shape, however stepping in pain was just second nature to him. When he walked back into another, his immediate reaction was to leap away and raise his uninjured hand, demonstrating that no matter how he may have looked, he was ready for a fight still.

"Well? Think I'm easy all you want, but I'm not," he says, hiding the strain in his voice well enough. He wasn't coughing up blood yet so he could pull off a few more spells before passing out from pain. "You won't get anything if you rob me, I don't got anything. Except for an ass-kicking. That I can give you for free."

[pinchofneven]

&&: @etienneulven Location: Mercury's Bazaar Notes: have you ever had a nightmare about running into your one-night stand at the farmer's market?

The streets of the spice market were bright, bustling and disorientingly loud. There was a perpetual cloud of incense cast over the streets, lulling the shoppers into dropping tens of gold pieces on pinches of salts from far-off lands. The infernal steered well clear of the salt basins. It was always the fresh herbs that Neven gravitated to first, as he found fresh oils worked the best for his brews. The basket at his hip was already burdened with fresh stock. Burdock root for fever, white willow to mute the pain, widow root as antiseptic and Sinarian mint just because he enjoyed the smell of it. The Iskaran crushed a leaf of it between his fingers, inhaling the sharp note on the air when he spied a familiar face passing through the market. His hair and gait were unmistakable, but the streak of white fur trailing after him confirmed it. A smile spread uncontrollably in wake of his excitement.

“Etienne!” Neven called after the figure. Fumbling through his pockets with his free hand, the alchemist hurriedly tossed a few gold to the stall’s owner, overpaying with insistence that he’d promptly return the basket. 

In the sepia shade of a vendor’s tarp, the cubi finally caught up. 

“So you did make it here in one piece. I was getting worried.” Neven panted, trying to hide just how winded he was by his chase through the market. After a brief examination of his past acquaintence’s exposed skin for any obvious wear or injury, Neven’s hooded gaze flicked comfortably between Etienne’s eyes and lips. “City life looks good on you.” He complimented, his voice soft as sage, as warm as cinnamon.

[resplendentoutfit]

Deathly Pale

The desire of women for ultra-pale skin didn't end with the Elizabethan era. In Victorian times, women still coveted the look of translucent white skin and applied the same causic, poisonous substances to their face, neck, arms and hands. Turbuculosis was a common cause of death in the era. The look of death was considered romantic for its tragic and poetic beauty. Even if a Victorian woman wasn't charmed by death due to turbuculosis, she still coveted pale, translucent skin. Tanned faces were the result of long hours of work out-of- doors, belonging to the lower classes.

“The death of a beautiful woman is, unquestionably, the most poetical topic in the world.” - Edgar Allan Poe

The two predominant beauty standards were the painted beauty and the natural beauty. The later was the preferred ideal of the average fashionable woman. The methods she employed to achieve good skin and complexion were all in an effort to look natural. The overly painted look was seen as racy - the province of prostitutes and "loose" women.

Upon a well-off Victorian woman's dressing table were arsenic, ammonia, and opium, among other toxic substances. The Ugly-girl Papers, Or, Hints for the Toilet was a book published in 1874 that contained a series of beauty articles for Harper's Bazaar. The author recommends coating the face with opium before bed and a brisk wash with ammonia in the morning. How refreshing.

Lotions containing lead were popular for whitening the skin as well as erasing freckles and other blemishes. Complexion wafers containing arsenic were widely advertised. These products were peddled to women as being harmless when, in fact, they caused headaches, nausea, and even paralysis.

To achieve eyes with a seductive gaze, Victorian women used Belladonna or Deadly Nightshade in the form of eye drops, which diluted the pupils. Eye irritation and even blindness were reported symptoms of this practice.

A little color over that deathly white facial palor was usually achieved with beet juice and sometimes, animal blood. It's intriguing to wonder how women came into possession of animal blood, though the answer may be as simple as a purchase from a local vendor. Vermillion, also known as red mercury, was used to tint the lips and was known to be poisonous.

Virginie Gautreau, the subject of the famous John Singer Sargent painting known as Madama X, was not only known to use products to whiten her skin, but was also purported to use indigo dye to paint veins over the ultra-pale veneer of her skin. I haven't found any sound evidence of this, however. What I did read in both The Collector and in an article at minsooki, was that over her arsenic pale skin, Virginie used a lavender powder to counteract the warmth of candlelight.

What's most troubling is that in the face of ample evidence of the health consequences of many of these products, women continued to value the look they provided, over their own health and safety.

