hey @ len and @ vanaline and also @ feather why is vanalen the best ship thx
Len:Me? And Vanaline? Like... Well then. I mean, she’s certainly easy enough on the eyes, but I don’t sleep with my familiars. Not even the pretty ones.
Vanaline:To engage in intimate acts with a lesser being is a sin against the Sisters. I am a creation of splendid perfection, endowed with the powers of creation itself. To lower myself in degradation with a creature so far beneath me would be depravity of the most wicked kind. I’ve executed many for less.
Len:You take orders from this “creature so far beneath you,” seraph, so watch your tone.
Vanaline:[pauses] Point conceded, summoner.The real reason this ship is not the best is that it is a terrible and dangerous idea that would probably wipe out a city and also like Len is a bad person but Vanaline is much much worse and they would be awful together and no matter what I write to torture @leftingimborn outside of canon it’s neeeeever gonna happen in the real deal.
Join Van Alen today in the LES as they explore the L.E.S Decoded!
This afternoon at the Clemente Soto Vélez Cultural & Educational Center and spots around the Lower East Side, explore public space experiments by QSAPP, The Lowline, and more, followed by a fast-paced conversation about how we can decode—and disrupt—our sidewalks, parks, and plazas. Hear insight (and surprises) from Miraya Berke, founder, Pop Productions NYC; David Breen, associate project manager, public spaces, NYC DOT; Naomi Hersson-Ringskog, co-founder, NO LONGER EMPTY; Karen Kubey, architectural and housing consultant / visiting associate professor, Pratt Institute School of Architecture; Taka Sarui, architect, BKSK Architects.
Fandom: Called Forth
Rating: PG
Genre: AU - Role Reversal
Pairing: Vanalen
Words: 1,325
So, there was a group of us who did some flashfic prompts for Valentine’s Day evening, consisting of me, @kogiopsis, @swamp-spirit, @lunarubato, and @ladyknightradiant. Each round, one person gives you a prompt, another gives you three ships to pick from. This was round one. I got role reversal and picked Vanalen out of my options, because it was too terrible of an idea for me to pass up.
For those unfamiliar with Called Forth, my novel, in their canon iterations, Len is a summoner from Mondial, and Vanaline is her familiar, a seraph from Syiari who can control people’s minds with her voice. In this swap, Vanaline is now a noblewoman summoner on Mondial, whereas Len is her anjenni familiar from Syiari. Anjenni are the middle-powered race on Syiari, not as strong as the seraphs. Whereas seraphs can completely take your mind over with a song, anjenni can just play with your emotions a bit, maybe make you follow some commands if you aren’t resisting. (Len’s character doesn’t work as a seraph, it just doesn’t.)
So yep, have some twisted power dynamics and a touch of mind-control. Happy Valentine’s Day, right? @leftingimborn, eat your heart out.
The swirling abyss of white coalesced into shape before Len’s eyes, then color. Feeling bloomed outward from her core, spreading through limbs to extremities as though pushed by each beat of of her heart. As soon as she could sense her fingertips, she flexed them, curling each, as though to reassure herself that they were functional. Behind herself, she felt the surface of her wings focused from a smooth mass to distinct feathers. As though she were a sketch slowly being detailed by an artist until everything was back in place.
Even after all this time, the summoning process still felt odd to her.
Once she had control of herself, even as the colors began to fade into her from the shaile’s iridescent white to her natural skin tone, she dropped to one knee. Even still, there was a flash of defiance from within her at the subservient action, but her summoner had long since trained her in how a familiar was meant to act before her master. Even if that defiant spark hadn’t been extinguished, it had been buried far enough down that it wouldn’t cause problems.
Probably.
“Rise,” Vanaline said, and Len looked up, seeing where she had been summoned to for the first time.
They were in Vanaline’s quarters, high above the city in her tower of the palace. Len had always thought there was something seraphine in her summoner, with her penchant for riches and high spaces. Perhaps that was why Len had eventually learned to obey when commanded. Though her summoner was Mondian and had no wings, an anjenni like Len was used to being commanded by the upper class.
