A strange, puzzling letter and a single white feather were two things she hadn't expected to see purposefully arranged atop her pillowāin Amalia's home, stranger still. Her first inclination had been to inform her about this particular discovery, but it did have a name on it. It was addressed to someone she'd been, as of recent, avoiding: Rilien. She brooded over simply discarding it. Perhaps, by throwing it into Amalia's hearth and watching as its corners curled up. The act might have even been satisfying. Of course, she'd thumbed through it's contents, and found nothing else. Nothing revealing it's nature or where it'd come from. She pursed her lips and flicked the white feather behind one of her ears. What choice did she have? Curiosity would not allow her to ignore it.
It was difficult to discount the building dread thumping sickly against her ribs, reminding her that there was much to discuss and she was not prepared to face anything they'd both said. While she'd taken Amalia's advice to heart, she wasn't sure when was appropriate. How would she approach? Would she wait until he was on the cusp of leaving? But now, she had an excuse to see him, at least. Habit took her back to Rilien's shop, threading her steps like clockwork even though it felt like ages since she'd been there. She stopped in front of the door and crooked her hand to knock.
Knockālike she'd ever done that before, she mashed her teeth together and pushed the door open far harder than she'd intended to. It knocked into the wall and rebounded, catching at the elbow she launched out to keep it from smashing back into her gawping face. Sparrow hesitated in the doorway and finally tiptoed inside, feeling more like an intruder than anyone else: friend, visitor, client. Business. She was here for business, and that was it. After dropping off the letter, and making sure that all was well, she'd take her leave. She smoothed clammy hands across the front of her shirt and shut the door behind her, āRillien!ā Much too loud.
It was impossible to miss the slamming of his door back into a wall, or the coarse shout of his name. He supposed it was inevitable that this would happen eventually. Descending the stairs from his apartment over the shop, Rilien paused a moment when he caught sight of the feather in her hand, then blinked, crossing the remaining distance and holding his hand out for the letter, which he received. It had already been opened, which was hardly surprising; Sparrow was nosy even when feeling well-disposed towards someone else. He did not doubt that she would be even moreso when upset with the intended party.
The note this time indicated a more straightforward task. A good Bard knows when to be delicateā¦ and when to be forceful. There was little mystery about that one, especially considering the earlier note regarding the need for vigilance. Perhaps, then, the games were finally drawing to a close.
"Someone is going to try and assassinate you. Probably today. Iād recommend you remain away from anyone you wish to keep safe.ā He folded the letter back into its envelope and stowed it under the counter. "For the meantime, I will be shadowing you, if you are not opposed.ā Really, it didnāt matter in the least if she was opposedāhe was going to do it anyway. But he didnāt have to do it visibly.
Rilien snatched the letter so quickly from her fingers, she'd sworn that it'd been pilfered from him in the first place. She pressed her lips into a hard line and rocked back on her heels, wondering hotly whether or not it may have been a better idea to simply burn the stupid thingāno explanation whatsoever as he perused the letters contents. She flicked the white feather between her knuckles and obnoxiously cleared her throat. Whatever it was, it seemed far more important than she'd originally thought. Which made even less sense, given the fact that she did not understand its message.
She opened her mouth to inform him that the letter had been found in Amalia's home, on her bed, but promptly snapped it shut. How anyone had known she'd been living there was beyond her, though any doubts she harbored about its authenticity (and if this was just some sort of jest involving Ashton) quickly flew out the window when Rilien leveled her with a somber stare and announced that someone was going to attempt to assassinate her. Her insides twisted. Someone wanted to assassinate her? āWhatāwhy?ā She sputtered, throwing her hands out wide, āI haven't done anything recently that'd warrant someone wanting me dead.ā
Unlike him, her powers of deduction were stiflingly low. Sparrow watched as he tucked the letter away, āHow do you know? From that letter?ā It sounded more like awful poetry. And now, he wanted to shadow her until her potential-killer skulked from the shadows. Even if she declined, he would do as he pleased. As he usually did. She crossed her arms over her chest and frowned, āI can help with this.ā
Rilien blinked. "Then our course of action is clear. If we choose the time and place, we will be that much more prepared to deal with your assailants.ā He knew anyone Aurelie sent would wait for the opportune moment to attackāthe point would be how that moment was chosen. If Rilien and Sparrow could create it themselves, it would hardly be an ambush, and the biggest danger of the situation, its surprise, would be neutralized.
