⏱ “Isn’t it amazing though?” She spoke slowly, not liking that she was brought out of her trance, her hazel eyes sending a small glare. “How mortals can produce such work in so little time. I feel almost cheated.”
Her hand had been buried in a pocket and brought out a pocket watch of a blue colour. Though that wasn’t the weird part. Her visible right arm, from finger tips to wrist, was all bone. “Tell me, what do you hope to achieve before your time runs out? Or perhaps why you’re here.” She already knew, but she wouldn’t just say that.
A small shiver ran down her spine and the hair at the nape of her neck stood on end. But Zyad just crossed her arms, and tilted her head, blue eyes twinkling bemusedly.
“I couldn’t agree any more.”
Now this was interesting. It’d been a long time since Zyad met someone like herself: old, old, old. She knit her brows together. Perhaps, older? Well, it wasn’t the thief’s place to prod unless it really concerned her. But her bet was that whoever the girl in front of her was, was some sort of reaper type. Much too grim and too blunt, she remembers from past experiences. Still amusing to poke fun to, though.
Zyad shrugged with a grin.
“Strange question to ask someone. But…” She tapped a finger and looked up at the ceiling. “I haven’t exactly thought that far into the future. However, I was here to appreciate some art. And then grab a bite afterwards. Wanna join me?”
The trip to the art museum was supposed to be simple and fun, a quick walk-around to case the entire the building, and, well, choose which artwork she’d be picking up later tonight.
But it was hard to appreciate or sketch much of anything with this stranger constantly standing in front of a prime candidate painting.
And the thief swore the stranger was doing this on purpose.
This is ridiculous, thought Zyad who finally got up from her seat and tapped the person’s shoulder.
“Excuse me. You’ve been standing there for a while, and while I understand this place houses many beautiful attractions,” a small smirk tugged at the corner of her lips, “I can’t quite tell if you’re trying to become one of them.”
(Zyad)
The party is elaborate and bright and drowned in a myriad of colors and dye; for it suits no other than its ostentatious host, Sir Norville Landris, who wears rings on all ten fingers, and dresses in the most colorful, expensive outfits.
It is a charity, of course, and the proceeds go to an obscure and wealthy organization that only serves itself.
Entering was the easy part, for Zyad just had to disguise herself as one of the servants waiting on the many nobles who could care less for her presence. The thief had an agenda to follow, an all too simple heist that should go smoothly. But who knew she would run into a familiar face so shortly acquainted with during her stay in Derun City?
"A glass of champagne, my lady? Perhaps a knife as well, since I can think of no conceivable way to hide your swords in that dress of yours."
If the famed assassin was here, then there is no doubt that something exciting will take place here soon, and Zyad wants to be nowhere near her when that happens.
Though, what harm can be done with just a little teasing before Iolar finds her quarry?
(Shadow)
The grand-master was invited to this party. Merely because she was indeed a noble and, of course, she pulled a few strings.
The assassin found little joy in this party, nor did she in noble politics. But she had her mission, her target.
You could imagine her surprise when a familiar face appeared.
"You would be surprised what one could hide in her skirts. They can be quite efficient at hiding things I find. But yes, I'll take a champagne." She took a glass from her tray and took a sip.
"I assume you haven't settled down to an actual job, so what is your plan? Rob every noble one by one after you get them drunk with your wares? Steal things from the house? Or are you after something specific? "
The assassin returned her attention to her glass and sipped again waiting for Zyad to answer.
(Zyad)
Zyad merely grins, her mirth much more genuine than what she showed to the other nobles.
“Nosy, aren’t we? But you’re not wrong.” Her eyes shift from side to side before lowering her tone to the assassin.
“Norville has… something in his study that I want.” A shrug. “Of course, jewelry and coin purses are an added bonus, but,” she sighs, “not as important.”
With all the nobles walking around flaunting their wealth, how can Zyad not be tempted to pinch a coin or two or three from each person?
“What about you, Iolar? Hopefully you didn’t have to dirty your hands to get in here. After all, someone of your caliber doesn’t simply strut around this sort of place without having business to take care of.”
A grand gala like this was actually the last place Zyad imagined the assassin to be at. Well, someone important must’ve pissed her off greatly.
(Shadow)
"Norville eh? I'm sure he has more than one object of interest in his study. Me? Get my hands dirty? No way. I pulled a few favors and reminded people I was an unwed estate owner with quite a lot of wealth. Can't you see the looks some younger gentlemen are flashing in my direction?"
The assassin finished her glass and placed it back on the tray.
"I can tell you this. My plans don't commence till much later and I am out of this dress. But I can assure you Norville will have much bigger problems than you stealing some things."
Shadow fixed her dress before she spoke again. "I would love to chat but the dancing will begin soon and I am to dance the first two with Norville's eldest son." The assassin sighed. "How exhilarating. I have been asked by a few men at this stage that I don't think there will be enough dances to accommodate them. I would much rather run off."
The assassins face lit up when an idea popped into her head. "Meet me on the second floor hallway after the fifth dance, and I can get you the key to his safe."