Though she hated it still.
Len stood, wings loose behind her, hand going to her sword. “What is it you require of me, my lady?” The words were flat, almost toneless. Vanaline may have instilled obedience into her familiar, but that didn’t mean Len had to act as though she liked it.
“It’s an important day,” Vanaline said, turning her back to Len and holding up the neck ties of her dress. Len stepped forward to fasten them as she’d been trained. Her main purpose was to serve as a bodyguard, but that never stopped Vanaline from treating her like a servant anyway. Another way of keeping Len in her place, she assumed.
The dress draped from the ties behind the neck, down Vanaline’s front, only returning to the back just above her hips to form the skirt. It left most of Vanaline’s back exposed, and the bare, flat expanse of skin there was shocking to Len. Her hands hovered above it as she finished the ties, still not able to entirely believe it. Wingless.
All of these Mondians were wingless, yet she was expected to follow their orders as though they were her betters? She’d chosen to become a familiar to see the world, but she hadn’t realized what the cost would be. Waiting hand and foot upon this spoiled, wingless noblewoman. A contradiction that never would have existed on Syiari.
Even more contradicting was how Vanaline somehow seemed to make that service to her feel natural. Expected. Right.
“I have a meeting at council today, my pet,” Vanaline said, turning back around and placing a hand beneath Len’s chin. “I will need you at my side today, reminding all of those foolish councilmen down below where power truly lies. First, however, I would like something to soothe my nerves.”
Len looked up—for of all the cruel jokes the goddesses could play upon her, they had to make her summoner tall—and this time, the spark of defiance wasn’t entirely suppressed. “Is that an order…” A calculated pause. “...my lady?”
Vanaline’s lips quirked in the barest hint of a smile. She seemed to like those times when Len’s insubordinate nature leaked through. Len tried to tell herself that she didn’t do it for that reason. She wasn’t sure she entirely managed to convince herself.
Vanaline’s hand beneath her chin tightened to grip her face. “Why yes, little angel, it is an order.”
Len held her gaze, wondering if she should dig her heels in further, but there was only so far that a familiar could deny a summoner like Vanaline. She hated singing. Her vocal skills were far more suited to barked orders that would stop a Wingless in their tracks, to shouts which sent lancing arcs of pain through any who heard. The soft caress of lullabies and arias had never come naturally to her.
But Vanaline got what she wanted. And even if Len hadn’t been trained well, her voice carried power. She could calm with tones and harmonies if she needed to.
Taking a breath, she opened her mouth, and began to sing. It was a simple progression. She could only layer three notes atop one another, though she’d heard of anjenni who could manage four. It wasn’t comparable to the song of a seraph, of course, whose multifold tones didn’t just captivate a listener, but could fully control them.
Still, there was some small compulsion in the sound, and Vanaline closed her eyes, stepping back to let the relaxing power of the song wash over her. Len supposed that even the simplest of anjenni songs was far and away above what any Mondian singer might be able to accomplish, and Vanaline savored it.
Len breathed deeply, evenly, pouring sound and strength into her notes, trying to push further. She might not enjoy singing, but these few times when Vanaline put herself in Len’s power… that was something to be used. Not for the first time in her life, she wished she’d been born with six wings, rather than two. Oh for the ability to take hold of Vanaline’s will entirely, to finally hold true power over her…
But alas, Len’s songs had no such ability. She had to accept what power she had. Still, her song was what she had now, and she imagined it as vines ensnaring her summoner, as claws digging within Vanaline, molding her to the way Len’s song compelled her to feel. Yes, that intent was soothing, and had she sang any other compulsion, Vanaline would have cut her off and punished her. But it was some small control, and Len exulted in it.
Finally, through the tranquil haze of Len’s music, Vanaline held up a hand, and Len allowed her song to taper off. Vanaline opened her eyes once more, and the expression she fixed Len with was pleased, satisfied. Proud.
