A chill ran up Jeanneās spine as her ears picked up Quinnās cold words.
āYou knew they were after you.ā
Her movement slowed with every step she took. Her heartbeat picked up in pace, thumping against her chest like the war drums of a pursuing army. āQuinn, Iā¦,ā The thief girl racked her brain for a response, already feeling the blondeās ice cold gaze without having to look. In that brief moment, her voice rose in pitch and lacked the distinctive accent she had been using before. Jeanneās heart beat even faster than before, her pupils shrunk and quivered, her lips parted, but she could find no words to impart. No sweet talks, no lies, no excuses. The thief girl shut her eyes tight, as the sound of thunder rang through the alleyway.
A few seconds passed. Jeanne expected to hear a thud. Or two. But when she opened her eyes, she saw Quinn standing ahead, bloody and disheveled, while her and Marcus remained unharmed. Jeanne could feel another lump on her throat, and a wet sensation welling on her eyes. That face. Jeanne couldnāt take her eyes off it.There was no red-hot rage, or tearful despair, only aā¦ hollow, lifeless look which drained all heat from Jeanneās core. After a moment too long, the jester managed to utter a meaningless word in response. āQuinnā¦ā
That tingle of guilt resurfaced within her, piercing at her chest like a needle, as she turned her back upon the blonde, hung her head, then dashed away with Marcus on their separate ways. A long moment of silence ensued as the two thieves hopped over barrel shards, slid under broken archways, and slipped across alley walls like rats within a maze.
The luster within Jeanneās jewel-like eyes faded, as she stared, unfocused, upon the brick street. Every footstep they made felt deafening within the silence. She turned her head the slightest bit to Marcus, unable, or unwilling, to even meet his eyes. āSoā¦ Pardenaire, what now?ā Her companion merely stared ahead, his face appearing paler than it usually was, and his typically stoic gaze had softened.
ā...We need to get back to the Rose and Curd,ā he replied. āWe need to get those documents, and get the hell out of here likeā¦ like Quinn said. After that, wellā¦ weāll figure something out.ā Marcus briefly wondered if retrieving their esoteric loot would even be worth it, but then again Teāi Sai would likely keep hounding them anyway. Jeanne gave a slow nod, and remained silent as they made their way to the tavern.
āThere goes my plans for the pretty dresses and perfumesā¦,ā Jeanne remarked with a bitter smile, as the two tossed their belongings into their backpacks. Pots, pans, a ledger, various mechanical gizmos and whirring knick-knacks which Jeanne tinkered with in her spare time. Meanwhile, Marcus found the papers which got them into this mess in the first place, hidden within the 108th page of their ledger. The amber glow of the oil lamps and the hearty cheers of drunken CreāEstians partying below could not soothe the two thievesā fearstruck hearts, like it had for several nights before. Try as they might, they could not ward away the thoughts of Quinn and Marcelās potential fate. Would the assassins give them a quick death, at least? Or will they torture them first? Or worse, in Quinnās case?
The jester let out a long sigh. āWeāll need to go down. Deep below,ā she said, in a voice once again lacking her usual accent or marginally deeper pitch. āBack to the CreāEst underground. Thereās bound to be tunnels there that smugglers use to ship off their ill-gotten goods. And thenā¦ā
āPray weāll make it out in one piece?ā
Jeanne scoffed, then hoisted the backpack upwards as she stood, before looking over her shoulder towards her partner with a smirk. āNever took you for the praying sort.ā
Marcus shrugged, though he couldnāt help but return the smile. āFigure that nowās as good a time as any to start.ā
And so, the duo dashed back out, into the shaded alleys of CreāEst, to find a light of hope amidst the encroaching darkness...