"As for whyā¦ that would be my fault. I am beingā¦ assessed, I believe.ā Heād given the situation some thought, and there was no other reasonable explanation for Aurelieās actions than a desire to take stock of his abilities. She compelled him to take the examinations by drawing him forth with the one sort of thing he would never be able to ignore: his instinct towards loyalty. Everything sheād asked him to do thus far was within the scope of a Bardās talents, and this test was no exception. As to why she had decided to do this, or why nowā¦ he suspected she would disclose that information herself, should she decide heād met her expectations.
"Here is what weāre going to do.ā
Unattended with teeth-bared and fists curled into whitened knuckles, Sparrow walked down the slummiest places she could think of in Darktown's recesses. Grimy, familiar buildings squeezed together like people hunched in darkness, shoulders knocking together. Even while armored with the knowledge of Rilien walking her shadows, she could not help feel awfully deserted. Unprepared for what would happen next should they choose to attack her in these twisted alleyways.
Would they come from the right or the left? Would they run to her with knives hissing in the dark, or with hands crackling magic? The furrow in her brows would not ease, and her hands tickled and twitched to hold her trusty mace. She could not. It would give away the game. Her heart knocked and thumped and beat all sensations of readiness she might have felt when facing a foe she could actually see.
The request did not go unrealized. There was a flash of motion coming from her peripheral vision, somewhere behind one of the squat buildings. A shuffle of crimson fabric flapped behind someone's, who was clearly not Rilien, shoulder and a blade swept behind like starlight, catching against its sharpest point as the person hurtled towards her. He was not alone. Two figures stalked in his wake, circling to her flanks. A wild, animalistic impulse smothered her inclinations of calm, as her hand slapped onto her mace and tore it from her back just in time to crack it down across the approaching man's unprotected skull. His dagger skittered away into obscurity. Sparrow wheeled around to face the second assailant to her rightāno, left. Wrong. She was wrong.
Another knife, closer this time, gleamed towards her face.
That one was brought up short when a blade emerged from the chest of the assassin wielding it. Rilien had not intended to reveal himself so soon, in case there were still others about, but heād had little choice in the matter. With a tug, he removed the dagger from the manās chest cavity, leaving only a frosty, bleeding wound behind as the corpse dropped to the stone beneath their feet.
As expected, two more joined the fray then, both of them going directly for him, which was actually beneficial, since it meant only one was left to assault Sparrow directly, and he knew she was more than capable of dealing with such a threat on her own.
He had known right away that these were hired men, not other members of Le Nichoir. It wasnāt a large organization, and survived mainly on the strength and intelligence of its individual agents rather than the number of bodies its matron Cygne could throw at a problem. So sometimes she did hire out for more brute matters of force such as this one. He supposed it was only good senseāshe would suffer no great loss at the death of hirelings, whom she had not trained or invested any amount of effort in whatsoever.
A knife flew towards him, and Rilien parried it out of the air with his own, knocking it to the ground where it skittered off and into some dark shadow of the Darktown alley. He stepped in close to the thrower, drawing his knife efficiently over her throat, whirling to meet the next, who had thought to strike at his back while he was otherwise occupied. The clangor of steel on steel sounded into the alley, echoing strangely in the space, and repeated several times in quick succession as Rilien blocked a hasty series of blows, sidestepping a lunge and bringing the pommel of his second dagger down on the back of his foeās neck as his ill-fated lunge carried him past. Electricity did what work force alone did not, and he was finished with a quick flourish and a severed spinal cord, right at the base of his skull.
The dagger did not meet it's intended target. Her heart jammed in her throat and she instinctively jerked backwards, far too late if he hadn't been there. Another blade yawned through the assassin's breast and the dagger twitched out of his gloved fingers, clattering to the ground. He followed suit, crumpling onto his face. In that moment, she was grateful for his attendance in the shadows. She twisted towards the third assassin who'd circled around her and towed her mace across the broken cobblestones, planting both feet firmly. Hands tight, muscles bunched.
As soon as he darted to the right, Sparrow hefted her mace upwards and missed as he ducked under. She allowed the momentum to carry her in the opposite direction and simply let go of the haft, sending it smashing into the opposite building. She grabbed the mans collar in passing and savagely throttled him into it, as well. The fabric held, and she heard his head crack against the crumbling brickwork. She didn't stop. Grappling for his wrist, Sparrow crushed his hand against the rock enough times to release the dagger from his bleeding fingers, and grabbed his greasy hair instead, dashing his head against her knee.