“How rapturous,” Vanaline breathed.
Len’s moment of feeling she’d had control vanished, and she stiffened again. She looked away, feeling angry at herself for getting caught up in the moment. Of course she hadn’t been in control. The noblewoman’s pet, making her mistress pleased in the ways she was commanded.
“I live to serve,” Len said flatly, trying not to grind her teeth.
Vanaline smiled, walking forward to take hold of Len’s face again. “Ah, don’t be sour, my dear. That scowl has never suited you.”
Len stiffened just slightly as Vanaline leaned down, closing the space between them. Len felt that traitorously ambivalent swirl of emotion at the kiss: anger at being used, defiance at being controlled, yet warring with pleasure, and a sickening happiness that her summoner was pleased with her. She had just closed her eyes, resigning herself to a disgusting enjoyment of the kiss, when Vanaline pulled away, leaving her both red-faced from shame and desire.
Vanaline smirked, likely knowing exactly how perfectly she’d toyed with Len. She had always been good at that. “See, now that is an expression that is far more suited to you, my pet. No more scowls, hmm?”
Len steeled herself, hating that moment of weakness, and pulled back trying to stoke what little defiance still flickered within her. She managed to meet her summoner’s eyes with some manner of strength as she evenly asked: “Is that an order, my lady?”
Despite the fact that we’re now well over a week into 2016, I have yet to finish my Christmas presents. But here’s another checked off the list, this time for @leftingimborn! Story follows my original characters, Len, Vanaline, Kasten, Corin, and Rynd, in an AU where they’re on Scadrial from Brandon Sanderson’s Mistborn series. As Fruity is a stalwart Vanalen shipper, I figured I’d give them an AU with perhaps more than a little mutual flirting, because why not. Sure.
Many thanks to @hawkeline for an excellent beta-ing.
“You look like a woman who could use a drink.”
Len looked over at the sound of a melodic voice, and saw the woman it belonged to alighting on the bar stool beside her. There was something fluid to this woman’s movements, a kind of grace that made Len wonder if she might have pewter.
“Never been one to turn down free alcohol,” Len said, looking her over.
Clad in a green silk dress with a draped neckline that could only be described as ‘plunging,’ the newcomer certainly made a striking image. Her attire didn’t draw too many odd looks, but Len supposed this establishment was a bit nicer than the kinds of dives she usually caught a drink in.
The bartender slid a pair of freshly made drinks toward them, some kind of fruity liqueur for the lady, with another glass of whiskey for Len. Len took an appreciative sip from hers, enjoying the way it buzzed on her tongue.
“So, do you have a name?” If she was being honest, Len actually just wanted to know what the woman’s game was, what she really wanted. But first things first. There were plenty who would say that Len wasn’t exactly well-mannered, but there was no reason to be outright rude to someone who’d just bought her a drink.
“Vanaline,” she said, locks of long black hair catching the light as she inclined her head. “And what would you have me call you, my dear?”
Len’s eyebrow twitched upward. Did this Vanaline know who she was, or didn’t she? “Len is fine.” She gestured to the glass. “So, what’s the reason for this, exactly?”
“As I said, you looked like you had need of it.” Vanaline gave a comforting smile, revealing perfectly white teeth. “I hate to see someone drinking alone. Wondered if, perhaps, you might want some company. I’ve been told I’m an excellent listener.”
Len chuckled, finding herself far more at ease than she’d been when she’d walked into this bar. “If you’re offering companionship, I think you’re a bit more expensive than I could manage.”
It was a bit of a shot across the bow, a dig at who this woman might be. Offense always seemed to be able to bring out some kind of truth. Sure enough, something flashed behind Vanaline’s eyes, but she hid the reaction well. If Len wasn’t so used to deciphering emotions, she probably would have missed it.
