Silence + Iseut //
Who: Silence and Iseut
When: 23rd October, evening
Where: Alleyways behind the Marketplace
Ratings & Warnings: None, really. It's very civilised.
The events with the Citadel had put a pall on more than one avenue of business. Not only were people less likely to draw attention to themselves through hiring an assassin, but half the time their chosen targets were already dead, and the other half they were in hiding so deep as to warrant twice the effort to find them. It was vexing, and Silence had had to make a severe cut in prices to accommodate for the steep rise in crime in other segments of the city. The destruction the false God had left in his wake had left many homeless, more still jobless, and the result was a swathe of illicit activity.
Cita’s balls, but it was humiliating to be taking out such a low level noble as this. The man was pitiful, but luck was swinging his way. He was a ferret, a rat hiding in plain sight, and although Silence’s feet had healed now to the point of being useable, at times the tendons ached and the skin stretched like only the newest could, and if the prat didn’t stop wandering into the public eye and head homewards soon, he was going to end up gutted like a fish in the middle of the market.
There! Down an alley the imbecile went, aware that he was followed, too stupid to stay amongst the many where he was safe. Silence whisked after him in a swirl of winter cloak. The chillier, windier weather meant that it was not too much to expect for people to cover their faces even in daylight hours. Silence walked abroad, slipping unseen between this and that person, until he was alone with his prey.
After that, it was but the work of a single slash across the throat.
Simples.
Iseut was lost. This, she thought mournfully, was one advantage to having guards with her normally. She may have been in Tyrol for a few months now, and did her best to escape the confines of either her estate or, as was the case now, the Hold, when she was able to, but that did not give her more than a beginner's idea of the city.
She curled up in her cloak and frowned at the alleys. Whatever this place was, she definitely did not want to be here. She wanted to be around people, and she could ask for directions from them and finally go where it was safe, warm, and hopefully with food.
Iseut paid some attention to the men in front of her, only because other living creatures that were not dogs were notable. Otherwise, she did not think much more on them until she heard - well. Very little, but it was enough to make her lower her head further and pick up her pace to leave the area.
When Silence emerged from the alleyway, it was as a tall, slender silhouette that was cleaning a blade on a piece of cloth. Between the alley of unfortunate demise and the marketplace, the intersection was nigh on clear of bodies. Of the living, though, there was one solitary figure, and it was leaving at a rate which suggested that it had heard, or seen, far more than was customarily considered safe. This was not a point in time at which it was safe to have the guards breathing down your neck, and so with rapid-fire decision, Silence prowled after the lone woman.
The only announcement he made was a snap of wind through the fabric of his cloak as he sidestepped into her path, A gentle, yet firm hand invaded the woman - no, girl’s - personal space and guided her to the wall they stood beside.
“Beg pardon,” he said, politely. “You don’t look as though you should be wandering this neighbourhood alone.”
Iseut pulled away the best she could from the person, the man, that was touching her. She did not stand on ceremony for much, but she did not approve of unasked for touch from strange people.
"I am lost," she responded, willing her voice not to waiver. She was only somewhat successful at it, but not as much to hide it. "I am trying to find a street that would lead back to the center of Tyrol." He was frightening, but perhaps he knew his way around. Regardless, it would not bode ill to ask. "Do you know the way there?"
A noble by the sounds of it. Silence’s eyes narrowed from above his mask, running a clipped glance over her features in an attempt to narrow down her bloodline. There was perhaps something of the Bercator in her nose, but precious little. The rest… Aronine, he thought, and hazarded a guess at it. If she wasn’t used to being recognised, it would only lend him more strength. “There are several ways, Miss Aronine,” he confirmed. “But I’m a little concerned - lots of nasty things could happen to a lady alone in here.” He cocked his head, glanced at the still unsheathed knife in his hand. A light, meaningful shrug followed.
Most people couldn't pick up on her family as quickly, if the vague surprise after she introduced herself was any indication.
"Yes. I did not mean to come this way in the first place." She pulled her cloak closer around her in vague protection. "If you could point me into the correct direction, I would go on my way."
She wondered if she should mention that she was going to the Hold, but kept her silence on the matter for now. There were dangers in that, she had been told, although it was not something she had cause to think about before.
