I do not understand “damned.” You are. And because you are, you can walk where you will, into peace, oblivion, or pits of fire, but you will always choose. // gisele delmont, assassin of hallbjorn.
“Hell,” Jeong breathed, thin fingers gripping the wound that opened itself freely to Bolstaor’s cold. She was surprised the hot, black blood that poured from her side did not crystallize and freeze in such winds. She twisted her body, facing away from an approaching person, “No worries–go away.”
“That is not the type of wound to have no worries about.” The words were as cold as the air around them, Gisele’s tone showing more scepticism than concern. With all the self-assuredness of a princess (that she was incredibly far from ever being) Gisele stuck her fingers to the blood darkened fabric surrounded the wound, pulling them back to stare at them, before turning narrowed eyes upon Jeong. “You’re going to bleed out. I need to put pressure on the wound, and then we’ll get you back to my room, you’re lucky I keep things in there and that we’re not too far away. As it is you might still die, and it’s always a shame when the pretty ones perish.”
“Not dying.” Alexandre paused for a moment, “Actually I had not meant to be in here, I do not know this place very well.” With her words he should have left but Alexandre was good at doing things that were the exact opposite of what he should. “You work with herbs?”
"Well, that’s less work for me.” Gisele turned to face Alexandre with a sigh, laying aside the work she’d been focused on. “I’m a healer,” she explained. “And I find herbs often work better than prayers.”
Vilkas cleared his throat at her words, making his presence known to her. “So many of you are rude when I pay so well.” he muttered stepping further into the room with her, “Not here for that. I need something small and something strong, easily concealable.”
Gisele turned, holding to her a pouch that she promptly dropped. Fluid as water, she bent to retrieve it, her hair falling loose from its light hold to conceal her face as she mastered her expression. The transformation into repentant and embarrassed was smooth. “I was unaware that it was you, Jarl, my apologies.” None of the contents had spilt, but as she rose she tightened the strings of the pouch anyway. The guise of a healer, and not an assassin, her own little game. “A poison then. Do you wish for it to kill? Or simply to incapacitate a rival?”
“---- Unless you’re dying, or someone else is dying, I’m not seeing patients now.” Life hardened hands continued on with their arranging of herbs, Gisele not bothering to turn her face upon the other person. “Unless you’re here for something to help with your stamina, in which case, I’ve got just the right thing already available.”
“I will be so quiet, I’ll never speak again,” the words are mocking but his features, even in the dark, are repentant as a saint’s in the face of a disagreement.
The neutral grounds of Bolstaor bodes more potential threats excitement than Lucian had previously anticipated. The place teems with the buzz of havoc abounding and whispered wails of upheaval. It sets his soul aflame—the prospect of having procured a front row seat to this…meeting.
“But tell me, sister,” he continues, effectively breaking his vow of silence. “Why do you continue to hoard such ugly baubles?” When there is so much more to in which to indulge.
“Don’t make promises you won’t keep, my poor heart can’t take the disappointment.” In direct contrast to her brother, it was Gisele’s words which took on the appearance of honesty. Her mocking laugh may have been silent, but she made no effort to hide it from her face. Alighting her eyes from the ring she had been polishing, they rose to settle on the shadowed form of her brother.
Bolstaor had still not quietened around them, tonight would not just be a night for the worst type of people to enjoy, but for the masses to also take their indulgences. Havoc, barely constrained, as people settled from their journeys, had the hour. It was a paradise for thieves and killers, and it had the strangest of calming effects upon her, the quieting of her blood that came whenever something was about to happen.
Gisele waited, as patient as a great hunting cat, for him to eschew the vow he’d so thoughtfully undertaken.
“They’re better company than you,” was her childlike rebuttal. Lucian needed none of the wit she stored for others. “And much prettier to look at, I find.” The ring she’d previously been cleaning found its home back on her finger, bauble and home to a weapon both. She liked her trinkets best when they were dual wielding. The multitude pins in her hair were good as good for killing, or lock-picking, depending on which, as they were for an accessory. “Unlike you, brother, they’re also capable of quiet.”
It seemed that everyone wanted to dip their fingers in the honey, push their ears against thick, stone walls and pray that they heard some sort of gossip. That had to be the only explanation for the endless crowd that covered every inch of Bolstaor’s frozen soil. Surely there couldn’t be that many people living among them. One would think the bloodshed between kingdoms would decrease the surplus population.
Even so, if she was bumped again, or had to stay in one place, legs itching, she would be happy to aid in the decrease. The majority of these simple folk need not be here [though it was certainly a mayday for the merchants, who bellowed loudly in the streets], couldn’t they be content to stay in their homeland and leave it to the big boys?