“I’ll try to take the insinuation that I’m a high-class escort as a compliment,” Vanaline said smoothly, “though I must inform you that such is not the case. What is it that you do for employment, then, Lady Len?”
“Ah, you wouldn’t want to hear about me,” Len said, taking another drink of whiskey.
“And why might you presume that?” Vanaline leaned forward, closing the distance between them. “You seem a fascinating person to me.”
“You don’t know the half of it. You see, I—” Len paused, catching her reflection in the mirror across the bar. Smiling, relaxed, entirely at ease. She found words on the tip of her tongue in answer to Vanaline’s question, and true words no less. This woman was a stranger, and yet, Len was on the verge of opening up at the simple offer of a listening ear.
Something was wrong.
Deep within, Len’s zinc flared, the warmth of burning metal sparking to life. She yanked hard on the emotions of a few of her people in the room, seizing upon their alertness, suspicion, and anxiety, Pulling those feelings to the forefront. If her suspicions were correct, she wanted backup. Outwardly, however, Len stayed composed, covering the pause as a pensive hesitation to choose her words.
“Well,” she started again, “currently, my main source of income is a bit… off the books, I suppose. No need to go into details, but one does start to pick up a few skills in my line of work. You learn there’s many ways to get what you want, you learn to read people. But most importantly…”
Len’s eyes snapped to meet Vanaline’s and she Pulled on Vanaline’s sense of fear with every bit of Allomantic power she could muster. The woman stiffened, eyes going wide under the induced shock. Len could guess that Vanaline had been feeling fairly comfortable with the conversation up to this point, but there was nothing quite like being dragged into a sudden and immediate panic out of nowhere to change something like that.
“...you learn to tell when people are trying to manipulate you.” Len’s smile twisted cruelly as Vanaline flinched.
“You're a... R-riote–”
Before Vanaline could finish her stammered statement, a hand fell on her shoulder. With Len’s Rioting tugging her fear to the forefront, she yelped, jumping at the sudden contact. What was left of the slightly relaxed feeling within Len evaporated instantly.
Vanaline’s eyes locked on the red haired man holding her, and despite the fear she was getting from Len, she managed to sneer in disgust. “Leecher,” she hissed.
Kasten, summoned by Len’s signal of Rioting his alertness, had dutifully come to see what the problem was. His chromium world have obliterated all the Allomantic metal that this Vanaline had. The sudden removal of Len’s false ease proved her suspicions correct. The woman was an Allomancer.
“Yes,” Len said. “Sorry about that, but I'm really not fond of having my emotions toyed with, Ms. Vanaline. It's a good thing brass is cheap. It is brass right? Soother?”
Vanaline watched her with a guarded expression, then inclined her head just the barest amount. “Yes, I'm a Soother.”
“Good. It's so hard to tell when all you use are those tiny little nudges.”
Vanaline was remarkably poised, considering what Len's zinc was currently still putting her through. “I see you don’t seem to share the philosophy of small nudges, yourself. For someone who claims to not enjoy having her emotions played with, Lady Len, you seem to have few qualms about doing so yourself.”
“Well, I like it when I’m the one doing it. It’s useful to me, then.”
“I’m not sure how useful such blatant emotional manipulation would be.” Vanaline carefully drew an even breath. “I already know whatever quickening my pulse may have is entirely your doing. What I’m feeling isn’t real.”
Len was disappointed in the statement, but unsurprised. She found it the great failing of her kind. Too many Soothers and Rioters were afraid to really use their powers. They scraped by with tiny taps and tugs, just little prods in various emotional directions. Always afraid they would get caught, as though the worst thing an emotional Allomancer could do was reveal themselves to their target.
So long as the target did what she wanted, Len didn’t much care whether or not they knew what she was.
“Oh, the tactic’s served me well enough over the years,” Len said. “You’d be surprised what good blatant Rioting can do. You picked a bad mark. See, I know emotional Allomancy. I know what it feels like and I know how to use it. It’s hard to cheat an opponent who is already rigging the game.”
