Whoops! (Wrenmae)

[Ana Sol Starris]

Winter 13th, 511AV Stumble Alley

It had been a really antagonizingly, boring, drawn out, long day, or well a few hours long to be precise. Especially when it was starting in the morning to place herself within a hiding spot of Stumble Alley. She had scouted it a few days past, being quick and furtive about it she had found the perfect spot to lay low and wait for anyone to come by. A pile of empty and weather worn crates, beginning to rot lightly and then the small bit of roofing above it. Perfect. She hadn't noticed the little alley was absent of life, nor did she care to ask herself why or even ask the locals how come. It didn't matter though, everything was worth a try and if it meant not having to deal with other theives then so be it.

Having of situated herself in her hiding place more or less around the same time she had entered the alley a few days ago. On the first of the crates, crouched behind the second latter of crates on top of the first. She had clear veiw from both sides to look to her left and right while remaining hidden. Not that it mattered, like she had slept at all during the night before or the day before that. Ana was not tired in the least bit, the edge of hunger made sure to make it even harder with those wretched nightmares so she didn't bother trying. Eventually she would just pass out cold in her little shyke hole of a shelter, having of let it be the one safe area during the blood soaked nights of crinimals and such.

This though, oh this had been agonizing, it was just awful. The alley had nothing to give in forms of entertainment, why hadn't she just noticed it now?! No people had passed by since she situated herself, and she was pretty dang sure it had been for hours at least. Her legs were beginning to cramp up from being in the crouched posisition for so long, they ached and screamed to be stretched but still Ana kept still. Watching half attentively, being bored and what not for any sign of life she could pickpocket from. Ana waited and waited, when someone passed by, she wasn't certain that in her weakened state she could handle him. That was another problem, no people meant no cover, which meant higher chance of getting caught.

Face palming, her hand had made a light slap and she began wobbling to make her way to follow the man from the shadows. Hoping he didn't hear her uneven foot steps or even some clumsy movements on her part, her feet had fallen deeply asleep from being in the same position for so long. Maybe I can sneak behind him and just hope.. She began to think to herself of the prospect of mizas, and food, oh sweet glorius food. Her stomach growled on its own accord, she was going to pick pocket him as the thought of food deterred her thoughts of sensibility and caution.

Ana began to make her move to victemize the targets pockets.

[Wrenmae]

Stumble Alley.

The name itself evoked an almost comical image. To the extent of human mishaps, the notion an alley might be named for a recurring event was, in itself, a marvelous concept. However, Sunberth was not a place that fostered humor. No, no, here the buildings closed in like walls and the putrefaction of every out of work thug and body raised the odor in the air to the point of being a pale pallor, some phantom monster with neither form nor reason for its molestation. Sunberth grasped the noble spirit by its throat and tore the life from its inert body. The people here were, at least mostly, little better than animals. Dumb, short-sighted animals.

It was Shroud this time, released by the steaming viscera seen during his interaction with Mok. Now he existed as he should, cool and collected. Freedom was the sensation Wrenmae had wrestled with during his incarceration beneath the ground these seasons past, but Shroud had fought it since his conception, years ago when Vayt bestowed such a lovely gift.

Imagine, to be told one would remain healthy and strong as the world withered around them...imagine the freedom there, the strength! Why the boy had hid from this from so long was ludicrously outside Shroud's powers of deduction. Instead he would simply have to make use of the time he had in control. No one held sovereignty over the body for long. The mind was damaged, rebelling against its host in four factions. Shroud liked to consider himself the more intelligent and ambitious of the pieces, certainly more couth than the vile Weaver.

Shroud afforded himself a grin, a small one. His plans were in their infancy, simply becoming part of the Crimson Edge the most dominating part of his task now. Later would come more...lucrative ventures.

It was the shuffling behind him, tired feet and poorly timed execution robbing Ana of her surprise.

It took little skill to draw a long dagger, scarcely a thought at all. It took even less to turn, such instinctual movements granted by virtue of childhood experimentation and whimsy. Combined, however, they were in deadly synchrony.

Shroud turned, dark eyes bright with murder, dagger raising up to cut and adapted ever so slightly to simply graze against the milky skin of her neck. Instead, Shroud held the dagger up, stepping forward and taking the collar of her cloak with the other hand and forcibly pushing her against the wall.

