Her heels glittered, clicking as they traced a line along the rooftops. How someone with so many glittering fashion accessories could be a fugitive, Eylar would never know. Obviously he preferred black, sleeker things, like cloaks and boots. They didn't make as much noise- or at least, he had to have half as much skill to move undetected across the rooftops.
Two long strides and his feet were passing over air, a small feeling of vertigo as the ground was suddenly so very far away.
And there they were, jumping between houses again, legs flying through the air. His passed through the air with a swoosh of velvety shadow, while her figure cut sharply through with similar silence, some glittery ornaments catching the moonlight as she went. They were running along houses on either side of the street, so he couldn't tell if she was making any jingly noises, but still frowned in her direction. People usually didn't notice small sounds, they mostly used their eyes to try to detect people, and she was surely making that easier.
How on earth did I get lumped with this fashionista weirdo?? He grumbled internally, clearing another gap and landing with a rolling swirl of cloak.
He looked up and there she was, impractically long luscious curls of white hair bouncing along, no longer drawn even with him, but a few steps in front. He blamed the roofing on his side of the street. Adjoined houses were always easier to cross than all of these detached ones- part of the reason all the older inner city suburbs were much easier to travel through.
Dense housing made all sorts of creative roads, if only you knew how to take them.
And they did, of course.
I mean, you need to know these things when you're in the business, after all.
The goldenwatch and silverwatch.
They used to be rival gangs, but eventually some people with good bookkeeping skills and a penchant for filling in funding application forms decided that they could form a sort of organization, a neighborhood watch, if you will. Not that it was just one neighborhood, and so it didn't take in random angsty teenagers with switchblades anymore.
No, you don't get funding from those sort of jobs.
And if you want something done smoothly and cleanly, you have to get professionals to do it.
Perhaps they were more like a government funded assassination society? Though frankly that sounds gory, corrupt and ungraceful. The fact was, that the watch ran like a well oiled clock; Possibly all puns intended (the people who ran the offices had a fairly terrible sense of humour).
So here they were, our two little COGS.
The Conclusion Of Galanty Squad
What can I say? Apparently the people in the office were both overly fond of puns, and knew their way around an old english dictionary.
One of the most common questions to new recruits was 'whats a galanty?'
Its a shadow puppets show.
Eylar was not even sure if that was an attempt at being ironic, as the squad definitely didn't appear to be doing any public entertainment, or if shadows and puppets were meant to be some sort of codename analogies.
He supposed it didn't matter anyway.
A job was a job was a job. And a job, by any other name, would still be employment.
Eylar wondered if he'd be keeping it after tonight though, after having to work with this obnoxious goldenwatch woman.
How on earth can someone manage to be so LOUD while being so completely silent!? He asked himself, catching a glimpse of her out of the corner of his eye as he picked up the pace.