Vanaline’s hands trembled, but she kept her expression composed. “How very honest of you. You could lay off the zinc, now that you’ve made your point, don’t you think?”
Len took a drink of the whiskey Vanaline had purchased for her, not letting up. “Not quite. We’re just getting started. It's a shame Kasten can't burn out your metalminds as well.”
Corin had appeared at Vanaline’s other side, watching Len for cues, but Vanaline hadn’t noticed him yet. To her credit, Vanaline’s face didn’t change as Len levelled the accusation, and she even managed to effect a slightly confused expression. “Metalminds? I beg your pardon? I already admitted I’m a Soother.”
“Nice try.” Len smirked at her. “Like I said, I know emotional Allomancy. And what just happened here… there was more. I trusted you. Felt like I was talking to an old friend, catching up for a chat. How did you do that?”
Vanaline smiled at her. “Just one of those faces, I assume.”
“She’s a Connector, Len.” Corin said, deciding to speak up for the first time. His interjection made the forcibly-skittish Vanaline jump again as she realized there was another person standing with them. The tan Terrisman towered over them both, looming calmly.
“Connector!” Len’s grin widened. “So that would make you... a Pacifist all together, Ms. Vanaline? A Soother and a Connector?”
Vanaline winced. “Your Terrisman is astute. Yes, I’m a Pacifist, though I’m surprised you know the name. Not many bother to learn the Twinborn combinations.”
“Every girl needs a hobby.”
“Any other secrets you wish to drag from me?”
“I can think of a few.” Len stopped Rioting Vanaline’s fear; a reward for her cooperation. She kept a few smaller tugs on the woman’s emotions, however, this time much more inconspicuous. Another perk of using an obvious Rioting: if your target thought you unsubtle, they wouldn’t be watching for subtlety.
Vanaline relaxed slightly as the unnatural terror ebbed away, though with a team of three still surrounding her, she certainly wasn't at ease. “What kind of woman brings bodyguards like this to a bar?”
“The kind who doesn't like people taking her for a mark,” Len said. She didn't feel the need to clarify that Corin and Kasten weren't exactly bodyguards.
“I assume your Terrisman here is a Brute?”
“Actually, he's the Bloodmaker.” Len leaned across the space between them, grabbing Vanaline by the shoulder. Len watched as her own arm swelled slightly but noticeably as she tapped pewter. “I’m the Brute.”
She gave a little Pull on Vanaline’s fear again, just for good measure, but kept the touch light enough that the woman would likely think it natural. One always had to be more careful with other emotional Allomancers, though. She could only get away with so much before getting caught.
Vanaline stilled. Clearly she hadn’t expected another Twinborn. “And what might it be that the three of you want with me,” she asked, locking eyes with Len, “my lady Strongarm?”
Len grinned at the use of the Twinborn name for a Rioter and Brute. So it appeared she wasn’t the only one with ‘hobbies.’ She leaned back, letting Vanaline go, and went back to storing just a touch of her strength in her pewtermind. She liked the slender look her metalminds gave while she was storing. It made people underestimate her, not see her as a threat. And it was always good to have some extra strength stored up for later.
Offhandedly, she noticed the bartender watching them, apparently trying to decide if he needed to step in. She Rioted the bartender’s sense of self-preservation and ease together, trying to keep him from interfering. This isn’t something you want to get involved in, she tried to send to him. No one’s going to get seriously hurt, so just stay out of it.
“I think we’d very much appreciate you answering that question, actually,” Len said. “What did you want from me when you came over here?”
“Just to make your acquaintance, Miss Len,” Vanaline said, too smoothly. “Someone to share a drink with, perhaps a friendly chat. I like making new friends. That’s all.”
Len all but slapped her with another flared Rioting of fear, just for a moment to make her flinch. “Try again. I don’t take kindly to being lied to.”
Vanaline glanced between Len and the two men standing to either side of her. “If I tell you, you’ll let me go?” The question indicated a non-negotiable clause in this agreement.