A few more blows, and he collapsed. She took a few withered breaths and bent to retrieve her mace, hefting it in her hands for good measure.
She turned back to see if he was done, wiping the sweat from her brow with the back of her hand.
āWell, that's that, then.ā
It was difficult to discount the building dread thumping sickly against her ribs, reminding her that there was much to discuss and she was not prepared to face anything they'd both said. While she'd taken Amalia's advice to heart, she wasn't sure when was appropriate. How would she approach? Would she wait until he was on the cusp of leaving? But now, she had an excuse to see him, at least. Habit took her back to Rilien's shop, threading her steps like clockwork even though it felt like ages since she'd been there. She stopped in front of the door and crooked her hand to knock.
Knockālike she'd ever done that before, she mashed her teeth together and pushed the door open far harder than she'd intended to. It knocked into the wall and rebounded, catching at the elbow she launched out to keep it from smashing back into her gawping face. Sparrow hesitated in the doorway and finally tiptoed inside, feeling more like an intruder than anyone else: friend, visitor, client. Business. She was here for business, and that was it. After dropping off the letter, and making sure that all was well, she'd take her leave. She smoothed clammy hands across the front of her shirt and shut the door behind her, āRillien!ā Much too loud.
It was impossible to miss the slamming of his door back into a wall, or the coarse shout of his name. He supposed it was inevitable that this would happen eventually. Descending the stairs from his apartment over the shop, Rilien paused a moment when he caught sight of the feather in her hand, then blinked, crossing the remaining distance and holding his hand out for the letter, which he received. It had already been opened, which was hardly surprising; Sparrow was nosy even when feeling well-disposed towards someone else. He did not doubt that she would be even moreso when upset with the intended party.
The note this time indicated a more straightforward task. A good Bard knows when to be delicateā¦ and when to be forceful. There was little mystery about that one, especially considering the earlier note regarding the need for vigilance. Perhaps, then, the games were finally drawing to a close.
"Someone is going to try and assassinate you. Probably today. Iād recommend you remain away from anyone you wish to keep safe.ā He folded the letter back into its envelope and stowed it under the counter. "For the meantime, I will be shadowing you, if you are not opposed.ā Really, it didnāt matter in the least if she was opposedāhe was going to do it anyway. But he didnāt have to do it visibly.
Rilien snatched the letter so quickly from her fingers, she'd sworn that it'd been pilfered from him in the first place. She pressed her lips into a hard line and rocked back on her heels, wondering hotly whether or not it may have been a better idea to simply burn the stupid thingāno explanation whatsoever as he perused the letters contents. She flicked the white feather between her knuckles and obnoxiously cleared her throat. Whatever it was, it seemed far more important than she'd originally thought. Which made even less sense, given the fact that she did not understand its message.
She opened her mouth to inform him that the letter had been found in Amalia's home, on her bed, but promptly snapped it shut. How anyone had known she'd been living there was beyond her, though any doubts she harbored about its authenticity (and if this was just some sort of jest involving Ashton) quickly flew out the window when Rilien leveled her with a somber stare and announced that someone was going to attempt to assassinate her. Her insides twisted. Someone wanted to assassinate her? āWhatāwhy?ā She sputtered, throwing her hands out wide, āI haven't done anything recently that'd warrant someone wanting me dead.ā
Unlike him, her powers of deduction were stiflingly low. Sparrow watched as he tucked the letter away, āHow do you know? From that letter?ā It sounded more like awful poetry. And now, he wanted to shadow her until her potential-killer skulked from the shadows. Even if she declined, he would do as he pleased. As he usually did. She crossed her arms over her chest and frowned, āI can help with this.ā
Rilien blinked. "Then our course of action is clear. If we choose the time and place, we will be that much more prepared to deal with your assailants.ā He knew anyone Aurelie sent would wait for the opportune moment to attackāthe point would be how that moment was chosen. If Rilien and Sparrow could create it themselves, it would hardly be an ambush, and the biggest danger of the situation, its surprise, would be neutralized.
"As for whyā¦ that would be my fault. I am beingā¦ assessed, I believe.ā Heād given the situation some thought, and there was no other reasonable explanation for Aurelieās actions than a desire to take stock of his abilities. She compelled him to take the examinations by drawing him forth with the one sort of thing he would never be able to ignore: his instinct towards loyalty. Everything sheād asked him to do thus far was within the scope of a Bardās talents, and this test was no exception. As to why she had decided to do this, or why nowā¦ he suspected she would disclose that information herself, should she decide heād met her expectations.