(Zyad)
A bemused smirk curled at the corner of Zyad’s lips. It seemed the assassin is much more resourceful than what she thought.
She nearly rolls her eyes.
“I’m pretty sure wealth isn’t the only thing that’s attracting them to you.”
The thief long since noticed the lustful gazes given to Iolar, and the ones full of contempt reserved for herself because why is a mere servant garnering the attention of someone like Iolar? And as ignorant as Zyad wanted to be, the whole situation was just too damn hilarious.
She quirks a brow.
“Oh no,” she drawls bemusedly, her eyes glinting with mischief. “The consequences of being both rich and beautiful. How tiresome.”
Zyad was about to leave with another snarky quip, but stops when she hears the words “key” and “safe,” her mouth now pursed and eyes slightly narrowed. If the assassin was offering her an easier way to access Norville’s collection, she’ll take it.
“Fine,” she finally articulates, and against better judgment.
Zyad gives a small bow.
“Until then, Lady Iolar.”
(Shadow)
The grand-master courtesies politely in return.
Just as Zyad left, the music began.
The assassin huffed and fixed her expression into a smile. Just as promised, Norville's son approached her for the first dance. It was a common dance, though Shadow could not remember the name of it now.
There must have been twelve sets of dancers in the hall. The ladies on one side, the gentlemen on the other. They bowed before it truly commenced.
"You spent a lot of time conversing with that servant. That sort of carry on is condemned here," he spoke as they graced the dance floor.
"Well, I hardly was going to go to the wine cellar myself to get something a bit stronger. The champagne is not quite to my taste."
Norville's son wasn't that bad looking in comparison to her other suitors, maybe even handsome and also a bit more lean than them. He seemed kind and gentle. But then so would any gentleman trying to woo a girl for her fortune.
"You don't like the champagne?" He inquired.
"I do not like champagne in general, sir. Never took my fancy." With her current cover it made it very hard for the assassin to really do anything. Everyone was watching them. Or at least watching her.
The fact she rarely showed her face at court seemed to make the older generation very skeptical. The generation with unmarried sons, however, didn't even doubt for a second. I think they are forming a queue.
"There are quite a lot of young gentlemen here tonight; not enough lady partners." The assassin spoke, making small talk to make the whole situation less awkward.
"I'm not going to lie, milady, but I think they are here for you. News got out an unmarried lady with great wealth was coming. So, all the lords in the area came rushing in. No one knew you would also be so pretty". He pulled her close to him so their faces were inches apart.
She gasped.
Nice work, Shadow. Instead of making things less awkward you made them more awkward. She quickly twirled away as the dance demanded.
That was only the first dance.
(Zyad)
Had the gala been in a bigger and more open venue, Zyad would have easily slipped back into the crowd. Yet, this was not the case. For no sooner had she stepped away from Shadow, a small group of noble sons approached her, their faces pulled taut with distaste.
“Servant-boy, explain to me why you took up so much of Lady Iolar’s precious time,” one with strikingly red hair said with a sneer.
Zyad internally grimaces. And even though she would love to stab him with a fork, she still has a charade to put up.
“Lady Iolar was curious about the state of the alcohol Master Landris is serving at the party, and inquired if I could, perchance, conjure something much stronger than this champagne,” Zyad replies innocently, and in a slightly lower pitch. “However, as much as this household prides itself with the finest of wines and other strong spirits, I had to explain to her that such drinks were reserved for Master Landris’s personal use.”
The noble scoffs and rolls his eyes, while the others who were following him looked impatient and frustrated as they found no fault in Zyad’s answer.
“Now, if you’ll excuse me, gentlemen, I cannot be an idle servant for too long.”
Zyad leaves before they can say another word and before they become suspicious of her being.
She heads down the length of the room towards the food table and trades her empty drink tray for a full one, aware that the first dance had ended.
This left her to listen to the idle chatter and laughter of the other guests as she wanders carefully around the dance floor, hoping to pick up any useful bits of information. But none really left their mouth.
She rolls her eyes when another noblewoman mentions a cheating relative.
Waiting is really no fun. So, she steals a glance at Iolar and nearly spills the drink tray from laughter.
Zyad has never seen a person so distressed as the assassin is now.
“We should probably go help her out, huh, Iko?” the thief mutters underneath her breath, and the lizard responds with some squirming in her pocket.
Zyad keeps her eyes on Iolar and Norville’s son as she circles the dance floor, watching their routine closely. She hands a few drinks to a group standing near the edge, drops her tray off to the food table, and then slows her walk towards the very same group.
She waits until Norville’s son guides Iolar to the edge of the dance floor, where Zyad then smoothly trips an unlucky guest who was nearing the group of nobles holding full glasses of champagne.
There are shatters, gasps, and most importantly a drenched and red-faced son.
Other surrounding servants are quick to respond to the situation. So is Zyad.
As the other servants attend to the son brimming with anger, Zyad proffers a small towel and a subtle sly smile to the assassin.
“I hope you are unhurt as well, Lady Iolar.”
(Shadow)
"I am sure to survive this ordeal," the assassin replied, trying her best to hide the smile on her face as she took the towel.