“Depends on the answer,” Len said. “If you’re an enemy, I’d rather not just let you walk.”
“I didn’t even know who you were before I walked over here,” Vanaline said shortly, then scowled. It was a surprisingly honest expression, the near-perfect features twisting and contorting in the quick grimace.
Len raised an eyebrow.
“Very well,” Vanaline said, though her tight tone indicated the admission made her want to grind her teeth. “We’re all metalborn here. We understand the use of powers, yes? I am... what you might call a grifter, albeit one with apparently spectacular bad luck tonight. Most nights, I choose a mark, try to get something useful from them. I came over to figure out if you had anything of value. Information, connections, money, valuables. Perhaps entice you to a bit of fun, if I could catch your interest before I left.”
Kasten made a kind of choking noise at the last bit, though Len ignored him. She leaned forward again, though this time intrigued rather than threatening. “Well, you certainly managed to ‘catch my interest,’ though perhaps not in the way you’d expected. Who do you work for?”
“No one,” Vanaline said. “Honestly. I’m entirely freelance. Going after random strangers like this is more like a hobby that just happens to pay well. I’m no threat to you, now that you’ve found me out. We’re better off just going our separate ways, laughing this off as an honest mistake.”
“No,” Len said, and this time she didn’t need to Riot the woman’s fear to see it. Vanaline truly thought she might be in danger from them. Good. “I have a better idea. How about you work for me, instead?”
“What?” Kasten said, loudly enough to draw looks from a few other patrons.
Len didn’t look at him. “Not you, Kasten. You already work for me.”
“Len,” he said, unamused. “This woman literally just admitted to trying to steal from you.”
“Yes, and she nearly did it too,” Len said. “The only reason I caught her is because I knew what to look for, as a Rioter myself, and the fact that she made me start to trust her. Of course I’d catch that. I don’t trust anyone.”
On the other side of Vanaline, Corin shook his head. “Len, I really don’t think this is a good idea.”
“It’s a good thing you aren’t in charge here, then, isn’t it?” Len went back to ignoring her companions and tipped her head at Vanaline. “So, are you interested?”
Vanaline eyed her warily. “What might be this work of yours? You didn’t get around to answering the question when I posed it.”
“A most noble calling,” Len said in mockingly grand tones. “The Survivor's own vocation.”
“Revolutionaries?” Vanaline asked, arching a perfect eyebrow.
“His earlier work, actually.”
“You're thieves, then?”
Len nodded. “And we're good ones, too. How would you like to stop seductively picking pockets and get in on a real take for once?”
“What cut of that take might you be offering?”
Len paused only a moment to find a figure. “Twelve percent, to start.”
Kasten sputtered, eyes going wide. “Twelve percent? Survivor's scars, Len. That's nearly what you're paying me, and I've worked with you for nearly five years!”
“Corin?” Len said, turning to the other man.
He gave her a look that said Don't bring me into this, but ever obediently answered: “Yes?”
“Remind me later to dock Kasten’s pay. I'm giving him far too much.”
Corin just sighed, well used to this kind of behavior from her.
Kasten meanwhile, let out a strong if creative swears and started to turn away. Two steps in, he looked back. “I hope that woman robs you blind and slits your throat for trusting her, Len. “ He stormed out, slamming the door to the bar behind him.
Vanaline watched the scene impassively, though Len was sure she was trying to decipher every word and motion she'd seen. Finally, she chose a question. “Why does he work for you if he hates you?”
Len waved dismissively. “You'll have to excuse Kasten. Death threats are simply his way of showing he cares, or some other dumb reason like that.”
Taking the joking answer without a response, Vanaline went back to considering the offer. “Let's say I'm interested. What exactly would you have me doing?”
