#vynette

[thatcutecrap]

hey all! today's illustration features Vynette 🦇 i had originally wanted to finish this by Halloween, but whatever we can just be spooky all times of the year!

[dawnberri]

my circle of dreams druid in my friend's campaign :)

[jocelyn-wellson]

Dr Hayes closed the heavy walnut door to her cherry-paneled office. She activated the magical wards - no one would hear what they would have to say. Jocelyn sat down on the leather chaise, her hair still growing, and a shy, coy smile on her face. Dr Hayes sat in her own leather office chair. She took up a glass of water, watching the young woman. Some of the tics were still there: the twitches, the hypervigilance, though she was showing signs of improvement. Of healing.

"Good afternoon, Jocelyn," she began, setting the water down and picking up her legal pad and fountain pen. "You seem... peaceful, at least more peaceful than I have ever seen you. Your skin is clearer; your weight, healthier; your hair is more uniform. Tell me about your week."

Jocelyn took a long deep breath. "Et's 'ard ta talk 'bou', doc..."

"Hard because someone doesn't want you to, or because the words are not coming?"

"A lit'le o' both," she admitted.

Dr Hayes made a quick note on her pad. She tapped the fountain pen to her lip. "What would help us talk about you this week?"

Jocelyn looked about; it was a sure sign she was uncomfortable. Dr Hayes was acutely interested, however, because she had never seen this manifestation of these symptoms with her current disposition. Jocelyn was nervous, not fearful. She made another note.

Jocelyn’s body language was obvious. She had no idea how to talk about good things occurring in her life. "I...," she began, fingers wringing. "I 'ave some people in mah life now, tho I cannae say frien's yet, I care abou' 'em."

Dr Hayes was a bit surprised, though she did not betray her thoughts. "You've met people? Shop keepers and the like? Or members of the public? Co-workers?"

"Combina'ion," she said.

"That's wonderful, Jocelyn," said Dr Hayes. She practically beamed at her patient. "What do they do?"

"Why's et mattah?"

"Just want to know who you are meeting, is all."

Jocelyn looked a trifle offended, though she entertained the question. "A stable maid, a wai'ress, an ol' lady, a saleswoman who's 'elpin' me ou' wit' a projec', an’ someone else."

Dr Hayes looked on impassively. "You are gravitating to the working class, and avoiding the criminal," she said.

"Ta th' bes' o' my thinkin'," she agreed.

Dr Hayes thought for a moment. She decided to address the largest hole in the entire list. "Who is this someone else?" she asked.

Jocelyn could feel herself flush, slightly at first and then blossom into a deep crimson. "Met a woman," she said.

"How?"

"Followin' 'er place ta place 'til she go' th' drop on me."

"That's not healthy," said the doctor.

"Nah, nah, ya go' it all wrong," said Jocelyn.

Dr Hayes gestured for her to continue, though the look on her face was one of extraordinary skepticism.

"I tol' ya... back when I firs' was firs’ leavin’ th' monestary. I called ou' fer th' Director. And all I 'eard was 'Hawke'."

The doctor nodded. "I remember."

"Foun' a lead on a person in Unit 8. Din't recognize 'er. E'eryone else di' tho. Beautiful, she is. Curves..." her fingers retraced the route they had taken the night before.

"That's fine, Jocelyn. It's the following I am worried about."

"Yea, yea. So I talk ta people 'ere, people there. Et's 'ow I met all th' people I di'. Jus' talkin', wantin' ta know my mark before'and."

"Before..."

"Before we met," said Jocelyn. She gestured at the faint roadrash covering the left side of her face. "She foun' me firs'." She chuckled.

"I see. Work related, not ... something else."

"Good Gods, I ain' tha' crazy, doc."

Dr Hayes smiled gently. "No, you are not."

Jocelyn grunted an approval. She leaned back in the chaise, leather creaking. She closed her eyes and began deep breathing.

"So what is troubling about this person?" asked the doctor, noting her breath.

Breathe in... An image of blue lips rushing to meet her own. Breathe out... Her heart, fluttering. Her body and mind, so warm. She continued to deep breathe:

"Yanno I 'ave trouble talkin' 'bou' myself, my pas'..."

The doctor nodded. She started to write, taking note of the body language and the spoken dialogue.