"Here is what weāre going to do.ā
Unattended with teeth-bared and fists curled into whitened knuckles, Sparrow walked down the slummiest places she could think of in Darktown's recesses. Grimy, familiar buildings squeezed together like people hunched in darkness, shoulders knocking together. Even while armored with the knowledge of Rilien walking her shadows, she could not help feel awfully deserted. Unprepared for what would happen next should they choose to attack her in these twisted alleyways.
Would they come from the right or the left? Would they run to her with knives hissing in the dark, or with hands crackling magic? The furrow in her brows would not ease, and her hands tickled and twitched to hold her trusty mace. She could not. It would give away the game. Her heart knocked and thumped and beat all sensations of readiness she might have felt when facing a foe she could actually see.
The request did not go unrealized. There was a flash of motion coming from her peripheral vision, somewhere behind one of the squat buildings. A shuffle of crimson fabric flapped behind someone's, who was clearly not Rilien, shoulder and a blade swept behind like starlight, catching against its sharpest point as the person hurtled towards her. He was not alone. Two figures stalked in his wake, circling to her flanks. A wild, animalistic impulse smothered her inclinations of calm, as her hand slapped onto her mace and tore it from her back just in time to crack it down across the approaching man's unprotected skull. His dagger skittered away into obscurity. Sparrow wheeled around to face the second assailant to her rightāno, left. Wrong. She was wrong.
Another knife, closer this time, gleamed towards her face.
That one was brought up short when a blade emerged from the chest of the assassin wielding it. Rilien had not intended to reveal himself so soon, in case there were still others about, but heād had little choice in the matter. With a tug, he removed the dagger from the manās chest cavity, leaving only a frosty, bleeding wound behind as the corpse dropped to the stone beneath their feet.
As expected, two more joined the fray then, both of them going directly for him, which was actually beneficial, since it meant only one was left to assault Sparrow directly, and he knew she was more than capable of dealing with such a threat on her own.
He had known right away that these were hired men, not other members of Le Nichoir. It wasnāt a large organization, and survived mainly on the strength and intelligence of its individual agents rather than the number of bodies its matron Cygne could throw at a problem. So sometimes she did hire out for more brute matters of force such as this one. He supposed it was only good senseāshe would suffer no great loss at the death of hirelings, whom she had not trained or invested any amount of effort in whatsoever.
A knife flew towards him, and Rilien parried it out of the air with his own, knocking it to the ground where it skittered off and into some dark shadow of the Darktown alley. He stepped in close to the thrower, drawing his knife efficiently over her throat, whirling to meet the next, who had thought to strike at his back while he was otherwise occupied. The clangor of steel on steel sounded into the alley, echoing strangely in the space, and repeated several times in quick succession as Rilien blocked a hasty series of blows, sidestepping a lunge and bringing the pommel of his second dagger down on the back of his foeās neck as his ill-fated lunge carried him past. Electricity did what work force alone did not, and he was finished with a quick flourish and a severed spinal cord, right at the base of his skull.
The dagger did not meet it's intended target. Her heart jammed in her throat and she instinctively jerked backwards, far too late if he hadn't been there. Another blade yawned through the assassin's breast and the dagger twitched out of his gloved fingers, clattering to the ground. He followed suit, crumpling onto his face. In that moment, she was grateful for his attendance in the shadows. She twisted towards the third assassin who'd circled around her and towed her mace across the broken cobblestones, planting both feet firmly. Hands tight, muscles bunched.
As soon as he darted to the right, Sparrow hefted her mace upwards and missed as he ducked under. She allowed the momentum to carry her in the opposite direction and simply let go of the haft, sending it smashing into the opposite building. She grabbed the mans collar in passing and savagely throttled him into it, as well. The fabric held, and she heard his head crack against the crumbling brickwork. She didn't stop. Grappling for his wrist, Sparrow crushed his hand against the rock enough times to release the dagger from his bleeding fingers, and grabbed his greasy hair instead, dashing his head against her knee.
A few more blows, and he collapsed. She took a few withered breaths and bent to retrieve her mace, hefting it in her hands for good measure.
She turned back to see if he was done, wiping the sweat from her brow with the back of her hand.
āWell, that's that, then.ā