- Thieves Out of Time - [[Open/Not Accepting]]

[Sophia die Dritte]

One who gains strength by overcoming obstacles possesses the only strength which can overcome adversity.

Thea had booked a reservation for her and her less-than-thrilled escort for a fancy Inn near the Royal Palace in the Upper District. It was where quite a few guests had come for the ball, and so to keep with appearances they had as well. She had been fussing over Dawyn back at the Shades' base, trying to fix his hair and commenting on his posture before they had arrived to claim their room earlier that morning. A few days prior she had arranged for some clothes to be tailored for them, and so she had reluctantly parked the time-wielding Shade in their luxurious room for a few hours by his lonesome. While out doing her errands she had had a few fleeting panic attacks when thinking what he could do there, and she prayed under her breath to Chroniel that the room remained in one piece until her return.

Upon gathering all the necessities for the ball, the blonde assassin struggled to carry all the bags up to their room upon the second floor of the Inn. Breathing heavily by the time she was able to open the door, the slender Black Wing burst in a bit ungracefully and kicked it shut behind her. Dropping the pile of clothes on the sofa, she pushed an unruly curl from her face. She was still in her usual men's attire, and it really was hard to fathom how the blonde would ever do in a dress. She, herself, was not entirely looking forward to the layers of skirts, but she had tried to get something she could actually move in. What if they had to make a quick escape? Petticoats be damned, she could pull off a dress without them. Beneath her loose blouse and trousers, she needed no emphasis on her womanly frame.

"Have you been enjoying yourself?" She asked Dawyn, not yet looking at him, and she glanced around the room to make sure it was untarnished. "...did they send up the sausage and eggs earlier? I made a request..." She said with a smirk, a reference to one of their first conversations. Since then he had made a stunning recovery, the Doctor had allowed her a tentative partnership with him, and now he was her date to the ball. All that was left to do was get him groomed and ready for the event and they might have a chance to gather some useful information.

"Did you wash up like I asked?" She commented as she began taking his clothes out of the bags. "There was rose water in the washroom, and fresh cloth to dry off in. We can't have you smelling like the sewers, like usual, tonight." Turning to actually face him, she dropped the bag in her hand, and gasped. "What the hell happened to your hair???" She cried, her hands still held out as if the bag was still in them.

The image of the dark-haired man dancing with her suddenly flashed before her eyes, and the blonde seemed to go ghostly white. Was this a vision come true? Her gaze lingered on his hair, her azure gaze holding confusion before she shook her head. "Whatever, it...looks fine." She muttered after a moment, and trying to keep her hands from shaking, she leaned over to pick up the bags. "Should I dye my hair red?" She muttered under her breath, as her heart raced.

Her visions coming true never bode well for her...

[Familiar Crow]

► Sammeth - The Young Thief ◄

[I can hold my breath
I can bite my tongue
I can stay awake for days
If that's what you want
Be your number one

But I'm only human
And I bleed when I fall down
I'm only human]

theme

Sam stood up on a roof, staring across at the gap between it and the next building. He wasn't a coward when it came to heights, but it was a rather large gap...Sam remembered what Ros had said though. People never look up. If he wanted to be a good thief, he had to learn to use all levels to his advantage. Sam backed up a few paces, then broke into a sprint. As he neared the edge of the building, he felt his stomach drop, but he forced himself to keep moving, then leapt. He could feel the rush, the open air beneath him, then, he hit the other roof and rolled. It wasn't graceful, but it was doable. He landed in a flop on the second roof, where he quickly sat up, a wide grin on his face.

He got back to his feet after a moment, brushing off his pants. His familiar flew over after a moment, perching on his shoulder in the form of a sparrow. Sam over at the creature, his smile fading. He'd made his decision about Ros and Dawyn. Could he lie was the question. Sam walked over to edge once more, backed up to getting a running start, and jumped. He landed better this time, his familiar taking flight right before he hit the roof. He had already decided he would put his cards in with Ros. However, Ros didn't have the answers that Dawyn had. He needed to find a way to trick Dawyn into giving him the information he wanted. His plan was damn near suicidal, but living with his familiar was too.