"Donnae wha' et was 'bou' this woman, bu' et's like I donnae go' no armor, like I..." She looked distressed, but oddly happy at the same time. "...Doc, et ain' serious. I donnae think it'll ge' serious or nothin'. Bu' in tha' momen', bein' touch'd, bein' kiss'd... I ain' le' no one do tha' in a long time, no' on tha' level.”

The doctor finished note taking. She leaned back in her chair, steepling her fingers. "Who was the person before this?" she asked.

Jocelyn bit her lip. “Please, no...” She started to breathe faster. “I cannae...” Dr Hayes reached across the coffee table just to touch the back of her patient's hand. It seemed to help calm her.

"Me dea' baby's fathah," Jocelyn said after a moment. "'e was a goo' man by rights, ‘til 'e met me, an' then 'is life fell apart. We were gon’ be married: sea commandah ‘n’ ‘is wife. An' then the life we made ... et died inside me," she said. She swiped at her eyes. "Lemme tell ya... Tha' man... 'e 'ad a way o' makin' me feel safe, like I was needed, wan'ed, impor'ant. Beau’iful. Tha's 'ow Vyn made me feel for jus' a secon'."

Dr Hayes watched her patient grab a cloth and wipe her face. She remained otherwise neutral, though supportive.

"This encounter with this woman l, this Vyn ... it made you feel important and safe?"

Jocelyn looked at her boots. "Ya lef’ somethin’ ou’... et’s somethin’ I’ve been 'earin' et all week, doc."

"What's that, precisely?"

"Tha' I'm beau’iful, doc,” she replied. Her voice cracked. "Donnae think I though' tha' in years. Til this week. An’ yanno, I felt tha' way las' nigh'."

"Did you two..."

"No, no. No' like tha'. Jus' a kiss 'n' nudge 'tween new 'quain'ences."

Dr Hayes's eyes lit, ever so briefly. "You deserve these things, Jocelyn. You do. And they're coming to you."

Jocelyn bit her lip. She looked up at the doctor. "Yanno wha'?" she asked, thinking about that wine vault she had found, the people she had met, the job she had. "I'm... I'm thiknin' yer right. These are nice things, an’ they’re 'appenin' ta me."

"To whom do you think the credit belongs?"

Jocelyn flinched. She closed her eyes. "I cannae answah tha' now, ya see."

"Why not?"

"Et's no' th' righ' time, yea?" she sounded a little peevish.

Dr Hayes nodded. "If you're not ready, let's not talk about it just yet. Deal?" The women nodded to each other, a tacit, unspoken agreement. "Now, then. What else happened this week?"

( @lovelydeadlysocialite / @zeehva @kat-hawke )

[lovelydeadlysocialite]

A Very Innocuous Stroll

One surprise Vyn appreciated about her new life was the variety of her work. Back in Silvermoon as Silhouette, her jobs often came down to killing someone or steal something. Working for SI:7 and Kat Hawke, she could spy, infiltrate, kidnap, doctor evidence. Truly, the possibilities were endless.

Today’s task was more mundane than usual, but Vyn was going to follow Kat’s orders to the letter as she always did without complaint. Today’s mission was a simple stroll, in fact. Strolling through Stormwind, smiling at the townsfolk who gave her looks; quel’dorei were not so common a sight, and Vynette would like to believe there was nothing common about her, with her light buttoned top and her short skirt swishing as she walked.

No one even paid attention to the book open in her arms. She mostly took cursory glances at the words anyway. The book only mattered as she walked along the wall surrounding the cemetery. It was important that she walked along the northern wall. The bushes here were recently trimmed, so no one should be coming to maintain them for some time. She counted bushes. One, two, three.

It was the fourth bush. Discretely, as Vynette flipped open a new page in her book, a dossier slipped out from between the pages, falling into the foliage of the bush. An indistinguishable check to her side confirmed the file landed deep enough to be concealed from sight unless someone was pushing away branches to actively search for it.

Pleased with herself, Vyn continued to read a few lines of the book she carried. Dry history was never her thing, but it was a large, thick enough book to hide a dossier. She made her way back to the office, strolling into Kat’s office.

Setting the book down on a desk, Vyn unbuttoned the top button of her shirt now that she was free from the summer weather of Stormwind. “I just had the most pleasant stroll, director.” The job was done, even if it was barely a job at all. Didn’t change that it had to be done right.

[ @kat-hawke @brian-wellson ]

[dawnberri]

[jocelyn-wellson]

“What’cha lookin’ fer, lass? Got a couple o’ Tauren up there if’fn ya wan’ —”

Jocelyn cut the old barkeep off. “Badlan’s Bourbon. No ice.” She glared at the man. “An’ no more talk ‘bou’ no damn...” She gesticulated suggestively.

