<span style='width:100%;font-weight:bold; font-size:10px'>Out of Character</span> <table class='ooc'><tr><td>Timestamp: 29th Tessera (Autumn), Year : 81378 (4), Jipd-sena. This thread is private for http://shadowlack.com/forums/index.php?showuser=654Alkia</a> and http://shadowlack.com/forums/index.php?showuser=1065Dumu</a>.</td></tr></table> The sky was leaky with splashes of yellows and reds; bloody- like a piece of raw meat had been dragged over the sodden clouds, and all of it drizzled down into the landscape. Melting together- a slur of watercolor. Not to distant mausoleums of stone rose faintly out of the mix, cookie-cut mountains in the sanguinary sky, and they twirled like a kaleidoscope every time the salt-brined wind shifted. Patajs caught one of these brackish gusts against her sensitive pink nose, and agitatedly buried it deeper into her scarf. The weather had become decidedly cooler, which wasn’t all-together unbearable, but the wet air and the crushing wind made the assassin feel claustrophobic. She shrugged her heavy woolen coat tightly around herself and glared under snowy lashes at the giant arden striding easily at her side. Not only did the suffocating atmosphere get under her skin, but she was also intensely irritated by his complete obliviousness to their miserable conditions; that’s what really bugged her about Ivumo, he got her keyed up over the stupidest things. Evergreens sprung up around them- swaying gently and heady with the promise of mountains. Their limbs smacking and clawing each other for a taste of the bleeding light. Patajs exhaled slowly into her scarf and the tepid air warmed her cheeks pleasantly; she had mildly noticed the change in their surroundings and slowly re-sensitized herself to the knowledge that they were very close to their destination. After so long time had become nothing more than a mash of instances, and she was almost surprised how far they’d come without her realizing it. She and her companion moved mechanically onward, motivated by the promise of pie. <span style='color:gray'>“Hey, what time is it?" </span>Her voice came out a hoarse whisper; neither had spoken since the start of their little escapade and it was an effort to remember how it was done.
Starting off beside Patajs was awkward. He was unused to such tempered company, though saying that he half expected her to quickly turn on him - just to liven things up a tad. Yet as time dragged on, he found himself thinking less and less of Patajs. The white assassin had become nothing more than an accessory in his mind; a device or a method to achieve something much greater. Such things aren't always shared. Nevertheless, to deny the fact that Patajs had been neither pleasant nor annoying would be futile. Truth be told, he welcomed the silence as a good gesture, and was more than happy to reciprocate. Despite the silence, it had appeared he didn't drift into his usual contemplative state. It would be more accurate to say: "tormented state". Tough, hard wearing black boots thumped the ground - heel toe - with the sound of new rubber. Patajs had spent out on him. He supposed he wasn't all that presentable to go for a walk beside her Highness without some dark clothing. He wasn't one to complain, though. She'd given him a chance to try something new, and so black all it was. Half finger gloves, dark grey t-shirt, dark charcoal cargos and black steelies - not overly inventive, but when you have to consider functionality and comfort then Ivumo was certainly not about to strut out into the world trying to stick a flag in fashion. Watani was one of those mythical places to a nomadic Pendragon - a vampire no less. Despite the gift of flight, he'd never been so far out, and was certainly not letting on that he was more alert than usual. A change in attitude would signal a weakness, and to the over paranoid Vampiric Poltergeist weakness meant easy-target. Partly, this is what made him less motivated to kill Patajs. As they'd travelled from Vivuli to Watani, he'd sensed they both had a mutual detest for one another that was easy to work with. She was a flighty character - able to changer her attitude at will to suit a circumstance. This hadn't overly paid off when dealing with him, but he imagined it had to be good enough to have kept her alive this long. But he had to be thankful. Pie was on the menu. Watani. A place of the rich and well-to-do. A place of subtle sin and extravagant eccentricities. Hill and mountain-side dwellings for the loaded. Sturdy, up-scale houses down in the main streets for those with "quite a lot of cash". The superior mountain embedded adobes were - to Ivumo - somewhat like watchtowers. From the balconies one could look far across the night sky and oversee creatures milling about on the streets. He didn't mind being looked down upon, for often the more dangerous an object is the more squarely under your nose it is. Perhaps oddly, Patajs was the first to crack. The time... hm... He tilted his head up towards the starry blanket above to gauge the progress of the celestial bodies. "Early. Between 4 and 6." Blood red disc-like oculi noticed Patajs was suffering from the bitterly cold air. It sheeted off him, for the most part, due to his dense fur. But saying that, Patajs had a jacket and was still suffering. Maybe her Anubial blood was thinner than he'd thought. Such things aren't always shared. "How do you know about this place?" Turning his head away from her in mid sentence, he watched the stillness of the city, and began to think their passage was going to go unnoticed.