So, he'd come up with a plan. With the help of another street thief who knew how to write, Sam had written a message to Dawyn with an offer for information and a proposal for a deal- a bluff. It had simply said,

Shade,

I'll bring Ros to you at the charity ball. He's already going to help a friend. Bring the information or whatever you have to the charity ball as well and we'll talk.

Sammeth

Of course, little had Sam known that his letter was sent not just to Dawyn, but then recited to Ros later. Sam had unknowingly gotten help from one of Ros's other helpers. Sam hadn't seen Ros or Ananya over the past few days. He'd been keeping to himself, just trying to gather information for Ros and about his own problem. The priests at the temple hadn't been of any help. They'd found his ability shocking and even disturbing. The head priest had been watching him rather curiously too, although he hadn't quite been too sure why. The head priest had been avoiding him too since he'd first gone to the temple about his power, although that didn't bother him too much. Why would a priest bother with a rat like him?

Sam climbed down from the roof carefully, clinging to each brick with the edges of his fingers. His arm had mended up quite nicely, leaving not a bit of stiffness or pain, and all his bruises were nearly gone. He'd been good too to try and bathe more, going to the bathhouses with some stolen coin. His hair was still a bright golden blonde and he had a considerably less amount of dirt on him. However, he had to look the part if he wanted to blend in at the charity ball. So, naturally, he went to a foreign market up in the upper district and patrolled around, nimbly snatching up bits of clothes he thought looked nice. By the time he was finished with his 'shopping trip', he had acquired a finely made shirt, an embroidered green tunic, and dark brown trousers that fit him surprisingly well. To complete his vestments, he wore a pair of nice boots and a bronze broach shaped like a dragon, which held his cloak up quite nicely. Now he wasn't Sam the thief. He was 'Sammeth the merchant's son'. Perfect.

[Qwirx]

xxxxxxxxxxx⌛ Xc н ʀ σ ɴ ι є ʟX ⌛xxxxxxxxxxx
"тαʟʟια ʀєιɴαʀD" ~ тнє αʀcн-ɢσɗ σғ тιмє

Strumming his harp, Tallis found the acoustics of the ballroom to be suitable. The designer had done well enough with sound amplifying materials and shape, at least for this day and age. The ball in a few hours should end reasonably successfully, despite the near-future shenaniganry that seemed to be slowly assuring its place.

One of the other musicians seemed to be whining about something, and Chroniel frankly felt disinclined to listen, but did so out of obligation. The band leader seemed to want to run through their pieces as many times as possible before the ball.

If they don't have it by now, they're not going to get it. The god mentally muttered, exasperated at both the flautist's inability to keep tune and the drummer's inability to keep a steady rhythm. Still, Tallis capably accommodated the shortcomings in his own strumming, and furthermore did so while smiling elegantly, long hair draped freely over his shoulders. Just for the occasion, he was wearing a simple silk dress, draped gently over his lean and graceful form (which was the tiniest bit more hipsy than usual).

Why exactly Tallis was dressed like a woman resided in his current companionship. The easiest way to attend the ball was to join in the already hired band. Upon their meeting, the group of self-absorbed men had remarked that while they were looking for a harpist, they were keeping the slot open for someone pretty (read: of the female persuasion), to draw in tips. As if any woman with dignity would join the half-drunken oafs. Tallis, with a wag of his hips and a flip of his hair, said he'd be back in an hour.

And thus, in precisely an hour, Tallia stunned the group of musicians with a willowy, feminine form, dignified carriage, and a smoky, gender-ambiguous voice. The mortal god calculatingly eyed each of the staring musicians in turn, and each one seemed uncomfortably attracted. The leader, very adamant that he couldn't be fooled by such a girly boy (but notably not doubting Tallis' beauty) challenged the crossdresser's musical talent.