“Yea, ya got it, lass,” replied the portly man. He grabbed a chipped glass from below the bar and a bottle. He moved to pour. She held out her hand and dropped a gold piece on the table:

“Reckon you’ll leave th’ res’ o’ tha’ bot’le, won’ ya?”

The barkeep eyed the coin. “Add a silver. Fer the glass yer gonna take on yer way out.”

Jocelyn did as requested, plus a couple more. The man grabbed the monies with a meaty fist and ambled away.

“Like I wan’ th’ glass,” she muttered, turning it over. She took the half empty bottle of booze and drifted out into Old Town.

She had not heard anything from the Director since that one syllable — Hawke — and that was days ago. She was concerned. Had she done something wrong? Did she fall out of favour? Did Dr Hayes lie? She pulled her shemagh tight up round her face, leaving nothing showing but her eyes. As dusk fell, she made her way to the stables — the perfect place to monitor the base. She took a swig from her bottle of bourbon and approached the stables. The woman tending the horses stopped her.

“Ya know, I can’t let ya in here, ya bum,” she said with all the authority of a fisherman in the desert.

“Bums donnae carry yer fav’rite booze, do they?” replied Jocelyn. She took the bottle out from within her cloak and swished it about before uncorking it.

“You drink it first,” said the stable woman, pointing.

“Yer too kind,” said Jocelyn before taking two large gulps.

The woman’s eyes widened. “What you want?”

“I wan’ ta stay ‘ere, yea?” Jocelyn flashed the badge she kept clipped to her belt. “Jus’ a empty stall. Can ya ‘elp?”

Within five minutes, two colts had been moved from adjoining stalls with clear sight lines toward the SI:7 main building. Jocelyn handed the bottle over. “More tomorrah where tha’ came from, luv,” she said.

“How long...?”

“Long as I need.”

“Bottle a day.”

“Deal.”

The young woman shrugged. She traded a horse’s blanket for the third of a bottle of bourbon. “Don’t want you to get cold,” she told the operative. “Outhouse is behind the stable; there’s well water just up the hillock.”

“Thank’ee,” said Jocelyn. And then she was alone.

She placed the horse blanket amidst the hay nearest the window. It was warm, though barnyardy — and not nearly as horrible as some of the places in which she had done business before. Over the next few hours, she would poke her head above the ledge every five to ten minutes; she saw nothing but the building’s dark façade. Toward the end of her watch, a tall, extremely attractive, and well-kempt female elf left the building, walking off confidently into the night. She was the only person who had done so as long as Jocelyn had been observing. A potential lead? She filed that one away.

Jocelyn bedded down shortly thereafter. A worry, heavy as it was dark, sank into her chest — a worry not for her own fate, but that the director. And that scared her most of all.

( @kat-hawke / alluded: @lovelydeadlysocialite )

[lovelydeadlysocialite]

[lovelydeadlysocialite]

Change the Narrative - Pt. I

Vyn ran her tasks through her mind yet again. There were three major tasks, and several steps in each task. Casually, she had a reputation for being flashy and thoughtless, but that was not how a professional operated and she was just that: professional. She liked creating lists. Improvisation was impossible to avoid, but she always started from her to-do list and worked from there.

Engage the target

Stow the body

Infiltrate and take care of the evidence

Sipping her sweet alcohol, Vyn shifted on the barstool and straightened out the hem of her dress. It was an unassuming tavern frequented primarily by humans. Boring, but this was not a leisure night. As a high elf, she naturally caught attention she was growing accustomed to in human cities. She made sure to temporarily tint her hair red and dot her face with false freckles. Like this, she ironically might pass more believably as the sister of a pre-void Roxlyn. Well, minus the cartoonish proportions.

Over the rim of her glass, Vyn noticed the target: Detective Jon Donson. Over a decade of experience. Annoyingly competent. By all accounts she gathered, a somewhat rigid man with strong moral foundation. Also annoying.

But a job was a job, and she could make this work. She could feel the garter holsters under her dress, though the missing weight of her familiar daggers was replaced by lighter, more awkward cylinders. Drink in hand, Vyn stood and sauntered over to the small table Donson sat at.