Oh- what a cute trick, he can look into a sunrise and tell it’s early. She took a deep breath of the briny air through her nostrils, and tried to hold her composure. The heavy salt flavor burned all the way to her lungs. Patajs was certain that she’d supplied him with a perfectly functional watch; there was no need for his ridiculous pioneer-style time telling. It was as stupid as using moss instead of a compass- and getting on your knees to pray the damn plant pointed toward civilization. She decided not to start anything; the time wasn’t terribly important anyways- she knew they were very close to their destination. The scenery changed quite suddenly; thick clusters of evergreens and deciduous trees thinned and gave way to posh little houses and quaint boutiques. The streets were still dark and quiet, save for a few early risers leisurly taking in the calm atmosphere of such an ungodly hour. It was a sweet, familiar feeling. The smell of rising dough wafeted mischeviously beneath the Thill's nose as they passed by a bakery preparing for it's morning sales, and her stomach tightened faintly in a cramp of hunger. Her train of thought immediately shifted to the Watering Hole. It was one of her most frequented huants in Watani, and her appetite bade her to get their quickly. She felt it'd be the perfect spot to take her vampiric playmate, and probably a good place for them to part ways. She furrowed her eyebrows at the thought; Patajs had been toying with the idea on and off throughout their trip, but now she was giving it serious contemplation. Watani was where she’d planned to be from the beginning, and all she really needed was a guide and a bit of muscle to see her safely out of unfamiliar territory. Now that she had her bearings there was no real reason to keep him. The necessities she bought were payment for his usefulness, but the thought crossed her mind to eat and slip away when they arrived; let Ivumo foot the bill. In the long run it was best for both parties. A target was on the assassin's back, and babysitting the boy would most likely make her dead. She needed to keep on the move and keep out of sight, and what better place to hide than in the bustling city of Watani? Patajs wanted to put a face to the nameless employer of her would-be-killers, Watani was full of sources to find the answers. It was time to get down to business, and as amusing as Ivumo had been up until then, he was only in the way... She cleared her throat before speaking again, "I’ve been here many times…”
Ivumo quickly recalled why he had appreciated all that silence. Her words brought with them a sense of unease, and - frankly - the Vampiric Poltergeist cared little for her travelling-shadow's shallow worries. Yet, for how little he cared, he still did "care" to know what had brought her to such an awkwardly stunning place. Even at night, Watani was a vision of technological beauty, and apparent affluence. So what did Patajs do? What brought her to the back end of nowhere and then to the upper-class environment? To have business in two drastically different places (and to appear to pop in and out of both atmospheres so quickly) was, to him, a little on the odd side. There were ways around approaching a topic, but in true Vampire style, Ivumo wanted to cut straight to the heart of the matter. "Been here before," He gave a considerate, although restrained, glance leftways and rightways, "Why?". Conceivably snappy in manner, he still did care very little as to why; he cared even less for small-talk. Perhaps because he wasn't good at it - but it wasn't like he had much time to practise such a mediocre means of communicating. Curtains pulled, lights switched on. Silhouetted figures sauntered by their expensive cliff-face-abode windows, high above their heads. His ears twitched to the sound of these windows opening, letting in gallons of distinctly cold - but spicy - air.
Patajs’ golden eyes roved over the arden’s profile, her face creased in a look of pure perplexity at his sudden garrulous attitude. “Talkative today aren’t we?” It was strange how his voice just ate up the silence, the calm. It was certainly an irritation being forced to acknowledge his presence beside her. She turned her face away and grunted pensively; the thill wondered if giving him an answer would only encourage this strange outburst of small talk. “Business…” She certainly hoped her chilled tone would deliver the appropriate message. The lights from windows cast long shadows on the street below, stretched and repulsed by the brightness. The sun slowly crept up as well; rays of amber wash seeped through the alleyways and suddenly flooded the road like water around their ankles. It wasn’t hard to spot trouble in the empty boulevard, but it was surprising. She had hoped to avoid unwanted attention at least until after she ate. A group of unfriendly faces filed out from around the corner a ways ahead, it was obvious who they were, but strange to see them on the move at this hour- it was certainly very unlucky on her part. One arden stopped when he noticed the pair; Patajs had very unique traits, especially for an assassin, but her solo reputation was notorious, maybe that’s why he hesitated before alerting his group. Ivumo proved useful once again. Patajs reacted instantly; grasping the vampire’s arm and snuggling her check against his shoulder she whispered his instructions evenly. “I’m going to need you to calmly turn down the next street and not make a scene, don’t look around or we’re dead…” In the simple guise of an intimate couple she plotted their escape, Patajs knew they would recognize her, she could only throw them off for a second or two, but then- that's all she would need.