"Now, now. Give him some space he hasn't been shot," Iolar added as she brushed down herself and her dancing partner. "It appears our routine has been cut short, but I'll be sure to be waiting for your return, my lord." With that final statement, she courtesies and turns to leave.
Meanwhile, she could hear Norville's son scrambling behind to run and get changed.
At one of the tables she could see Lord Norville was entertaining some guests. As expected, when she approached, the gentlemen almost tripped over themselves to offer her a seat. She sat closest to Norville as she could.
What she was after, she might not need to go to the study. It might be on his person. But nonetheless, she needed to get the key.
"I sure should go out more," Lady Iolar said. "I do miss the excitement of a ball!"
(Norville Landris)
"And society misses how you grace us with your presence!" At that, Sir Norville bursts into laughter, his raucous voice echoing to the ends of the entire room.
"After all," he begins while roughly taking Iolar's hand. "One with beauty, such as yours, should be displayed to the whole world." And he kisses her knuckles with shameless gaiety.
"So what brings you to my table, Lady Iolar? Has one of my sons caught your eye? Or..." his eyes darken and his voice lowers conspiratorially, "have you come to discuss about the other matter that I've yet to hear your response on?"
(Shadow)
"You are too kind, sir." The assassin smiled, tapping the empty glass on the table, a symbol for a servant to fill it. With her hand quickly pulled away, Shadow found it hard not to tense up and pull it back, so she let him have it.
"I never quite caught your eldest son’s name, for our set was cut short. I haven't danced with all of them yet. In fact, I came to sit down and rest. I have plenty of dances to get through, it seems. And I'm sure every gentlemen on this table has a son who requested my hand in a dance."
The assassin took a sip of her drink.
"As for that matter," Iolar sighed. "You don't look like a military man milord. So, let me give you sound military advice. I believe it is unwise to go after them, the dragon holders, for they would have even more reason to go after us. If we kill them, they would use their superiority to kill even more of us. It would be entering a losing fight. I don't want to give them a reason to come after me and kill me or my future family. As I see it, current relationships with them aren't so bad. If we leave them alone, they leave us alone.”
“I will help you defend against them, but hunt them I shall not."
Shadow smiled after her speech.
"Now, now, Mr. Norville. Let's not spoil a party with talk of business. Look, your son returns."
(Norville Landris, Fredrick Landris)
Norville looked a touch disappointed at Iolar’s response. But he recovered with a smile that hid secrets.
“A shame, Lady Iolar. You could have benefited much more than you can imagine from this endeavor.”
Just as his son approaches the table, Norville stands while resting his hands at the lapels of his bright-colored jacket, and the son looks at him confused.
“Forgive me, father,” the son begins, but Norville places a hand on his shoulder, dismissing the apology altogether.
“Lady Iolar, this is my eldest son and heir to the Landris household, Fredrick Landris,” and Fredrick bows slightly.
Suddenly, a servant comes up to Norville and whispers in his ear. Whatever the message was, it did not bode well, for Norville’s countenance began to twist into anger.
“Now that you too have been reacquainted, please excuse me. It seems there is something that requires my attention.”
There is a beat of silence as Fredrick nervously runs his hand through his hair, the earlier air of bravado dissipating the moment his father pointed out his faux pas, and in front of Lady Iolar no less.
“Lady Iolar,” he finally says, determined to regain his former confidence. “May we continue where we left off?” And he offers her his hand.
(Shadow)
Iolar watched Mr. Norville's reaction to the message with great interest. She could not make out the dialogue, but clearly something was wrong.
This distraction delayed her response. "Yes of course. I couldn't be happier to dance with you again, Fredrick." She took his hand and her smile grew as she looked into his eyes.
The assassin decided that the best way to get into Norville's office is to give Fredrick the wrong impression. She did not yet know how far she would have to go, but whatever it takes, she will do. Something more was happening here, and she must find out.
They took their places again as the music played for another dance.
"So, you are the heir to the Landris household and fortune? I assume you have had plenty suitors thrown into your path just like I have."
"Indeed, but Lady Iolar," he pulls her close to him whispering in her ear. "You are by far the most beautiful creature that graced this earth."
Like before, she had to stop herself from cringing. She must play along.
"Is that so?" She replied in the same fashion. "Well you better not lose sight of me then."
The next part of the dance was a solo piece for all the ladies. All eyes were on her as she twirled and danced around the hall, but she kept her eyes on Fredrick and only him. She was like a predator and he was her prey.
When she returned to his arms, a devilish grin grew on his face. He was handsome and maybe a bit flirty. Shadow knew damn well he had many ladies wrapped around his finger, a player and a user.
"I think we should get to know each other better."
(Fredrick Landris)
Fredrick’s eyes flashed with great interest and lust, which he hides all too quickly behind a brilliant smile.
As expected of any lady, Iolar was much too easy to swoon. She’s beautiful, she’s rich, and hopefully she’ll be better in bed than on the dance floor. But despite that, she’s truly a prize to be won.
“Certainly, Lady Iolar. Perhaps we could speak somewhere quieter. And I happen to know the perfect place.”