Stumble Alley, a foolish place of pickpockets and cutthroats. The lot of them were worse than shift, armed leeches with wide eyes and starving hands...

But so early?

Could he afford to be so bloodthirsty this early?

He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath and chuckling, Opening them again to look at her with a cold, dark, gaze.

"Poor form, thief," he chastised, tapping the blade against her chin and shaking his head sadly, "Your survival is owed to my unseasonable mercy, and thus we find ourselves in strange straits indeed."

He pushed his face forward, brushing her lips with his own before moving past them and toward her ear, his words tickling just beside her lobe, dagger still pressed almost painfully against the base of her throat.

"Your life is in my hands, little sparrow, and I find I am not sure I need it." His smile curled against her skin, she could feel the mirth there, "Tell me, little sparrow, have you accomplished enough with your life to die...here, in this alley...alone?"

[Ana Sol Starris]

Feeling, rather than seeing what had just happened. Ana soon realized with wide eyes that she was now against a wall, some foreign object pressing into the skin of her neck quite painfully. Though that pain washed out with a sharp kick of adrenaline when he chuckled. Sending a long shiver down her spine to resonate through her body, it had began to ceaselessly tremble knowing she had screwed up, and badly too. The mans hand gripping her by the front of her cloak was firm, pushing her into the wall, the blade, perhaps a dagger was what had been placed at her neck ready to take her life at any moment. There was no escape here.

Her senses were that of a scared animal, Ana knew she was in deep trouble, she was looking past him and she soon realized why Stumble Alley was so deserted. The walls had began closing, shifting, turning in and out around her like an illusion or maybe it was just her own head playing tricks on her. Time seemed to slow to a painful stop, she could only hear her slow heart beat and the mans words quite painfully clearly against her ear. He had called her a theif, "poor formed?" What did that mean, she mused sarcastically under her breath. Not realizing she had said it outloud as her thoughts were a jumble of wanting to dash and run and then the dagger bringing her back into reality she couldn't escape this.

Again, that blade of his, it didn't hold her life but the owner did at this very moment, he was playing god. All muscles in her body seemed to tense and tighten, locking her in place as she still trembled from the sheer fear of this man. The nickname wanted to make her giggle, how could anyone think of her as a bird though her mind did roam freely as a bird did fly. The proposal he offered to her, was he asking her if she wanted to live? Was he really offering mercy and not simply just playing with her like cat and mouse? Of course she didn't want to die, she hadn't accomplished enough, the urge to live grew drastically as she realized if he didn't spare her she couldn't be the theif like her role model was.

Thats when her eyes began welling up, her body convulsing in shakes of trying to hold back tears and be strong "n-no," she stuttered, the fear evident in her voice "I've gott-gotta be just like him, just like him!" Her voice rose beyond a choked whisper in case he couldn't hear her the first time. If the dagger hadn't been there, she would have turned her head away but was thankful he couldn't see her face- or maybe he could. What a weakling she was, looked like, how could someone like him offer mercy to someone like her "I-i did-didn't come to thi-this godsforsaken ci-city t-to die l-like a dog, s-sir" she put in formality trying to keep her words understandable, ever being the polite one.

What was she to do, options of escape were long gone. She had cast the die, she had ignored warning and caution. Her plan was poorly thought out, she had no way of knowing what could have happened. Other times she had screwed up, she was lucky she could escape with scratches, bruises, cuts, some fractures, even with just her own life with nothing gained in the process and even then as a child, those awful days of being bed ridden! Wanting to know the world, she had overcome that but it still returned especially with this cold weather. She was a survivor, but what the man chose would either end her luck or set her higher on a path she was already traversing.

Ana had no idea what outcome there could be.

[Wrenmae]

"Poor form, you dolt," Shroud hissed, annoyance crossing his tone like a sudden rattle, "Your efforts to relieve me of my coins was performed poorly." He eased back, looking her in the eyes again with his own dark gaze and frowned. The dagger was maintained against her throat, toying gently with the skin of her neck. He seemed to be waiting for something, looking her up and down as his other hand untied the cloak around her shoulders and let it drop to the alley floor, taking her in without the guise of anonymity about her.

She was attractive, at least in the rugged sense. Dirt touched her features and clung beneath her fingernails, there was desperation in her eyes but she kept still at the behest of the dagger. No violent struggle, no offering of coin. Good, she was an honest thief then.

Or perhaps bad.

Honesty had no place here, in Sunberth.