References:

• Molly Brown House Museum: Beauty is in the Eye of the Beholder: How Victorians Used Common Poisons to Become Drop Dead Gorgeous

• Awful Forever

• Atlas Obscura

• minsooki.com

• The Collector

[hiddenvaldis]

who? open to non troupe where? mercury's bazaar when? during the troupe 1 plot drop

The thing about rumors is that despite every attempt to stop them, they will only grow and grow and grow. In time, they will change and twist and bend, but the kernel of truth will always remain. Anyone keen enough can dig past the shell to find the pearl within, and Valdís delights of working out the precision necessary to do it. It's a test for a skill she rarely gets to use on the Sea's Peril and one she does not want to lose. Her occasional trips to hostile shores is more than enough to keep her sharp, and as good excuse as any to supervise the crew manning the merchant ship to ensure there isn't any funny business going on.

Mercury's Bazaar is an excellent place to start on her meandering journey through the streets of Eterna — a pulse point of commerce, all merchants flock to it's streets and in between the banter and barter the truth slips from careless lips. Not quite as careless as those found in the bars, but in plan daylight the clientele will probably be worthless to her.

Stopping before a booth full of books, she allows her eyes to move languidly across the covers. She is trying to figure out if there is any worthy addition to her personal library when she feels someone loom over her shoulder, blocking the light.

"You mind?" She snipes, glancing back to send the interloper an accusing look. "You are hogging the light. Move."

[princemordecai]

@morgansbond location: Mercury's Bazaar notes: little starter for our connect

The comforts of home, the people, the city, and the familiarity were nice. There were things that he'd taken for granted when he lived in Eterna; growing up here, it was easy to forget that life wasn't nearly as comfortable outside this city. He'd come and gone when he was a kid when he'd started down the Olympian path, but conflict to the south had opened his eyes to what he'd always taken for granted: freedom. People like Morgan were a reminder of how bad it was outside Lysaran borders and how, even in this Queendom, people use those with magic as scapegoats for all the world's troubles. It is as if all life's problems and conflicts could be traced back to some spell or accident of birth.

"It's been a long time." A few years, anyway. Morgan was one of the few Iskarans who had gotten out, a survivor of what could only be a burning house for someone like him. The bazaar was dark, but apart from the sky above, you wouldn't know how late it was. He missed the tangible electricity of the bazaar; people from all over Lysara congregated here, shopping, selling, and seeking. While the Tower of Olympia hung overhead, the world he'd known still felt so far away. Leander extended his hand towards the other, a sign of respect despite the gap between their stations. "Good to see you again."

[kayames]

Person: @ikarosx Location: Mercury's Bazaar? somewhere Ikaros would pick up supplies for questin Notes: flashback

Kay would like to think he's fairly resourceful on account of once he got an idea in his head it was hard not to just fall victim to the brainrot. He knew people, just because he had been shut out of nobility didn't mean he still couldn't get in contact with people who were important. Granted, an oracle and a prince were a lot harder to approach than just some guy who may or may not know where some old vampire grimoire was. However he was someone who took time to read every damn bulletin board in Eterna when it came to contracts, Thieves Guild or otherwise, and he knew Ikaros and that wonderful catsith of his wound up being dragged along by Abelas. Quests to go help animals took supplies, supplies could be bought in quite a few places. It was a waiting game, one he'd been playing a long time because it's a hard subject to broach. Finding Ikaros isn't the hard part, he'd seen the guy around a couple of times and yet he hadn't been able to bring himself to say anything. "You probably get this a lot, but once upon a time you did a reading for a noble witch and I've got questions about it." He's exasperated that he's even asking, having approached the oracle and what has to be the most wonderful cat he's ever seen on a whim.

[ofkaedon]

Location: Mercury's Bazaar, Eterna

Tag: @haelimthewatcher

While only seven years have passed, it feels like a lifetime. Iskaldrik and the witchers have been in his rearview mirror as he moves forward. He was trained to be a witcher, though he would firmly tell you he is not a witcher - Kaedon has made a new reputation for himself among the thieve's guild and Eterna is the playground in which he gets to play. He really isn't all that concerned by what is going on around the continent of Taravell. It's all happening somewhere else to someone else and let's be honest, in full pettiness, he's not upset about what happened in Iskaldrik. It's a life he left behind.