Before the next dance, he leads her by the hand, weaving through the crowd of people as discreetly as possible, until they are in one of the many halls in the manor.
“My father’s study has an extensive collection of beautiful artwork from across the world. And,” he chuckles, “a more prominent selection of alcohol.”
He unlocks and opens the door to the study.
The walls are lined with various books, maps, old oil paintings, and decorative, foreign weapons. In the foremost back is a grand, hand-carved wooden desk; to the left side of it, a tall, glass cabinet holding a multitude of bottles of liquor.
“Do take your time perusing the room, while I go pick out our poison for the evening.”
(Shadow)
The assassin searched for Zyad in the crowd. However, it seems her friend had left the party early. Shadow pulled up her skirt to move faster.
When he announced their destination, Shadow nearly broke character.
The room was indeed quite a spectacle. She couldn't help but approach one of the swords. The assassin ran her finger across the blade. She cut her finger, surprised the blade was still sharp.
The assassin clasped her hands behind her back and walked towards him.
"I know what you want. You'll have to try a bit harder than that to get it."
He turned around to face her. The new challenge played on the corner of his lips as he poured two glasses out onto the table.
(Fredrick Landris, Zyad)
“Whatever do you mean, Lady Iolar?” Fredrick asks behind an innocent smile. “All I want is to have a conversation and a drink with you.”
He takes the two glasses, settles on the couch, and offers one of them to Iolar.
“So… How well do you know your wine?”
*20 glasses later of various alcohol*
“I’m impressssed,” a red-faced Fredrick says. His eyes are half-lidded as he hiccups through a droopy smile. “Not many ‘ave tasted Gold Amber Liquer. There’sss only been few bottles made… I think.”
He rubs his head in the palm of his hand.
“Do you feeeear,” he looks at the ceiling through squinting eyes, “plaguesss, Iolar?” And he lolls his head to get a better look at her.
“I heard there’sss one running rampant through thisss city in the form of a perssson.” Fredrick makes an indignant snort at that.
“A ssstupidly, brave thief haunting just the noblesss ‘n stealing from them.”
He chuckles.
“But don’t worry. ‘Caussse I’ll–“
Fredrick’s sentence is cut short when he’s suddenly knocked out by a familiar-looking servant.
“Ah-ah,” Zyad says while catching the falling glass from Fredrick’s hand.
She sets it aside on one of the nightstands then looks back at Iolar, blinks once, twice, then breaks into a wide smirk.
“You’re drunk, aren’t you?”
(Shadow)
"I didn't even get to kiss him," the assassin announced disappointingly.
"Of course I’m not as sober as... as... as a newborn babe."
She got up and stumbled forward.
Although she was not as drunk as him, she still was extremely tipsy.
She finished her glass and placed it roughly back on the table. It leaned off the edge nearly ready to fall.
Finally, she made her way over to the desks and pulled out a drawer and started going through the letters.
(Zyad)
“Really now? I wouldn’t have guessed that at all,” the thief jokes.
She searches Fredrick for anything useful, but all she finds is a few coins and jewels, which she pockets anyway.
Then she heads over to the desk as well, running her hands on the underside of it and its drawers.
“Tsk,” she says with a frown. There was nothing.
Zyad taps her finger against her chin as she scans the whole desk.
There were more documents, a placard, exquisite feather pens, a jewelry box, an empty chalice– she carefully grabs the chalice and finds a small key underneath the base of the cup.
“Look what I found,” she says to Iolar with a cheeky grin, while holding up the key.
“Now, Fredrick wouldn’t happened to have told you where the safe was, did he?”
(Shadow)
"Excellent work, detective! It's another clue to solve our crime."
The assassin reached under the table and pushed a button.
"He may have said something of the sort."
A passage opened in one of the walls leading down a narrow corridor to a secret room.
"You go! I'll stay. Keep Fredrick company."
She moved to sit on his lap.
(Zyad)
“Well, your loss then!” The thief said while putting on her mask and hood. “Don’t get too comfy while I’m gone.”
With that, she followed the winding hall to the very end until it opened up to a much larger room covered in velvet drapes and light-gray stone. And one by one she lit the small lamplights and torches scattered along the walls.
There were display cases littered around the room full of multiple antiques and other gold cast or jewel covered items, each shimmering with bright lustre. Zyad would have definitely taken each item and simply gone away with it, but… She looks at the large painting obviously hiding Norville’s safe. She has other things to attend to.
Her gloved fingers run over the length of the frame. The painting wasn’t hanging loose, so there should be a mechanism…
Ah, here it is; and the painting swings slightly onto the side, revealing the key-locked safe.
Once she unlocks it, there are stacks of gold, bags of diamonds and jewelry, and a pile of papers.
She quickly sifts through the papers, which the first few were mostly correspondences between Norville and the government and other companies largely dealing in blackmail and bribes. Zyad nearly loses her patience before finding what she needed: two lists of names and a map.
She takes those three and a small bag of stones.