Once Tallis recalled a piece that would be suitably impressive, but easy enough for a half-wit to follow, everything became easy. They were impressed, Tallis was in the band, and the admittedly vain dark-haired beauty was getting all the attention he could ever want.

At the site of the ball, still a while before festivities began, the leader and trumpeter again interrupted, calling for another rehearsal from the top. At least he realized how off that chord was. Chroniel thought, with Tallia still wearing a gorgeous and calm expression.

xxxxxxxxx↛ αɴɗ sσ ι cαмє тσXɢ α z єXυρσɴ тнє ✹ sтαʀs, ✹
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx ωнєɴ тнєʏ ωєʀє ʏєтXυ ɴ в σ ʀ ɴ. ↚

[Loonamist]

Xallion Zachary Trinton

Xallion adjusted his jacket and then his coat sleeves as he absently shifted and moved about in his room. He wasn't nervous, not even slightly, he was barely even restless, but his mind was working, and that made his feet want to keep active as well. He'd been ready for a few moments now, just finishing the details, making sure his shirt was properly tucked in, his jacket finely buttoned up, his pants fitted, his shoes shiny. He normally didn't care for this sort of thing, but even he wanted to look good upon first impression, at least.

He'd already had Stilte's garments, along with a stylest, be sent to the boys room, but he wasn't going to bother checking in to make sure all was well. That was something he'd done for years after the boy was acclimated enough to attend such things, but by now, it just felt silly, and the slightest bit condescending. Not to mention, much as he didn't always like to acknowledge it, Stilte really did need to learn some independence. The two leaned on each other so heavily that there was there was a fair bit of dependency, and there was no doubt it was more so on Stilte's side of things. Even if he had no way of easily, socially, communicating with people, there were ways, and just allowing him to be comfortable in his own skin would be good.

That didn't mean he still wasn't anxious to see him at the ball, of course.

But in the meantime, he would go see how things were being set up. He gave his sleeves one last tug, then lifted his head high as he strolled out of his room. He had talked with Estella earlier, the usual check in and refreshment of safety protocol, plus a general over view of the guests and what to expect, but she had left to get ready a while ago. He could hear the band revving up and practicing from the hallway, a smile crossing his face as he heard the beautiful melody of a harp. Ah, that was a pleasantly familiar sound...

The familiarity of the individual playing it was much more surprising, however. Axel had walked in, hands elegantly held behind his back, noting the servants hurrying around, making sure food and drink was ready for the soon-arriving guests. Decorations were being triple checked, but all in all, everything seemed ready to go. The band sounded finely tuned as well (at least to his mortal ears), and as he looked over at them, he felt a stir of recognition that made him stop. That.... Was that....

He stared perplexedly at the harp player, head tilted to the side. They looked familiar, but... he couldn't even place if that was a man or a woman! At least, not at first. A curious smile crossed his face as he looked them over, finally deciding it was, in fact, a male. Once that was sorted out, he was able to start rapidly tracing back to why they seemed so known. It took him a moment, but finally, he was able to recall, and a lopsided grin quickly crossed face. Never would he have guessed to encounter him again, especially not here, not now. And certainly not in a dress! He had to laugh to himself, and without expecting much, he started to wander closely to the band, a more sly smirk crossing his face now as he looked distinctly at Tallis. If he had time, if he could pry him from the other band members for a moment, he would love to have a little discussion with the man...

[Qwirx]

xxxxxxxxxxx⌛ Xc н ʀ σ ɴ ι є ʟX ⌛xxxxxxxxxxx
"тαʟʟια ʀєιɴαʀD" ~ тнє αʀcн-ɢσɗ σғ тιмє

Without missing a beat, Chroniel noticed Prince Xallion enter the ballroom and begin to give the festivities a last-minute examination. Tallis' eyes stayed elsewhere; the prince would walk over in his own time. They had met once before, Prince Xallion and Tallis, many years ago. Tallis's activities then had been strange, but were rather pivotal in the prince's life. Now, the prince would be expecting explanations. The god was looking forward to their conversation perhaps more than he was the rest of the ball.