It was a silly girl who walked the backstreets of the city without protection. The knife in Silence's hand glinted as he lifted it, toying with the hilt between gloved fingertips. Killing an Aronine would not be particularly circumspect at this time, but letting her go would be further risk. The decision made, the very tip of it pressed quicksharp to the underside of the girl's chin. A long moment passed in absolute quiet.
"Drop your purse," he said, quietly. "And your jewels. Keep your hands where I can see them."
Iseut glared at him. Trembling, yes, and with no way to stop this man, but she was an Aronine. They held the greatest military power in the city, and she was only half ignorant of what her youngest uncle was in charge of. It meant little here, but it meant pride. She would not shame them in this.
She dropped her purse onto the ground between them. It was not much, in the grand scheme of things (though her ‘not much’ was quite different from many others); she rarely needed much. As for jewels... "I have no jewels." She lifted her hands, wrists bare. He would be able to tell she wore no necklace. "I am I- I am an Aronine. We do not need jewels."
"Indeed." The Aronines and their pride in lack of ornamentation were known enough to Silence as to render him unsurprised to the lack. It was not the bounty he sought here, but pressure to the point of where a stupid noble dared walk. This was his turf, and if she was to leave at all, she was to take with her a reminder that money and privilege did not render one safe. The blade on the assassin's foot caught the purse and flipping it with cavalier arrogance into the palm of his right hand, and the point of the dagger nipped at her skin, forcibly, slowly turning her head towards an alleyway one block down. A kiss of blood stained the steel as it was withdrawn.
"The main marketplace is that way," he said, softly. "Be smart, Aronine. I know where you sleep."
Iseut swallowed, feeling the knife prick her throat. If he wasn't letting her go, she wasn't sure what she would've done in response to that and trying to escape. It took her a few moments to swallow and regain her wits, and a few more to realize that he had given her the directions that she needed to get to the marketplace.
A few more, after that, to realize that he had threatened her.
Well and so; many people knew where she slept. That was one of the things that came with being the daughter of Victor Aronine.
Her brothers may have tried for false, or for true, bravado. Iseut just nodded and ran in the direction that he pointed to.
When: 23rd October, evening
Where: Alleyways behind the Marketplace
Ratings & Warnings: None, really. It's very civilised.
The events with the Citadel had put a pall on more than one avenue of business. Not only were people less likely to draw attention to themselves through hiring an assassin, but half the time their chosen targets were already dead, and the other half they were in hiding so deep as to warrant twice the effort to find them. It was vexing, and Silence had had to make a severe cut in prices to accommodate for the steep rise in crime in other segments of the city. The destruction the false God had left in his wake had left many homeless, more still jobless, and the result was a swathe of illicit activity.
Cita’s balls, but it was humiliating to be taking out such a low level noble as this. The man was pitiful, but luck was swinging his way. He was a ferret, a rat hiding in plain sight, and although Silence’s feet had healed now to the point of being useable, at times the tendons ached and the skin stretched like only the newest could, and if the prat didn’t stop wandering into the public eye and head homewards soon, he was going to end up gutted like a fish in the middle of the market.
There! Down an alley the imbecile went, aware that he was followed, too stupid to stay amongst the many where he was safe. Silence whisked after him in a swirl of winter cloak. The chillier, windier weather meant that it was not too much to expect for people to cover their faces even in daylight hours. Silence walked abroad, slipping unseen between this and that person, until he was alone with his prey.
After that, it was but the work of a single slash across the throat.
Simples.
Iseut was lost. This, she thought mournfully, was one advantage to having guards with her normally. She may have been in Tyrol for a few months now, and did her best to escape the confines of either her estate or, as was the case now, the Hold, when she was able to, but that did not give her more than a beginner's idea of the city.
She curled up in her cloak and frowned at the alleys. Whatever this place was, she definitely did not want to be here. She wanted to be around people, and she could ask for directions from them and finally go where it was safe, warm, and hopefully with food.
Iseut paid some attention to the men in front of her, only because other living creatures that were not dogs were notable. Otherwise, she did not think much more on them until she heard - well. Very little, but it was enough to make her lower her head further and pick up her pace to leave the area.