“Are you ready to leave, Iolar,” Zyad says the moment she returns to the study. “’Cause I sure– “
The thief’s eyes go wide as she hears heavy footfalls echo from the main hallway.
“Shit.”
She runs towards Iolar, locks her arm behind her, and then lightly holds a knife to her throat.
“Hope you’re sober enough to play along,” Zyad whispers quickly.
(Shadow)
"Of course," she whispered back, shaking her head trying to sober up a bit.
She pretended to struggle, obviously not trying too hard as even in this state she could be out in seconds.
Norville turned into the study and shock was painted all over his face. His guards were armed and tense in stance. They had their guns trained on Shadow and the girl.
"For pity’s, sake lower your guns. Lady Iolar cannot be harmed." He looked to his son who was still unconscious. "Definitely not."
He returned his gaze to Zyad.
"Thief, you have bitten off more than you can chew. Now, let Lady Iolar go and give back what you stole. Harm her, and I'll kill you. Leave, and I'll gift you with your life."
(Zyad)
“Sir,” one of the guards speak up. “That’s Plague. The one who killed Sir Vyre and Lady Mazul.”
Norville’s face suddenly goes pale as he clenches his jaw. He finally recognizes the mask.
And Zyad just chuckles at his reaction.
“At least one of you has some common sense here,” she sneers. “Be glad you get to live another day, Norville. But mark my words when I say that you and your cohorts are forever haunted by me.”
As Zyad speaks, she takes a few small steps backward with Iolar, then whispers, “Hold your breath,” and with one swift motion she lightly pushes Iolar away while throwing smoke bombs at the feet of Norville and his guards.
There’s sounds of coughing, a crash, and Norville wheezing out, “Don’t shoot, you fools!” to the unaffected few who raised their weapons. And in the distance, there could be heard the fading gallop of a horse.
Once most of the smoke settled, Norville saw the huge, gaping hole in his now broken window. But the damage was the least of his worries, for he saw the door to his secret vault wide open. Yet as much as he wanted to run inside and see what was stolen, he was still in the company of Lady Iolar and must put on his public face.
“Lady Iolar,” Norville says, walking towards her with whatever dignity was left. “Are you unhurt?”
(Shadow)
Plague? The assassin tossed the word around her mind a bit as she waited for the smoke to disperse. The assassin was familiar with these, a common friend to hers when she needed a quick exit. She had heard the name before, hushed whispers in the streets, now she knows the face to the name, to her target.
Zyad, why did it have to be you?
She returned to her previous, “distressed” state.
"I'm unharmed. But Fredrick!"
Shadow moved over to the chair, pretending to show she cared for his well-being.
"I'm sorry, my lord. I couldn't stop her. I have rethought the proposition in joining you, and I think I will. It's the only way I can repay you for my failures."
At this stage all the assassin wanted to do was get out of the place, but she had to make sure the fish was on the hook before she reeled in the line. A position in his group would surely give her advantage in the long term. She could always be a step ahead and make sure they never get too powerful. And as a main source of income, she would have Norville wrapped around her finger and powerless.
(Norville Landris)
“Her?” Norville questions. He runs a hand through his hair and laughs lightly. “Seems that we can finally put that debate aside.”
Information on Plague was scarce amongst the dragon-hunters. Other than knowing that Plague was a thief, and now recently a killer of their order, nothing significant nor her past was dug up by their spies. Well, at least they can now establish that Plague is female. And…
Norville’s eyes shift towards the distressed lady.
Lady Iolar may be able to provide some more information.
“Get a doctor in here,” he orders one of the guards. “And get some people to start cleaning up this mess.”
He moves towards his son and Iolar, and places a gentle hand on her shoulder.
“Lady Iolar,” he begins with much concern in his voice. “This was not your fault. You were merely a defenseless victim when this all happened. However…” and his eyes begin to sparkle. “If you do truly wish to join our order of hunters, not only will you be more protected, you yourself will be able to stop these vagrant criminals.”
Not to mention her money and social stature will definitely boost the hunters’ morale.
“I will certainly send a letter detailing specifics of where our next meeting is, should you wish to learn more. But for now,” and he pulls her to the side as the doctor begins to examine Fredrick, “stay a little longer; eat and drink something to ease your mind of this predicament. After all, like you said, talk of business does spoil a party mood.”
(Shadow)
The assassin moved with him, a gentle smile pulling at her lips.
"I would be grateful." She added to the response to her place in the order.
She looked back at Fredrick as the doctor cared for him. She wondered if he would remember what had happened or if it would be a blur.
"I really should not trespass further on your hospitality. But if you insist. However, I do think I have had quite enough to drink. Do you dance, my lord?"
AN: This is a compiled, plotted thread I have going on with @shadow-the-assassino. The whole purpose of this post is for archiving purposes and because I like to show off my rp partner’s and my hard work @w@. The premise of this thread is that everyone is born with an animal companion, and that there are a select few who have dragons as companions. Shadow and Zyad are one of the few. Stay tuned for danger, adventure, drama, and near death experiences!!!