As Xallion started to move pointedly toward the band, with sea of servants parting and nodding respectfully, the drummer quietly questioned who the man with the strange hair was. Another musician responded that it was "some noble" and that the drummer should shut up and not act like an idiot.

The song ended shortly thereafter. Tallis chanced a glance toward the prince and was met with a sly smirk aimed directly at himself. Ignoring the nervous acts of the rest of the group, Tallis stood and kindly smiled at the prince, holding his wooden harp at his side. Torn between a bow or a curtsey, the god opted for the male response, as the prince would know him.

The crossdressing male gave the same deep bow he'd given upon his first meeting with the prince. "It is an honor, your highness." Tallis spoke as he rose, his voice again clearly male. Obviously unsure of what to do, the band mimicked Tallis's actions and bowed toward the prince.

xxxxxxxxx↛ αɴɗ sσ ι cαмє тσXɢ α z єXυρσɴ тнє ✹ sтαʀs, ✹
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx ωнєɴ тнєʏ ωєʀє ʏєтXυ ɴ в σ ʀ ɴ. ↚

[Loonamist]

Xallion Zachary Trinton

Up close, Axel was sure of it; this was the very same man he had met many, many years ago. Which was surprising, because he looked exactly the same. Well... not exactly the same. He'd been dressed as a man back then. Axel had to admit, though, he pulled off the feminine look pretty well. His body was slim enough to give the illusion of curves, and... those hips. Goodness. Axel had to work hard to hold back an amused smile, and even then, it didn't really work. He gave up after a bit, looking 'Tallis' over as he stood up and gave a bow, but not at all appearing arrogant over it. Somehow.

"More so than most," he remarked back. Okay, that sounded a bit arrogant. It lead to something else, however, for which he lowered his voice so that only Tallis could hear. "Not many managed to ensure the debt of a royal so easily..." he murmured, a knowing smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. Not so much that the task Tallis had performed had been an simple one, but the ease with which he did it certainly made it look nothing like a challenge. "I'm still quite curious how you knew that secret tunnel was there," he added, and, raising his eyes to the rest of the band, made a dismissive gesture. He would like to talk to Tallis a bit before it became too crowded, and he wanted to remove any eager ears so he could stop speaking in such a low tone. "Not to mention why," he added casually, "There are still quite a few mysteries about you, minstrel." He looked him over, once again clearly amused. "Perhaps even more so now than before," he added, obviously referring to his choice of wear.

[Qwirx]

xxxxxxxxxxx⌛ Xc н ʀ σ ɴ ι є ʟX ⌛xxxxxxxxxxx
"тαʟʟιs ʀєιɴαʀD" ~ тнє αʀcн-ɢσɗ σғ тιмє

Tallis smiled lightly, and approached the lightest subject first. "I thank the other bards for my current dress. It was the result of a bet."

"Let it be known that what I speak is truth. I did not come by that tunnel by the usual knowledge." Tallis spoke, the smirk having left his face for a more serious demeanor. "I'm sure you are aware of the magically gifted who have been cropping up as of late. I am among them." The topic would normally have required a more gentle approach, but Chroniel felt assured that Axel would find it believable enough. After all, his mute friend was among the gifted.

"Occasionally I have visions of events yet to be. It was in one of these visions that I saw myself escorting you through that tunnel. I will not pretend to know why Chroniel has blessed me with such visions," There's no need for pretending, I know The god thought, his mortal form skillfully weaving half-truths. "But events tend to wind up better when I heed them." The smirk returned to Tallis' face.