Like most things, Ivumo had noticed the obvious disturbance in the middle of the street. A hooded entourage, muttering amongst themselves, snatched up his attention. Their attitude - their demeanour - a clan of the streets; but what bearing they could have had on their passage was initially beyond him. The study of them was momentary; the grasp around his arm and the press against his chest was sudden - unnervingly so. Patajs manoeuvred herself so close that he'd felt an uncomfortable chill envelope his body. It was just... too slick. Slick enough that - for the first time in his life - Ivumo had no other choice but to play along. Her grip was firm enough to substantiate the motive underlying her words. It didn't take a Master Hunter to pick up on a tactic or two. Uncontrollably, his Vampiric nature latched onto the position of the every increasing group. More and more continued to appear from the darkness of alley ways: some from the left and right, and some approaching from the middle of the street. His ears stood proud once more; his hackles grew bristly. Ivumo visibly grew in size. The Vampiric Poltergeist cooperated 100%. He firmly put his arm over her farthest shoulder and brought his hand across to be in line with her nearest shoulder, effectively securing her close proximity. There were no two ways about it: she could break away if he or she wanted to, but to maintain the image he made sure the gesture appeared as genuine as he could. His eyes froze at one size; his iris quivered as they tracked the apex of the next turning. The svelte amber ambience darted around the darkness of his eyes. With a minor adjustment to his pace, his steps swiftly matched her own. His free hand stuffed itself into the side pocket of his cargos - his thumb hooked over the opening and rested atop a metallic decorative eyelet. "Unfamiliar territory. It'd be fucking foolish to hunt here... too many eyes. Learn this place fast" He whispered aloud, "...foolish". His inanimate arm and hand draped over Patajs wiry frame resembled a heavy wreath of sorts - of the dark red and black variety. To a degree, Ivumo didn't mind what was happening, because, to him, this was like the chase rather than the catch. This, to Ivumo, was like obtaining the upper hand and having the leverage to strike when the prey least expected it. There was also the reality that the numbers gathering in the streets had developed into an impossible head-on challenge. Regardless of regeneration and Vampiric strength, he would most surely have been killed - if the group indeed intended to inflict mortal harm. Then it struck him... "Friends of yours?" As he spoke, he carefully pulled Patajs around the next corner - as instructed - and never looked back. As instructed.
Just as instructed. Patajs let the arden casually guide her down the nearest, quiet little side street, where there seemed to be a working theme of largely plumed greenery draped from fashionably ornate earthenware- they clustered under every window and hung above every doorway. The flowery environment was grouped so tightly together it became less of an urban street and more of a muddled jungle. The thill grazed the heavy hand adorned languorously about her shoulders with seemingly affectionate fingers; it was an adjustment to be considered small in comparison to anyone, and she was almost impressed he complimented her with such ease. Smiling sweetly she giggled at his question so convincingly innocent that anyone would for a moment forget that she was still only a sanguinary assassin through and through. “If friends are usually waiting to killing you in the most brutal way possible, than yes.” Really it was no laughing matter, but she thought it important to keep the exigency of the situation out of her voice, and off of her face. Truly, the odds had just stacked high against her. As soon as they rounded the street corner Patajs had begun to scrutinize their new surroundings with some urgency. It was vital she came up with a solid plan of escape- quickly, and if memory served there was a storehouse not far off that she had sometimes used to keep a cache of supplies for such times of desperation. Now the tricky part was reaching it without being seen or dying. It wouldn’t be easy by any means; the arden, who was so unaccustomed to the city, was a considerable handicap, and Patajs had for awhile been feeling the effects of weeks of little to no sleep, she refused to let it show, but she was constantly exhausted; her thoughts were becoming hazy and her decisions more and more careless. A little ways off someone’s front door began to open with a groan as tired hinges grated together; Patajs ears flickered toward the sound and a look of cunning spread into her liquid gold eyes. An idea had struck, which solidified as a yawning thill stepped out onto her front porch, unaware of the two that approached. She reached into her purse and fumbled around with its contents, searching for the right keys to lock the door. Patajs dislodged Ivumo’s arm from her shoulders and giving his hand a gentle squeeze she whispered his next instructions. “Follow me, and stay close…” Patajs moved with fluid precision and timing, seizing a small blade from the interior of her heavy coat she advanced. The intended target turned to secure her front door and in that small window of time the assassin was upon her; grabbing her mouth for silence Patajs pierced the venerable flesh beneath the jaw line with practiced ease. There was only a stifled cry of surprise before the thill slumped into her killer’s arms. Bending down she passed under the small doorway and dropped the corpse neatly onto a couch as she passed by.