(Zyad)
As the scent of alcohol accompanies the boisterous laughter of several drunkards, the corner of Zyad’s lips quirk upward into a small smile. There's just something about stepping into a tavern that leaves her equally refreshed and excited. For here, there are different people with different trades and companions, new faces who'll forget her very own once they walk out the door, and most importantly, fresh targets. Or in this particular case, the rumors and whispers surrounding potential ones.
She traipses from each floor of the tavern, dressed as a boater escaping the midnight chill and with half a mug of jasper brandy grasped in one hand; the other occasionally taking a coin or two from unfortunate passerby who cross her path. And she'd continue traversing from one end of the room to the other, listening to bits of gossip until the words “gala” and “showcase” and “art” were filtered through the rest of the noise, making her stop and casually lean back on a post to take a swig of her drink, all while overhearing every detail that had to be offered.
Yet Zyad, self-proclaimed “infamous, elusive thief” is oblivious to the fact that she had caught the eye of a certain person who watched her every move intently.
(Shadow)
Shadow sat at her usual table, the one in the corner. The hunter was not extremely keen on drink but came to taverns often to seek out new information, targets and just to observe. Maybe she liked to drink a little after some hard missions. She wasn't disturbed there by anyone; the only thing she received were the odd, nervous glances of a server maid.
This tavern is one you never want to draw too much attention to yourself. You either were feared, threatened, or killed. It's best to stay on the feared list. Many unsavory characters come to this tavern. The kind Shadow has pleasure in killing. Did she look that intimidating? I suppose being clad in black robes wearing a hood and armed with knives who have seen many victims, and having a companion of a merciless peregrine falcon, it's not hard to guess why people are afraid.
The assassin never had much table manners and that was evident here as she rested her heels on the table, lazily watching the crowds of people waiting for something interesting to happen.
So it was that something had caught her eye. This girl making her way around the tavern pick pocketing unlucky victims. Such ease and skill. Shadows assumptions were that she was a petty thief but even they wouldn't be this good. They wouldn't be this efficient. Shadow could even see the vantage points she used to eavesdrop into conversations. Definitely someone I need to keep an eye on.
Ah of course who came to crash the party only some palace guards who marched into the tavern. How brave of them to come in here, how foolish of them. It must be something important to bring them in here. They headed straight for the new mysterious girl.
(Zyad)
It was not until the chatter of the other patrons quieted to a hushed muttering and the air turned deathly cold did Zyad pay heed to the oncoming palace guard brigade.
“Evenin’ gentleman,” she says once they are in front of her. But her smile does not reach her eyes. “You got a problem with me?”
“You know what the problem is,” the leader retorts. He is thick and sinewy with roughened skin that's decorated with creases and scars, and his animal-companion, a growling bulldog, stands beside him. “My brother's stuff's been taken. And you fit his description perfectly.” He spits at her feet, then points his sword to her throat, the others following his lead and drawing their weapons. "Now hand over whatever you stole and this won't have to get ugly."
Zyad's eyebrows furrow as she exchanges a glance between the blade and the stupidly brave guards standing in a den of vipers.
"Please," she breathes out as she carefully sets her mug on a nearby table, crossing her arms soon after. For a moment, all the onlookers think they might have a free show of a thief pleading for her life.
"I doubt this situation could become uglier than your face."
(Shadow)
As soon as the swords were out Shadow was up on her feet. Quietly making her way over to the guards who didn't notice her coming. For someone with swords to her throats the thief is being very brave saying smart comments like that. She must have had near death experiences before. Shadows previous guess is correct this stranger is much more than a petty thief.
The assassin was inches away from the main guard, her falcon above in the rafters.
"She has a point." Shadow grinned showing her teeth, but her hood hid the rest of her face. "If I were you I would cease your convictions in retrieving whatever stolen objects this… petty thief has taken. I don't like trouble in this tavern and you sure don't want to make even more of a fool of yourself."
The guard’s only response was a grunt and remained firm in his position, but his true feelings were portrayed on his conflicted face.
"Besides you mustn't be that great of a guard if something got stolen, and also who exactly is guarding your master while you go on your little adventure to chase down his lost treasure?"
One thing Shadow learned is that when people are angry they can't fight effectively. She was trying to get him angry and he almost is outraged. The only problem this has is if he strikes the stranger and not her. Time shall tell in his response as for now he was visibly fuming.
"This is none of your business." He scoffed.
"Ah, but it is now since you disturbed my peaceful observations. Why don't we take this outside and I can show you just how much of this is my business. Just because you can't do your job doesn't mean you should kill someone," Shadow replied sarcastically.
It was then he whipped around, pointing the sword at Shadow’s abdomen, the two other guards attention still focused on the thief. His face twisted into a confident grin.
"I know you. Well, I know the stories and all you are is a cold-blooded killer. Don't lecture me, you criminal."
The assassin laughed again "Oh no! You got me there. You just proved I'm really efficient at my job, and if you don't step back from that girl I'll give you a demonstration."
(Zyad)
Zyad snorted in sheer amusement once the now-revealed “killer” and the guard finished their banter with one another.