"While I am glad to hear that my actions have benefitted your highness, there are no debts owed. I am your servant." Just as I am servant of every human in this realm. Chroniel mentally muttered.

xxxxxxxxx↛ αɴɗ sσ ι cαмє тσXɢ α z єXυρσɴ тнє ✹ sтαʀs, ✹
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx ωнєɴ тнєʏ ωєʀє ʏєтXυ ɴ в σ ʀ ɴ. ↚

OOC: Kelly made an oopsie and accidentally deleted this post. She has re-made it to the best of her ability.

[Razpitan]

Ɍossєl “Ɍσs” sнarρє

☈ The Traitor

☷☷☷☷☷☷☷☷☷☷☷☷☷☷☷☷☷☷☷☷ ☷☷☷☷☷☷☷ ☷☷☷☷☷☷☷ ☷☷☷☷☷☷☷

Rossel sat in the darkened corner of the tavern, using the shadows to both hide his person and to keep the sun from hurting his tired eyes. He hadn’t slept all that well the past week –if at all really- and it was slowly beginning to affect his mind. Most of the time had been spent researching information; keeping tabs on what was going on in Riverton, trying to properly decode the note Chroniel had left for him, trying to further understand the journals and the information they conveyed. He hadn’t seen Ananya or Sam save for a couple of check-up times. He didn’t want Ananya beating him to sleep, and Sam of course had his own issues to resolve, with the new knowledge about his familiar coming to light. Rossel figured Sam would be spending the time trying to learn more about it, finding out to what extent he could truly push the creature and himself before coming in harm’s way.

This is why the red head thief was now in a state of annoyance and confusion. One of his informants had found him and relayed a message that Rossel had never expected to hear. He replayed the message in his head over and over; frown on his face as he tried to come to terms with it. Exactly what was Sam trying to pull here? Normally, Rossel would’ve gone straight into paranoid mode, determining that he’d been betrayed. He was two tired for that though. On top of that, this seemed out of character for Sam to do. No there had to be something to it, something that Sam couldn’t come to him over. Dawyn must’ve been holding back some information, though exactly what Rossel didn’t know.

Still, this was a troubling development. He’d heard of the charity ball being held, supposedly the High Guard’s attempt to make amends for the unnecessary destruction to the Lower District last week. It hadn’t interested him to be honest. But now it seemed he’d be going anyways, if only to keep Sam from getting gutted for his lies.

Rossel took another swig of his tea, setting the cup aside and rubbing his eyes once more. He’d need a disguise, wouldn’t he? Of course, he wanted to see what Sam did first. After all, he wasn’t supposed to know about this little deal. So Rossel would pretend he didn’t. For now. If it was truly a double-crossing, he’d need to come up with a clever excuse for Ananya why Sam wasn’t around anymore…

With one final swig, Rossel finished his drink. He stood up, pulling the cloak over his head so that shadows concealed the upper part of his face and left the tavern. He started considering what kind of disguise he would need. He wanted to bring the blades after all, but chances were people would be required to be un-armed before entering. There was also the situation of invitations. He’d have to get a hold of one as well. There was a lot of last minute details that needed to be executed…


☷☷☷☷☷☷☷☷☷☷☷☷☷☷☷☷☷☷☷☷ ☷☷☷☷☷☷☷ ☷☷☷☷☷☷☷ ☷☷☷☷☷☷☷

[Loonamist]

Xallion Zachary Trinton

Axel couldn't help but be amused at the matching smile on the musician's face. This man was a mystery indeed, and he had a feeling there was much more to him than he could possibly learn. There was something about him... Axel had no magical abilities, but he'd been enough around who had-- heck, he shared a mental link with one who did-- to at least pick up on there being something particular about him. He hadn't noticed it when he was younger, he just thought that was what it was like to be around an adult who was actually cool and intelligent, but now that he was older, and more perceptive... Yes, there was definitely something special about him.