It was easier to cut her throat and take her things. Alone she was likely unmissed, parentless, familyless, and ultimately forgettable in the eyes of history. He certainly had no real use for her, and granting her mercy was an act of poorly regarded charity. Should she live to recover, would she not take revenge for this affront to her person?

Would he have more to worry about from a dagger from the darkness rather than her grubby hands?

Too risky, especially for someone just beginning in Sunberth.

In his mind, he pulled the dagger. The blade bit into her throat and carved another mouth across her pallid skin. Blood cascaded from the wound even as her hands rose to dam the blood where it belonged. He watched the arc of his dagger, slipping beneath her upturned hands and sliding neatly between her breasts.

She did not so much as fall as crumble to the ground, all the air and light rushing out of her and into the nothingness around him. Vayt, Vayt would laugh, and in that sense this death would be a prayer to him.

Blood drenched the stones, running along the cracks in the alley, framing her cloudy eyes as they looked upon another world...

But his knife did not move, instead withdrew.

Shroud fought, suddenly, swiftly, for control, but it was for naught. To Ana, Wrenmae's face contorted suddenly, a painful grimace twisting his mouth downward as his eyes widened with sudden harsh realization. The darkness was banished from the eyes, drops of color spinning from the center till black was a gentle brown.

The dagger dropped from his hand to the ground and Wrenmae pressed a hand up against his forehead. There was a languid horror in his eyes, a dull realization of what he was seeing.

"Gods...gods, I'm sorry." He fell back a bit, but not far enough to allow her passage.

All of Shroud's activities, from the moment he had met Mok till now, they were the sickening dream Wrenmae had seen since his imprisonment beneath Sunberth. This place...this place was a plague. It called to the darkest parts of human nature, bid them dance, bid them slay, bid them sell their dreams for pennies and patchwork blankets.

This place...was like an open sore on the face of all civilization.

And it was Shroud's home.

He drew his second dagger, menacing her with it as he thought. The Crimson Edge wasn't a bad place to be...necessarily. Shroud had his purposes for it, but in that organization was a measure of protection. Shroud had no use for the girl, not any that he could think of...and in a place like Sunberth, Wrenmae could only keep the monster at bay for so long. Instead he'd have to convince his other side she needed to exist...

What would interest such a grim fragment of himself?

What would interest Vayt?

"I...I'll spare you," he said at last, shutting one eye against the headache of Shroud roiling behind his mind, "On one condition."

Reaching forward his his magic, Wrenmae caught her eyes with his. Connection established. Djed coiled up from his stomach, lazy serpent, slithering out between them on gossamer strands of aura. In her mind, Wrenmae poured the Hypnotic Djed, at first relaxing her barriers and forcing an unnatural calm to take precedence.

"Listen, I hold your life in my hands now, I will return it to you when you have served a length of time I deem appropriate." He paused, wrestling with this level of manipulation and the collateral damage on his own moral code...was this really him now? "I do not require consistent service, but if I ask something of you...I expect you to perform it. So long as you remain in my power, I will protect you...as I protect all my investments."

That was enough.

But something bid him continue.

"You cannot possibly be content with who you are now...can you? Thieves are like leeches, feeding off the strong. Before I release you, I expect for you to grow your ambitions...find another task more worthy of your time." Holding up a hand, he placed it on her arm, removing it quickly. In her mind he sent the sudden blinding illusion of a flashing symbol on her skin, blue and with curved edges and sweeping angles, before it faded back, blending with the color of her flesh. "Theft is a hobby, or it will be, and when you have reached the pinnacle of your skills...you will not need to take from the beggers on the streets...they will give freely to you."

A drop of blood, like a tear drop, fell from his eye down his cheek. Wrenmae reached up and smeared it, wiping it away, stepping back from her and retrieving his dropped dagger, sheathing both.

"Now tell me," he said, Hypnotism gone from his voice, "What did you mean by 'stronger than him'?"

Now that the event was over, the storyteller's natural curiosity provoked a forward motion away from what he had done....what he had worked on the sentient mind of another human being. Weaver was quiet behind his eyes, Shroud as well...both watched the events unfold with no small amount of amusement.

Shards of himself, but himself all the same.

That darkness resides in all human beings.

Wrenmae shivered, despite himself, waiting for an answer.