Sure, Zyad didn’t know who the girl in the hood was, but the thief knew when a person simply emanated “threat” and to stay far away from them as possible. However, with the way things are now, maybe a little help wouldn’t hurt from a fellow criminal, for the crowd already encircled them and blocked all the escape routes she previously planned to take.
The guard was highly livid with each word the assassin quipped back at him; and though the thief did not know her helper’s true intentions, she would do what she knew best: to adapt.
“If we’re placing bets, then I‘m putting mine on her. ‘Cause I’m pretty sure you just pissed your pants when you realized who she was,” she pointedly said to the red-faced guard.
He visibly tenses, his eyes shifting towards the thief, but his blade still trained on the assassin.
“Wow,” Zyad drawls. “I can already hear the people whispering about a failed guardsman who soiled his pants while attempting to fight a killer in a shady tavern.” She leans slightly forward, her arms loosely crossing over herself. There’s a glint of deviousness in her eye and a smile to go with it as she continues her mockery.
“You’d be the laughing-stock of this city by the morrow.”
Various, quiet snickering echoed throughout the building as the guard’s own lips twitched into a snarl while his knuckles turned white.
The thief saw the strike before he even roared his raging battle-cry. He diagonally slashed downward, the screech of metal upon metal ringing sharply when his sword was blocked by what looked like a small, gray cane that Zyad had deftly taken from her person. And the split second of momentary confusion that showed on the guard’s demeanor was more than enough for Zyad to bring her blunt weapon straight across his jaw and kick him back to the two other guards.
The thief shoots the assassin a quick, cheeky grin, while twirling the dark gray rod. “Keep up, will ya?”
(Shadow)
Shadow was surprised to say the least by the stranger’s actions. They were rather quick for a civilian, nearly as quick as hers. I think her surprise was most evident from her facial expression with raised eyebrows and a smirk.
The phase passed quickly when she turned to the guards who were now poised and ready for attack. "I don't think we will be able to leave till these fellows are incapacitated." She directed to the stranger.
"Now what do ye say die now or live to fight another day?" The assassin grinned as she unsheathed her twin calcattas. Their responses were weary grunts and strengthening of their positions.
"Very well then, don't say I didn't give you a choice."
The guards charged forward but their strikes were slow and wide and easily blocked. One of the weaker guards was struck down by being impaled in the back after the assassin blocked his strike.
"Anytime you feel like it, you can join me so I can get you out of here before reinforcements arrive."
(Zyad)
When the assassin killed one the guards, Zyad quickly fanned her weapon to the temples of the remaining one, promptly striking his ribs and shoulder afterwards. His distractedness had cost him severely and she watched as his body fell to join the others.
"Last time I checked," she sheaths her metal yantok, "I'm the one who had to attack first to get you to join me in the fight," she winks at the assassin. "But do lead the way. This city's streets are still unfamiliar to me."
Until the thief was far away from the people she stole, she'd have to rely on the assassin. For now.
(Shadow)
"Let's not get too caught up in the details." The assassin chuckled a little. She proceeded to wipe the blood off the swords onto the guards on the floor, then sheathed them when satisfied.
"I have a horse out back. Let's leave before this gets worse."
Shadow turned to go pushing her way through the crowd to get to the stalls out back. Following behind was her animal companion, Aldmari, following overhead.
Reaching outside there was the horse tied up exactly where she left him. She untied him and mounted up. "Now you can either steal a horse and draw more attention to yourself or just ride with me."
(Zyad)
Zyad was grateful to be away from the prying eyes of the other patrons in the tavern. The stir she caused here would spread whispers about her presence within the city, no longer leaving her obscure from the different factions and other thieves. It would be another problem she'd begrudgingly have to work around.
As she follows the assassin through the crowd, she taps one of her inner-coat pockets, making sure her little companion, Iko, was still snug inside. His head peeking out a moment later was all the affirmation she needed.
Once they're outside, the thief eyes the other horses in the stall, biting her lip while internally debating whether or not she should steal one on account of the assassin's quip. The owners could always replace it. But then again...
Zyad shrugs, a sigh following after it. "I think I had enough attention for tonight." She helps herself onto the horse and sits behind the assassin.
"So... Where are we going?"
(Shadow)
The assassin squeezed her heels and the horse walked onto the street. It was a glamorous part of the town and the streets were dirty, thanks to the contents of the chamber pots being thrown onto them, just like the people who walked them.
"Where prying eyes don't look, somewhere the guards won't look. They call it 'Death Alley' but really it's perfectly safe, safer than that tavern even. Well, safe for a person like me. It's the perfect place to escape guards as the city folk fear it from the stories told about it."
The poor patrons evaded their path left and right, shooting glares at the hooded rider and her female companion. People were always curious, too curious, too nosey, too interested in everyone else's business.
That's one thing that annoyed Shadow- the gossip, oh people would kill for that. None of which affected her or which she cared for in the slightest.
"Where is your companion? That's mine." The assassin signaled up to the falcon. "Aldmari." The falcon cawed ((I don't know what sound it makes??)) in response to hearing its name and merely circled the sky above, the pace of the horse appearing too slow for her.
