Lumenhearted
silesseti:
“Ain’t it obvious?” Lewyn scoffs, “The weapon your husband is so feverishly looking for.”
The ruse has been broken, the disguise unveiled. Her reaction to Erinys’ assail clears any lingering doubt in Lewyn’s mind that this woman is their criminal. Bard’s smirk returns to his face, for he knows what is naturally to come. With little surprise does he react to her unsheathing a pair of daggers from beneath her dress–one pointed at each Silessian.
She, too, is smirking. But she knows not who she’s dealing with.
“Some date this turned out to be, eh Erinys?” But before she can answer, the fighting starts. Thief flinches for the prince, and he responds with god-given breeze. From beneath the cuff of his suit a gust of wind blows–small enough to not knock her over, big enough to push her back–and Lewyn lets go of his wife’s hand. He circles round the woman, casting another toke of his famed Forseti.
Only this one does not push. It snakes round her side and recalls back to him when Lewyn balls his fingers into a fist. She is pulled and tripped over the leg of the table, a timbering tree in the wake of his storm. On her way down, though, she manages a single slash against his cheek. Droplets of red fall and splash against ornate flooring like falling rain, but are no skin off Lewyn’s back. He’s dealt with the avaricious before, knows they don’t take kindly to their truth in the limelight. A little nick against his face is a fair price to pay for justice.
More importantly though, this woman has turned around. In her pursuit of Lewyn, who had so willingly labelled himself a threat to her, she lowered the knife pointed to Erinys. This, too, is part of the prince’s grand vision. He knows that the man is inebriated and a flustered mess–panicking as he tries to scramble to his feet. He shouts some incomprehensible garble, but Lewyn tunes him out. With Erinys behind the rogue, she is not only fighting two-on-one, but at a notable advantage.
When the thief regains her footing and glares at the bard, she is met only with his mocking smile. Come hell or high water, his faith in Erinys will never waiver; he knows it’s only a matter of time until they win, so why not give ‘em something pretty to look at in their final moments of freedom?
So much for avoiding the spotlight tonight,
This, however, is a dance that pegasus knight knows far better than that of earlier. She steps easily out of harms way, allows her husband to play his cards to best line up with her own, and strikes.
She bears neither magic nor hidden knives, but years spent with a lance have warranted her more than her fair share of strength. Man forgotten, for he likely will not get all too far anyways, Erinys watches as the woman raises her knife once more. In one smooth motion, knight catches the other’s ankle with her own, effectively throwing off the attacker’s balance to more easily seize her arms. They’re held behind her back, squeezed until her grip on the knife fails and metal clatters to the ground.
Erinys blinks up at her partner, ignoring the stream of curses from her captive and the eyes of the party that have all seemingly found their way to her. She nods toward the forgotten man who is still fumbling about a mere few feet away.
“Could you take care of him?” Not that it’ll be too difficult of a task, really, the poor thing looks as though he’s seen a ghost.
And with both charges apprehended -- her own having given up her thrashing in favor of avoiding the humiliation of being dragged out of the ball for all to see -- Erinys nods towards the exit.
It’s a relief to feel fresh air again, and even more so to hand off their criminals to the knights awaiting them. With a satisfied hum, Erinys turns to Lewyn once more.
“...I don’t imagine they’ll be inviting us back anytime soon, hm?”
- FIN .