"You make bets?" he inquired curiously, an odd sort of smile crossing his face. That was interesting to note. He didn't bother saying anything further, though, because while the idea of gambling with a man this interesting was, indeed, interesting, he was more curious about finding out more about the past, rathe than the future. He nodded as Tallis began to speak, his expression sobering up a bit as he listened. A smile crossed his face, both at the way Tallis spoke, and the words he said. He nodded a bit in appreciation, but then chuckled a bit. "Hm, somehow, I have a hard time seeing you as a servant to anyone, at least by conventional means," he remarked. If the man were a 'servant' to anyone, he would have guessed it be the gods themselves, a member of the clergy or something of the like.

"At any rate, though, I still appreciate what you did. That does make me wonder, though... did you not foresee the outcome of your bet, or do you simply enjoy wearing dresses? It suits you, in any case," he added, his smile a bit more playful. Despite all the formalities, he could not help but feel at ease with the man. He was curious, interesting, and while they didn't have a history, per se, they did, at least, share a secret. "So tell me, is it by chance that we happened to cross each other here, or was this, too, another vision of yours?" he added, that smirk growing just a bit more mischievous as he looked at Tallis.

[Qwirx]

xxxxxxxxxxx⌛ Xc н ʀ σ ɴ ι є ʟX ⌛xxxxxxxxxxx
"тαʟʟιs ʀєιɴαʀD" ~ тнє αʀcн-ɢσɗ σғ тιмє

The prince was a clever one; Chroniel had to give him that. Prideful, too, and not easily blustered; traits of a strong leader. It seemed that Axel was indeed progressing down one of the more favorable futures.

Tallis smiled with a mixture of embarrassment and cheekiness. "Your highness catches on quickly. I make bets when I feel I'll win them. I saw an opportunity to speak with you tonight and I took it, regardless of consequences to my apparel." A light gesture toward his dress followed. "Truthfully, I don't mind it. In the business of entertainment, the pretty have it easier, and pretty women even more so."

Counting himself very much among those ranks, every bit of Tallis' poise suggested an elegant, confident woman as he ran a hand through his long hair, twirling it in a vaguely seductive manner. He gave the prince a wink and a playful smile and opted for his smokier, more gender-ambiguous tone of voice. "As we make our money off tips, I'm sure your highness can understand why."

xxxxxxxxx↛ αɴɗ sσ ι cαмє тσXɢ α z єXυρσɴ тнє ✹ sтαʀs, ✹
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx ωнєɴ тнєʏ ωєʀє ʏєтXυ ɴ в σ ʀ ɴ. ↚

[Loonamist]

Xallion Zachary Trinton

It was.... actually impossible to hide his reaction to Tallis' answer to his question-- partially because he managed to somewhat answer both of his inquiries in one answer. A grin crossed his face, but to his own surprise, so did a very faint blush. He was used to flirting with pretty women-- he rarely flirted with men. Flirting with someone who he vaguely knew, owed a debt to, and was, in fact, a man, would have been a new experience, but it probably wouldn't have made him blush. It was the very baffling and confusing fact that this particular man was just a s pretty, if not more so, than some of the women he had spoke with, and it was doing something sort of funny to his brain. A mere confusion of the senses, which he found more amusing than anything, but still knocked him off his guard just enough to get the colors on his face to change ever so slightly. It was something that rarely happened for him.

"I can definitely understand," he laughed, smirking a bit as he crossed his arms over his chest, "And I'm sure with you're appearance you'll earn quite a bit in tips." He had to weigh whether or not to make his next comment or not, but in the end, he decided to jokingly toss it out, hoping not to be taken too seriously, but, perhaps, considered all the same. "So, was talking all we were foreseen to do in your vision?" he questioned nonchalantly, trying to make it clear he wasn't serious in the question. He could have meant dancing, after all, nothing else! And even that was somewhat made in jest. Really, it was quite... puzzling talking like this. He wasn't even sure how old Tallis was compared to him. With a woman, that wouldn't change a thing, but this had him all sorts of confused. Act on instinct... That was really his only option, and with that in mind, he quickly tried to shut down the part of his brain that was grossly trying to over think this.