Naturally, the stoic man was drinking alone. He had his habits, like any person. After working late, he would indulge in a drink before returning to his family. “Excuse me, sir,” Vyn asked in a light, bubbly tone, “Are you sitting alone?”

The man looked up and gave her a once over with all the passion of a happily married man. His lack of interest was honestly a bit offensive to Vyn. “Mhmm. Just trying to enjoy a drink in peace.”

“Of, of course!” Her reply was still cheerful and despite the acknowledgement, fiddling with the bracelet on her wrist nervously. “I just overheard from the barkeep that you are a police officer?”

He eyed the barkeep. “Detective. Yes.”

“Oh, lovely! I just wanted to thank you for your service, sir.” She offered a hand and maintained eye contact. “My people have not always had the greatest fortune, but I appreciate the people who keep us all safe in Stormwind.”

Donson met her eyes and took a moment to judge them before his expression softened. “Well, you’re welcome, Miss. I just want to ensure we have law and security. Too much chaos these days.”

As Vyn pulled her hand back, she twisted her wrist slightly, positioning her bracelet so a small amount of powder slipped from a hole when she was over the man’s ale. She smiled sweetly. “Well, I know I for one can appreciate a break from the chaos. Mind if I sit with you for a few minutes?”

Vyn engaged the man in conversation, hearing about his wife and children and sharing false details about the family she lost in the fall of Silvermoon. She wanted to buy time while the powder started working its way into his system. He loosened up. His speech was less formal. Inhibitions lowering. Vyn was able to coerce him into a second drink, because she excelled when inhibitions were low.

On her way back to the table, she dosed his new drink. The fog was setting in and he failed to notice that Vyn was leaving her own drink untouched. She leaned in close to ask in a whisper if he would walk her home and keep her safe. The display might appear scandalous at a distance.

Donson’s steps out of the tavern were unsteady. His words were slurred. Convinced the man would be off his guard now, she pushed him into a secluded alley they were passing by. They were two forms in the shadows, the smaller pressed close to the larger. She made sure the hand with her syringe was hidden by Donson when she inserted it into his neck.

The detective fell against the wall and slowly lost consciousness.

“Finally.” Vyn sighed, finally relaxing and sliding against the wall to sit next to her prey. Donson had slid to the ground, making him look like a drunk perfectly suited for the alleys.

“These jobs are so much quicker when it’s just a kill.” She glanced out of the alleyway and saw the sky with no remaining signs of sunset. “I’m sure you’re not going to complain, but honestly. The stalking and the small talk and now the sneaking you out of the city. “

Vyn shook her head. “That ren’dorei woman better appreciate the effort.” Really, she didn’t care how the client felt, though no one liked ingrates. As long as her Boss approved, it was worth it.

Getting out of the city required diligence and stealth while carrying an adult man, but once she was out of the city, the trip to the mountains west of Northshire was easy.

Vyn shoved Donson off her hawkstrider, letting his body fall to the floor. (Surely an unexplained bruise would not seem out of place when she painted this as a messy bender.) She doted and ran her hand across the white feathers of her mount. “Oh, Alala, you poor thing. Carrying unappealing cargo for me and ruffling your pristine feathers. You’re such a good girl.”

After a few more minutes of giving the bird affection, she finally picked up Donson and dragged him into the hovel her Boss told her about. She had preparations ready for her arrival, knowing the detective’s stay would be an extended one.

For safety, she bound his hands and legs to the chair. She had dosed him again on the trip to ensure he did not wake up with a groggy understanding of where he was. It was enough to deliver him, but now that she could settle him in, she could make the situation more sustainable.

She set up two drips to feed into him until she could return to replace them. One was for sustenance; she went through effort to keep him alive, so it would defeat the purpose if he withered away. The second was a variation of the drug in the syringe Kat gave her. Something less immediately potent but that could be steadily fed into him, keeping him incapacitated.

Three people were working under the lead detective, but he was the one with the clearest understanding of the investigation. Not having him around would make everything easier.

With Donson taken care of, Vyn finally went through his posessions. He had a few personal effects, but more importantly, he had his identification and keys. She swiped both. (She then took his handcuffs because, honestly, who could not do with an extra set of handcuffs?)

Vyn thought back to her list and smiled:

Engage the target

Stow the body

Infiltrate and take care of the evidence

Two of three done! With her obstacle out of the way, she could finish up her mission chain and hand the situation back to Kat. She mounted Alala and turned back to Stormwind.

(Mentions for @kat-hawke and @cassielethalryn )