Clearing her throat, Jeong shoved through another throng of people–bless her thin form–she had to make it to the jarl’s home. Perhaps she shouldn’t have wasted that time, hanging back to flirt with that sultry blonde milkmaid, “Move aside, gods above and below!”
Today was only destined to become more frustrating.
Gisele stuck her elbow into the gut of a well-built man, sending him stumbling, and then ducking and slipping through her opening before he could retaliate. The bellow followed after her but she was already too far away for anything to be done.
It was pure happenstance that she was next to Jeong. Lips curling upwards, Gisele threw a grin as sharp as any knife. “You’re clearing a nice path for me to take advantage of, I hope you don’t mind.”
Someone brushed against her, an unfortunate inevitability when in a crowd like this. The brief lingering, of a feather-light touch by her waist, was not innocent, and it made those dark hues of hers narrow. It was so innocuous, that brush, that another person might have discounted only Gisele had lived a life of taking what wasn’t hers. The lives of others, the belongings of others, it was all the same, and it all required stealth better than this fool who was trying their trade on her.
As quick as any snake, she’d grabbed the guilty hand away from the pouches she carried, and was bending it backwards painfully. The smile she wore never faltered and if anything she looked as if this were a day as pleasant as any other. “Try that again, and I’ll break your hand, and then I’ll take your coin when I reset it.” As quick as she’d grabbed them, she was letting them go, sending them away into the throng behind them with a shove.
“By the gods, this is a thieves paradise,” she sighed.
“Look at them–like hens with their heads chopped off,” Ivar snorted, large arms flexing under his furs, “No one will find rest this night,” And a pity, too. Though he didn’t look it, Ivar was weary from travel, keeping an eye on his flock. It was he who was at fault, however. His distrust of the people about him heightened his protective instincts. May the gods strike him down if he be the first to suffer a casualty.
“A drink to warm you?” He grunted, halting beside a barrel.
“Where there are many people, chaos is inevitable.” Agreement or judgement, it could have been either, and neither her tone nor expression gave any signal as to which. So used to travel as she was, the wear of it showed only on her attire. In truth held more distaste for the bumblings of everyone else than she had for the journey she’d undertaken. She would be sleeping tonight, however long she managed to catch would be all the sweeter for the presence of a bed, and the lack of a bedroll underneath her.
“Your offer is kind, but my mother taught me never to take drinks from strangers.”
❆ — Have you heard? [ GISELE DELMONT ] has just set foot on Hlandul’s soil. She is the [ TWENTY FIVE ] year old [ ASSASSIN ] of [ HALLBJORN ]. Take heed, they are said to be [ ADAPTABLE & METICULOUS ], but are also quite [ DECEITFUL & VINDICTIVE ]. You might even say they are the [ MACHIAVELLI].
You could say that Gisele was born to be a killer, her first life taken before she was even a day old. Her mother died to give Gisele and her twin life, and within a number of years, their father had died too.
The years following were not kind, and they were not gentle, but they were essential in forming Gisele into the person she came to be.
Long story short, a man claiming to be a friend of their mother’s eventually took charge of the twins. From basically begging, they moved into a home where they usually guaranteed a meal each day. Young as they were, they were perfect to mould into whatever was needed.
She’ll tell you that she was never innocent, and that might as well be true. The beginning of her former life was marked with death, and all too quickly the beginning of her next one was too. Over the next few years, Gisele and her twin were taught how to kill, steal, and lie.
Essentially made into the perfect personal weapon, Gisele isn’t a leader at heart and she has no desire to be. Her own personal desires tend to involve looking her absolute best, and getting a full night’s sleep as often as possible.
Healing and killing go hand in hand, and it could be said that Gisele is as equally skilled at both. Her former keeper paid good coin for her to be taught everything about medicines, poisons, and the body that she knows. Poison might not be her preferred method, but she finds nothing dishonourable in using it as long as it gets the job done.
One of the more surprising facts about Gisele is her skill for torture. Thankfully it’s a skill set rarely used, certainly, it’s not one she favours, but she’ll do whatever is necessary if the situation calls.
She does a good job at seeming much colder than she actually is. The reality is that Gisele has much less chill than she likes to pretend she does.
In the end, she enjoys looking at pretty things, be that, pretty boys, pretty girls, pretty clothes, or pretty whatever. However, for all her appearances of vanity, she values other things much much more. Pretty things often lose her interest, and if you get past the false persona you’ll find she spends her time when not working on a variety of much more worthwhile pursuits. Still, you will take her prettiest jewels from her cold dead hands before she’ll willingly hand them over.