He's in the bazaar on a job. At a glance though, he appears to be gazing through the bakery window perhaps eyeing the fresh rolls placed out and enjoying the sweet smell of freshly baked goodies. Enticing, yes, that is not what he is doing. In the reflection of the glass he sees the target he is currently following. Said target owes money to the guild and has done quite a good job avoiding them. That's where Kaedon comes in. He was trained in the harshest of conditions to track monsters, he's putting that skill to use, though this was definitely not what had been intended for.

The target moves from the table they had been eyeing and moves further in. Kaedon waits, silently counting the seconds in his head before he turns and moves to follow. But in those seconds as the target merges with the crowd, Kaedon's eye is caught by another figure crossing through his line of sight. He freezes in recognition - something he doesn't do - he doesn't believe in ghosts and yet, he swears he just saw one.

His head turns to follow the way his would-be apparition had gone. Standing there as a ghost of his past, Haelim.

It had been fifteen years and yet Kaedon felt eleven years old again, a witcher trainee hanging on every word of one of the few witchers he had looked up to. He remembers Haelim's sentencing as a criminal and traitor to the witcher cause, the other had been sent away then and forgotten. Kaedon had thought the wise witcher dead but always remembered the words that he was better than all that they were trying to make him become.

Kaedon was no longer the witcher trainee, again he was not a witcher and he remembers his target and....fuck...his target was nowhere in sight. He would have to try and pick up the target again back at the docks as they were sure to return there. And yet he can't bring himself to go and whether it was his heart or head that made the decision, he was crossing towards the other former witcher.

In the earshot of the other, "Excuse me," He said to catch the other's attention, "Haelim Wormwood?" A tone of questioning as if maybe this ghost of the past was just a mistaken figure for someone else.

[wantedbythemasters]

Aster Morrow | The Silvering Thief

Image from here

Age in 1902 (or the 3rd 1899): 37

Gender: Male, he/him

Height: 5’11’

Weight: 157 lbs

Sexuality: Gay

Race: Indian

Love Interest: May, but who knows what they actually are together

Factions: Criminals, Revolutionaries 

Open to RP: Yep!

Open to Shipping: You can try but it’ll probably take a while for him to warm up

Past Epithet: The Mercurial Thief

Desc:

Aster is a fairly successful criminal with feats such as robbing the Bazaar. He has tons of aliases, but most criminals who know him personally know him as Aster or Aster Morrow. He also lost his mind seeking for a while and ended up with a strange connection with Salt as a result. And he learned silvering from May who he has a complicated relationship with.

He’s trying to be a better person than he has been, but it hasn’t been easy for him. He tends to be pretty deadpan and pretends he doesn’t really care about anyone a lot of the time, even when he does.

He’ll probably go east eventually, but he's not in a rush. 

Parabolan Self:

In Parabola, Aster is known as the Eastbound Pirate. He often controls water and forms it into various weapons. He also has a ship called the Herald. Sometimes it has sails, and resembles a traditional pirate ship (like, with sails) and sometimes it has wings instead and flies. Aster also sometimes has wings on his Parabolan form.

Appearances:

The Star and the Candle - Major character

Tea Time - Major character

Flirting with disaster (in a different way) - Major character

There’s also an nsfw one that I’m not linking but it’s on AO3 ;)

Timeline:

1865-1869

Aster was born in the Neath to very irresponsible parents. He was often neglected while they partied and gambled. When he was about 4, his parents abandoned him at a church and an urchin gang took him in, but they didn’t treat him well.

1878-1887 

They cast him out earlier than usual, when he was around 13. But he quickly joined the Gracious Widow’s gang, and also met Maria, who he often ended up working with. Due to his past, though, he found it hard to trust her or anyone else.

Over the years, Aster also found work with the Topsy King and Cheery Man and became acquainted with their gangs as well.

In 1887, Maria told him she’d be leaving the Widow’s gang to work at the Parlour of Virture, and Aster was really upset about this and felt that she was using being a criminal as a gang and now she’d get to move on with her real family and a normal life, and he’d never be able to. She told him she viewed him as a brother and asked if he also wanted to be hired and he said he didn’t want a sister or to work with her, so she told him off. That was they saw each other for quite a while.

1898

In his early 30s, he began to experience strange feelings and visions and found himself seeking. The criminals and a certain hotel manager tried to help him break free, and seemed to be successful for a few months where Aster lived in the Flit and became close to the raggedy people, while learning silvering from May in an attempt to make it less likely he’d be tricked by Eaten again. However, Aster still had some of the same impulses and began steadily being pulled deeper into seeking, which the silvering lessons ended up exacerbating. Eventually, Aster ended up having the Shapeling Arts used on him to change his face, while Mr Eaten had him forget that anyone else had cared for him and hid his presence in Parabola so he could collect the candles with no one interfering. 