When Silence emerged from the alleyway, it was as a tall, slender silhouette that was cleaning a blade on a piece of cloth. Between the alley of unfortunate demise and the marketplace, the intersection was nigh on clear of bodies. Of the living, though, there was one solitary figure, and it was leaving at a rate which suggested that it had heard, or seen, far more than was customarily considered safe. This was not a point in time at which it was safe to have the guards breathing down your neck, and so with rapid-fire decision, Silence prowled after the lone woman.
The only announcement he made was a snap of wind through the fabric of his cloak as he sidestepped into her path, A gentle, yet firm hand invaded the woman - no, girl’s - personal space and guided her to the wall they stood beside.
“Beg pardon,” he said, politely. “You don’t look as though you should be wandering this neighbourhood alone.”
Iseut pulled away the best she could from the person, the man, that was touching her. She did not stand on ceremony for much, but she did not approve of unasked for touch from strange people.
"I am lost," she responded, willing her voice not to waiver. She was only somewhat successful at it, but not as much to hide it. "I am trying to find a street that would lead back to the center of Tyrol." He was frightening, but perhaps he knew his way around. Regardless, it would not bode ill to ask. "Do you know the way there?"
A noble by the sounds of it. Silence’s eyes narrowed from above his mask, running a clipped glance over her features in an attempt to narrow down her bloodline. There was perhaps something of the Bercator in her nose, but precious little. The rest… Aronine, he thought, and hazarded a guess at it. If she wasn’t used to being recognised, it would only lend him more strength. “There are several ways, Miss Aronine,” he confirmed. “But I’m a little concerned - lots of nasty things could happen to a lady alone in here.” He cocked his head, glanced at the still unsheathed knife in his hand. A light, meaningful shrug followed.
Most people couldn't pick up on her family as quickly, if the vague surprise after she introduced herself was any indication.
"Yes. I did not mean to come this way in the first place." She pulled her cloak closer around her in vague protection. "If you could point me into the correct direction, I would go on my way."
She wondered if she should mention that she was going to the Hold, but kept her silence on the matter for now. There were dangers in that, she had been told, although it was not something she had cause to think about before.
It was a silly girl who walked the backstreets of the city without protection. The knife in Silence's hand glinted as he lifted it, toying with the hilt between gloved fingertips. Killing an Aronine would not be particularly circumspect at this time, but letting her go would be further risk. The decision made, the very tip of it pressed quicksharp to the underside of the girl's chin. A long moment passed in absolute quiet.
"Drop your purse," he said, quietly. "And your jewels. Keep your hands where I can see them."
Iseut glared at him. Trembling, yes, and with no way to stop this man, but she was an Aronine. They held the greatest military power in the city, and she was only half ignorant of what her youngest uncle was in charge of. It meant little here, but it meant pride. She would not shame them in this.
She dropped her purse onto the ground between them. It was not much, in the grand scheme of things (though her ‘not much’ was quite different from many others); she rarely needed much. As for jewels... "I have no jewels." She lifted her hands, wrists bare. He would be able to tell she wore no necklace. "I am I- I am an Aronine. We do not need jewels."
"Indeed." The Aronines and their pride in lack of ornamentation were known enough to Silence as to render him unsurprised to the lack. It was not the bounty he sought here, but pressure to the point of where a stupid noble dared walk. This was his turf, and if she was to leave at all, she was to take with her a reminder that money and privilege did not render one safe. The blade on the assassin's foot caught the purse and flipping it with cavalier arrogance into the palm of his right hand, and the point of the dagger nipped at her skin, forcibly, slowly turning her head towards an alleyway one block down. A kiss of blood stained the steel as it was withdrawn.
"The main marketplace is that way," he said, softly. "Be smart, Aronine. I know where you sleep."
Iseut swallowed, feeling the knife prick her throat. If he wasn't letting her go, she wasn't sure what she would've done in response to that and trying to escape. It took her a few moments to swallow and regain her wits, and a few more to realize that he had given her the directions that she needed to get to the marketplace.
A few more, after that, to realize that he had threatened her.
Well and so; many people knew where she slept. That was one of the things that came with being the daughter of Victor Aronine.
Her brothers may have tried for false, or for true, bravado. Iseut just nodded and ran in the direction that he pointed to.