“Same thing you're doing now,” Len said. “Turning heads, of course.” She tapped the bar counter between them to emphasize her point. “More specifically, turning them away from things we’d rather not have them see. We’ve got a job lined up. But I know for certain that if we could ensure that a certain few of the guards were distracted at a particularly opportune moment, we could run this heist quite a bit more cleanly than might otherwise be possible.”
“And the target?” Vanaline asked. “What are you trying to steal?”
“Glass,” Len said, picking up her whiskey and shaking the glass slightly, before taking a drink.
“A diamond heist?” Vanaline leaned back. “Might that not be a bit ambitious for a rookie like me? This would be my first foray into such matters.”
Len shook her head. “You won’t really be doing anything dangerous. Like I said, just keeping a few individuals distracted for us. And it’s not diamonds. Glass.”
Vanaline frowned and Len took a moment to enjoy the look of confusion before continuing.
“A pair of glass daggers, to be specific,” Len said. “Supposedly one of the pairs owned by the Ascendant Warrior, if legends are to be believed. Don’t much care for theology, though. All I know is that I’ve got a fence ready to sell them and they’d make us a neat fortune if we pull this off.”
Vanaline was trying to act as though she was still thinking this over, but Len recognized the look in her eyes. It was borne of the same desire she herself often felt, that intrigued allure that couldn’t let a good challenge sit idly by. Perhaps the kinship between them ran deeper than their similar Allomancy. The woman was hooked, Len knew. She’d take the deal.
“So this is your crew?” Vanaline sent half a glance toward Corin, then the door Kasten had stormed off through. “Three metalborn? Bloodmaker, Leecher, and a Twinborn Strongarm?”
“Four, actually. Our Coinshot’s out scouting at the moment but I’m sure you’ll get to meet her…” Len trailed off as she caught sight of a bob of brown braids flitting through the crowd. “...now, apparently. Vanaline, meet Rynd. Rynd, Vanaline.”
The team’s petite Coinshot reached their table right as Len waved her hand for the introductions. Rynd’s eyes went wide as she looked at Vanaline. “Well… hello there. Who’s this, Len?”
“New recruit. She’s going to try to help us out with the run tonight.”
Vanaline extended a hand, smiling graciously. “A pleasure, Ms. Rynd.”
Rynd whistled appreciatively, her thoughts entirely unsubtle as she took Vanaline’s hand and looked her up and down. “I’ve always said Len, but you sure know how to pick ‘em.” She grinned at Vanaline. “Honestly, I don’t even care what it is you’re going to do for us. I’m down with it.”
“Vanaline,” Len said, “is going to help you slip past the guards by offering a timely distraction, Rynd.”
“If she’s meant to be distracting, I’d say she’s doing a pretty spot-on job already.”
Alright, that’s enough of that. Len snapped in front of Rynd’s eyes, giving a quick Pull on Rynd’s embarassment. The girl stepped back, falling into a sloppy kind of attention as she blushed.
“I assume you came in here for a reason, Rynd?”
“Oh, right,” Rynd bit her lip, considering her phrasing. Her messy hair, cut to uneven lengths and scattered with braids of various thicknesses and styles, paired with her small stature, made her seem a lot younger than she truly was. “They’re getting ready to move. We’re gonna lose our window soon, so we need to go if we’re going.” She bounced on her toes as she spoke. “What’s the call, boss?”
“We’re going,” Len said firmly. “Where’s Kasten?”
Rynd laughed. “Sulking outside the door. Waiting for you, I assume.”
“Good. I assume everyone’s stocked with backup metals.” Kasten had burned Vanaline out of her supply earlier, but surely she was carrying more. “The only question remaining is this: Ms. Vanaline, will you be joining us?”
With a delicate motion, Vanaline finished off her cocktail and stood, smoothing the green silk of her dress. If she’d seemed alluring sitting down, seeing her standing was nothing short of stunning. Rynd whistled again as Corin rolled his eyes, but all Len could see was potential.
Vanaline’s gaze as she regarded Len had a confident steel behind it. “I must say, it’s a fascinating proposition. So yes, I do believe I am.”