Meanwhile the actual Mr Candles, who’d been trapped somewhere in Parabola and who was REALLY TIRED of constantly being reminded of his trauma was also trying to stop this and managed to free Mr Mirrors who directed Aster in a slightly different direction which led to May finding Aster in Irem and Aster asking about Salt at the Avid Horizon.

Also, in Irem he saw a vision of the Neon Future, where he collected information for the criminals and revolutionaries to stay ahead of the masters and ensure that the Seventh City was here to stay.

[prcspero]

closed starter for @vuldak-juneau location: mercury's bazaar note: she's RICH

The last time he'd been in a bazaar, he'd had his shit jacked and knocked the fuck out. Knuckles probably still hated him for not bringing anything back and Prospero had been trying to wrap his head around if he cared or not. He probably should have given how devious those little children were. They'd probably find him here and try to steal from him again. His gaze flitted around the area to make sure nobody was indeed trying to, once again, jack his shit. So far, so good, it looked like. One could never be sure though. Once he was done observing the place, he turned his head to look at Juneau. "Did you get robbed in Hestia's Cove, too?" Probably not. She was tiny and looked like she was going to bite someone at any given moment. Also, she did not seem as paranoid as he was right now. Lucky. "Better question, did you hear about a Knuckles, too?"

[incubusnero]

Person: @ladyaylin Location: Mercury's Bazaar "When I set out this morning I didn't expect to see such a lady out and about." He can't even say it with any of the usual honeyed bravado, he is genuinely happy to see her. Rounding the corner past some trinkets on a table, he thought he'd been crazy to glimpse her side profile in his peripheral. Nero had to stop and blink before approaching her right in the middle of all the hustle and bustle of the bazaar. He is a man of many flings and affairs and the like, it's not his fault he was gifted with more charisma than a Sinarian snake charmer! The thing was, he remembered most of them and he did indeed have favorites, regardless of how things had ended. Aylin is one of those he knew really deserved better than the likes of him and the split had been amicable.

[breacher44]

Week 5 Homework

I am a Virgo

The colors most associated with my sign are brown and green. An animal that relates to my sign is a wolf. Wolves are intelligent and loyal, traits that match with being a Virgo.

The planet that is associated with my sign is Mercury. This planet relates to intelligence as well.

I included astrological signs for "earth" and "Mercury" which both are related to my astrological sign. Being a Virgo has to do with staying grounded, which is why the colors brown and green are used.

Attendance Prompt:

"She was a notorious, transatlantic bad girl: dosing her ballet teach with cocaine, editing the French Harper's Bazaar, carrying on a succession of high-profile affairs, and throwing parties to which she only invited pairs of moral enemies" (126)

Today, I still think of the color "shocking pink" as badass. However, I did not even know the story behind this color. It was very interesting to learn that this woman who embodied the color gave that color specific human traits and characteristics. Now, when I see it, I associate it with certain traits, something that many other colors are not able to do.

[coffeestainedcamera]

Finished the Wanderer quest! There'll be spoilers under the cut!

Mannnn, it's nice that I had a busy season at work and didn't get spoiled on social media bc of that lol. Experiencing it first-hand like that was truly something. It was painful to see Scara wipe himself from history, as I suppose he felt that it'd be a way to undo the damage he caused (not that it did much). Like, he did all sorts of horrific things throughout the story, but I also kind of felt bad bc he was ultimately someone who chose to channel his abandonment issues into the most destructive outlet possible. I really didn't want to see his story end like this, ig.

But I suppose wandering all over the place as an innocent amnesiac helped, as he's had the opportunity to see a better side of humanity here. That's what likely equipped him to accept the consequences of his actions. Plus, ig he was actually informed by the crew that the self-wipe didn't work.

Anyways, leaving his name as Wanderer felt too lazy, so I went with Mercury. Kind of as a nod to the fact that the protagonist ran into the new incarnation at a bazaar, plus the deity's association with travelers and speed. They do say, "run like the wind", after all. Also, bc Freddy Mercury is someone nice to share part of your name with imo.

Anyways, the wait for the follow-up will be painful! I want more info on the identity of the mysterious lady who gave the protag a talk about changing fate! And I want to see more of the ripple effects and weird consistency across the changed world!

