His name was Jeremi Carver, and the world would not mourn his loss. A small-time businessman, he had somehow managed to bury his own grave by turning on a wealthier business partner—and by sleeping with the business partner’s wife. The method was simple. He was garrotted in an alleyway and left to rot. She took his wallet and watch—there was nothing else worth taking. Mist swirled around her feet,
A shift in the shadows caught her attention and she cursed herself, gun freed from the holster beneath her jacket in a moment. It was only a dog. but Kalrien’s senses had been honed enough to be suspicious of anything living.
There was no way to tell for sure, but it was worth a try.
”I have no interest in the tenets of the Path.” Her voice was quiet, cold. “So if you have come to sell me out or give me sage advice, I must warn you that I have patience for neither.” It felt idiotic to talk at a dog, but one couldn’t be too careful. Besides, she wasn’t speaking so loud that anyone else could hear.
When was the last time he set foot out of the forest? A few years, a decade ago, at the least. Roaming the streets again—it feels odd. You never quite forget the feeling of asphalt under your paws, but it’s certainly no forest floor, no grass nor gravel.
While Ajax doesn’t make it habit not to skulk around for this and that, he really was minding his own business. For the most part.
He doesn’t need to map out the city again. He remembers it all with crystal clarity—it might just be for nostalgia’s sake, but something tells him he was in the wrong place, at the wrong time.
Not that it matters. Not that he cares.
When the body of a man drops dead not a few meters away and the stench of blood hits his nose, it’s hardly enough to make him care. He’s got nothing to do with it anyway.
Although the figure approaching him – the murderer, or perhaps assassin, he wagers – with a gun in hand is enough to make his guard rise, feet prepared for fight or flight (or both in that respective order), and he nearly draws away, but he doesn’t.
His ears flick once, twice, head tilting dumbly to the side, tongue lolling out over his teeth, out of the side of his mouth.
Masking that intelligence in his eyes is easy by now. Habit.
It’s tempting to speak, just as it always is and has been, but he stays quiet.