(Zyad)
The pungent smell of the streets mixed with peering eyes that often looked their way instinctively made Zyad pull her collar closer to her face and her cap further down her eyes. It seems that the cold, night air wasn't the only thing causing goosebumps to crawl all over her dark skin.
But her silent snickering at the assassin's mention of such an innocuous name (for “Death Alley” was nowhere near intimidating to the thief) left her forgetting the wind's bite for just a moment. If it is indeed safe for a trained killer, then it is even better for an unsuspecting thief. However, she’ll make no mention of that to the assassin. She might need the leverage later on.
"What a beautiful bird," the thief mutters as she glances at the hawk gliding overhead. "Mine's in my coat po–”
Abruptly, she shudders.
“Never mind. He’s on my neck now.” The blue-tailed lizard continues to climb upwards until he’s resting on top of Zyad’s cap.
“Hope your companion isn't hungry 'cause Iko's a rather eye-catching lizard,” she jokes offhandedly with the barest of smiles curling at her lips.
“You know, I never did thank you properly for helping me back there. So uh… thanks. For not letting me die.”
(Shadow)
Shadow glanced back to see the lizard on top of the strangers head.
“Indeed a very eye catching lizard. It's nothing really. I like to spice up my evenings every now and then. No matter who you are or what you've done I can guarantee I hate the city guards more.”
The horse’s hooves echoed through the streets as they went deeper into the suburbs. The streets seemed to have fewer and fewer people the further they went.
Finally, the assassin turned down a dark eerie street. They passed a sign post: “Death Alley”
“What is your name if you don't mind me asking?”
(Zyad)
Zyad quirks a brow upon the assassin's remark on the city's guards, a silent sigh of relief escaping her lips. At the very least, Zyad now knows not to incur her helper's hatred to the point beyond what the assassin already has for the guards.
For the most of the ride, the two remained quiet, and the thief returned to counting the horse's steps that seemed to resound louder and louder the further down they went.
It was at 526 steps later that Zyad noticed the worn sign post held together by rusted nails. A perfectly placed eerie sign for a perfectly placed eerie street. All it needed now was a few dark clouds hanging overhead marked with occasional lightning and thunder to make it absolutely wonderful and inviting.
Yet despite the dreadful stillness it held, a small smile pulled at the corner of Zyad's lips, for the potential of becoming invisible once more lay greatly within Death Alley.
As the thief thought of the many things she'd do in her spare time when she is far from the city proper, the assassin interrupts her train of thought.
The thief blinks twice before relenting with a smirk.
"Zyad." A pause. "Just Zyad. Not 'petty thief,' mind you." It's not like she forgot what the assassin called her back at the tavern. "And what about you? Or should I just assume that everybody knows who I'm talking about when I mention a 'cold- blooded killer' with a big-ass hawk as her companion?"
(Shadow)
“They call me Shadow. When I say they I mean everyone besides me. You may not be a petty thief, Zyad, but you are a thief all the same.”
The horse’s strides slowed and soon came to a stop outside a house. It looked better than some of the others on the street, but it still wasn't an inviting home. There was no paint on the outside which made it look dark, which was made even worse by the fact there were no oil lamps on these alleys. Least the house had all its windows unlike the others.
Shadow swung her leg up over the horse’s neck, sliding off the saddle, and dismounted. She grabbed the horse’s reigns and gave him a pat on the neck. She turned back to Zyad.
“My real name is Iolar. You can stay here for a while eat, drink and rest if you need. “
(Zyad)
"You forgot to put 'fantastic' or 'amazing' before 'thief,'" and Zyad smiles a Cheshire smile, a small chuckle accompanying along with it. She leans her head against interlocked fingers and continues on,
"But 'Shadow,' huh? Wonder if that's just self-proclaimed or you earned it from your notoriety."
However, her mind wanders from the question once the horse stops in front of what she presumes to be Shadow's residence, one so carefully more intact, yet nonetheless daunting than the other houses.
She follows suit in dismounting, and was about to make a curt farewell, but is suddenly taken aback by the assassin's offer.
Her eyes narrow.
"Iolar, thank you for the assistance earlier, but I think this is where we should part ways." It's a shame such kindness is wasted on the thief.
But nonetheless, Zyad rolls her shoulders back, turns on her heel, then takes one last glance at Shadow.
"If we ever cross paths again, I'll make sure to return the favor. Thief's honor and all that."
She heads down an alleyway and disappears without a trace.
(Shadow)
"Like there's much honor in thieves." The assassin whispered to herself. "I suppose a murderer’s wouldn't be that much better."
The assassin, although she wouldn't admit it, was disappointed. She was disappointed she wouldn't have company for the evening.
The assassin brings the horse around the back and takes off his tack, leaving him running free in the paddock.
Shadow made her way inside, slowly stripping off pieces of her clothes starting with her belt and boots, then her assassin blades and outer robes. She quickly got a strong fire going giving at least a source of light.
She made her way to the kitchen and grabbed a beverage out of the cupboard, hard stuff. She threw herself down on the couch and flicked off the top. The assassin sighed "Bottoms up" and continued to drink the rum.