[ruyaceres]

who: @rykardthebarbarian when: eleven(ish) years ago where: eterna, lysara

Mercury's Bazaar was living tapestry brimming with fresh produce, simmering meats, and eclectic fashions that spilled across the winding paths like brocade vines. “No, thank you.” Rüya smiled politely, raising a hand to fend off a portly vendor who thrust a bowl of steaming stew into her path. The witch's nose crinkled as the russet liquid assaulted her senses, undoing years of carefully mastered composure in an instant.

“Apologies,” she murmured, retreating with as much grace as she could muster. Although the gold ring on her finger, now adorned with a gleaming lapis stone, drew attention, she came to the market seeking anonymity. Its chaotic energy was a stark contrast to the sterile quiet of Asclepius' Hospital. Even if just for a few hours, it felt good to step away from the pressure of being a Healer and simply live as an ordinary citizen.

With her supplies in hand, Rüya ducked into a tunnel that led toward Eterna's docks. Through the narrowing passageway, the shimmering expanse of Tiber Bay glistened under the setting sun.

She barely had time to register the giant figure in the shadows before a hand shot out. Glass vials tumbled from her paper bag, skidding across the stones in erratic arcs. Her heart jolted. These weren't The Tower’s hallowed halls. Here, she wasn’t untouchable.

"FUCK OFF!" Rüya snarled, her Astorian accent echoing in the darkness.

[spiralailani]

who? @vuldakrcque where? Mercury’s Bazaar

Shimmering rays of sunshine warm her as she weaves through the crowds, humming a little tune as she walks. It’s a wonderful day, and she had made a series of wonderful deals. She is in a celebratory mood, and that drives her steps as she heads towards one of her favorite little stalls in the market. They sell the most divine little trinkets, and she thinks she might indulge in a nice hairpin or two as a treat. Happy and warm as she is, she almost doesn’t notice the tug of the Veil threading through her fingers. 

Almost.

But Lailani has spent the last century, give or take, following the designs of the Veil. Her steps come to a stop and she hesitates, eyes glancing longingly to her favorite stall before sighing and following the tug through the crowd. Swift and purposeful, she moves towards one of the alleys, and winces when she feels a sharp spike of anger and pain from someone within. 

“Excuse me, hello?” She calls out gently. “Are you alright? Do you need help?”

[ormir]

Location: Mercury's Bazaar &&: @froyofthe-ironwood Notes: hi did your dad ever mention me

Another Iskaran was the market, recognizable by the round-mouthed accent rolling through the crowd like a dropped platter. The tone, the inflection, the trained manner of speech spoke of status. Nobility. Ormir followed the voice, snipping through the crowd until he found the face it belonged to. He blanched. The resemblance was uncanny, like the man had been thawed straight out of a memory forty years frozen.

Ormir was then a child of seven years, standing in a raised hall crafted from ironwood and stone. He hadn’t known ceilings could even arch so high, nor that houses could stand mightier than the trees themselves. The boy did as he was expected and remained silent. He cast a shadow over the bent shape of his father’s body as the man groveled, palm-up, before the elder Jarl of the Skjaldwood. Elifr would’ve dried his own bloodline if it earned him a sliver of the Instads’ power, if it installed his name among the great houses of Iskaldrik. Instead, his consuming ego only earned condemnation for himself and his family, and stained the name that was Ormir’s only inheritance. The disdain he was worthy of was there even then, set into Jarl Instad’s features. It was Ormir’s first brush with power, and it had left a burn in his memory.

In the wake of the incursion, there had been a wealth of rumors spread about the noble lines lost in the fire. The credibility of most were impossible to vet until they found sanctuary, and even then, taking a census of the survivors in every direction they’d scattered to was nearly impossible. Among the rumors that Ormir did not dismiss outright was that of an estranged son crawling back from exile. An Instad who appeared just in time to claim the woodland seat before the embers began to snow. If this were truly the Jarl of the Skjald, he had a knack for timing… or he had known something they didn’t. Ormir approached, trying not to stare too overtly at the anachronism he’d found. The table to their right was laid with simple wood tools and boxes, each piece engraved or embellished with semi-precious metal to imitate value for a more… pedestrian palette. All novelties compared to the masterwork ironwood carpenters were capable of. Ormir skimmed the table’s edge with two fingers, feeling the rough edges of the sun-faded upholstery.

“It’s not comparable to home, is it?” Ormir spoke to the stranger, in their mother tongue.

[moonazanzibartours]

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