[godessofthieves]

x
x
x

it is one thing to ɧ є α я about dragons,
but another matter e n t i r e l y to ɱ є є ʈ xʈ н є ɱ

xxxxxxxx❖
xxxxxxxx❖
xxxxxxxx❖
xxxxxxxx❖


xxno, тнere aιn'т no reѕт ғor тнe wιcĸed...
╔═════════════════════════════════


Things had fared well for the Dragon-Eyed. Their currency had not been noticed by the High Guard, though was certainly being implemented into the common-folk's hands. Every-day shops (even the boring type that payed their taxes) were now recognizing it as a form of payment. Their currency had not completely replaced the bronze tokens and good-for-good trading, but it was more of a side option. A medieval "paper, plastic, or did you bring your own bag?" equivalent. She carefully took a DE coin (the apparent slang that had been attached to their currency) and rubbed her thumb over its face. Blind eyes gazing forward, the mental imprint of the coin slowly drew itself in her mind. Following her greed, her body began replacing her skin with scales, and a deep rumbling from her throat - as of a large cat purring after a good meal - resounded and filled the room with its soft thunder.

But even she had to pause for some time to prepare herself. She had entrusted one of her more-reliable messengers to choose a dress, informing her to disregard price and only focus on looks. Of course, this dress would have to have flexible fabric; there was no way she would be able to wear something she could not defend herself in. Moving freely was a priority. The leader knocked on her door, signalling the young lady outside to be able to come in and aid her in getting dressed. She had no idea how it looked, though was greeted with a jealous gasp in assurance of its stunning quality. The entire time the leader looked in the mirror, as though gazing at her hair the lady proceeded to work on. Even in her more private moments she had to maintain her facade of having sight.

Once finished, a hesitant silence filled the room with the tiny lady waiting for her commander to comment or dismiss her. Iza slowly felt her hair while turning her head side to side before requesting another mirror so she "would be able to see the back". A nod of approval sent the young maid out of the room, leaving the leader alone to add some personal touches.

"Commander, y-you...ah...very lovely." A hardly-coherent comment from a nearby member caused her to turn. A feminine, hesitant voice who emphasized the last syllable of each word with an even higher tone.

"Ah, Frederick." She wondered when the lad would finally hit puberty, though it appeared today was not the day. He was one of the younger teens in the gang, so she decided to keep him on his toes. At that age she occasionally felt concern for him, but as a blood-thirsty leader was more concerned with teaching him his place.

Today she chose hostility. "What an interesting adjective. Although a rose has thorns, do we still thank it when it pricks us?" Confusion and fear fell upon his face; he was unsure if this was a trick question or an important lesson he should already have the answer to. She began to walk toward him, stilettos clicking like the clock of his last few minutes on Earth. "If a murderer wears a dress like mine, does it mean they are no less menacing?" A pause. "Do I look no more menacing?"

The thirteen-year-old gulped, rubbing the back of his neck. "N-no, I meant...I meant your knives. Um? Were hidden well? Under the dress, I mean. Lovely concealment. Um." To his surprise, the leader smiled in response to this. Milky-white eyes looked him up and down, and he could have sworn he saw jagged, sharpened teeth for a hint of a second. "Do you know what you are doing tonight, Frederick?"

"I - " "You are escorting Komandir Iza Makarova to the ball."




═════════════════════════════════╝
...υnтιl we cloѕe oυr eyeѕ ғor good.xx


xxxxxxxxζeader of the ʠragon-єyed
xxxxxxxxɭocation: the Mended Drum, about to leave for the ball
xxxxxxxxϣith: Frederick, one of the youngest teens in the Dragon-Eyed
xxxxxxxxѺѺʗ: n/a