[Ana Sol Starris]

The dagger pressed against her neck tightened, she thought she had been seeing all of her life before her. Which wasn't much considoring, she blinked realizing he had taken her cloak off. Ana couldn't protest, the street was still cold as ever, she was scared of what he may want to do, thoughts of rape crossed her mind and she felt the panic rise even worse. Still she remained locked in her position, the dagger at her neck demanded it. She watched him there, time ultimately stopping as she felt her heart beat speed in dramatic thumps in her ears.

Waiting for his answer, he remained there, most likely thinking of what to do with her. She honestly wouldn't blame him if he killed her right there and now, Ana was a nobody for now. Her life was meaningless, even if she had big plans, that didn't make up for horrendous skill. The man was right, his words stung her pride but she knew if he let her go she'd be able to work on them further to become that grand master theif she wanted to be. But with the dagger still there at her throat, keeping her from escape, his choice was ultimate.

It suprised Ana, and greatly relieved her anxieties when he had finally removed the dagger from her neck but only to fall backwards as if in pain. She didn't move, more like her legs couldn't respond besides massive shaking out of shock. Watching him, she could easily escape this but she didn't. The weakness in her body demanded she sit, she could leave when she regained her strength but yet she couldn't bring herself to do it. Ana could not believe it, there was a soul in Sunberth that could show courtiousy to others? It was too good to be true, and made Ana a very lucky little theif.

Nodding lightly to him for the condition, she would agree to anything as she was in his debt for his descision. When he locked eyes with her she felt panic seize her again at a strange feeling that immeadetly wash out. Her energy was too weak to resist anything on that caliber, instead she welcomed the calm gladly. Calm hadn't been a feeling she experienced in a long time, in fact it almost felt dream like. Ana didn't care if it were a dream, inwardly she was acceptive to obey the words that bounced through her head while outwardly she gave the trance of the hyptonized. The next part that rolled into her, she didn't need to be told that as she would achieve that- failing wasn't an option, no matter how long it could take.

When the connection had broke, she blinked, feeling dazed and awkward. Remembering where she was, and whom was in front of her; her eyes caught the red and her own eyes seemed to widen. She never did like blood, afraid of the effects it would give her. Should she ask about the blood, or should she ignore it? As he went for his dagger, sheathing them, her body began to ache terribly. The tension and sudden calm had eased her pain sensors alive maybe? She didn't really understand but instead of focusing on the pain she pondered on what the heck just happened. His own question rang in her ears, she gave him a bit of reluctance to it but was grateful she wouldn't have to bother him about the blood- or maybe she should? She was, in a way concerned, no one bled at the eyes everyday.

"Just like him" she corrected politely "or even better," adding in as Ana pulled out a scuffed up book or perhaps a journal judging from the leather bound cover, out from her clothing. An item she always carried on her person when she had nothing else to hold, holding it out to him "I can't really explain who he is, it never gave a real name" she finished. Then she felt childish and began to hide the book away again "hes a theif in a book whos quick witted, sneaky, but kind" with that she blushed. What had come over her to explain her childhood hero to someone she just met? Albeit he did just let her live, figuring she had done it out of agreement.

Glancing at her arm for a second- the symbol in her mind very much alive, then back at him. Dismissing it as she kneeled down to grab her cloak and pull it around her. The winter was too petching cold not to have as much clothing you could wear on your person. Examining him as a whole quick she realized he was rather handsome, wondering though if she could ask a question and figured she might as well "I'm Ana Sol Starris," she began off "what would your name be? If I may be as so bold to ask."

[Wrenmae]

It took a moment or two, breathing free air again. Since the imprisonment, Wrenmae had not been wholly himself. First Weaver, then Shroud...a cavalcade of personalities to run his body and direct his limbs before he once again took control. What was Shroud planning? Why involve himself with the Crimson Edge? It didn't matter. Bob Barton had told him to seek protection with them, and Wrenmae found the city ill at ease with the lone soul. Something about this place crushed hope, leading it inward and crushing it downward. This was a place Vayt would like, love even...Sunberth was a city where only the strong lived in the lap of luxury.

He offered the girl a weak smile, still uneven by the switch in demeanor. "A character?" He asked, gazing at the beaten book with something akin to awe, "You're modeling yourself after a character in a story?"

Somewhere inside him, Weaver leaped suddenly at the chance to speak, Wrenmae twitched, pushing the notion down and smiling as widely as he could, nodding in appreciation. "Of course, of course...all of our lives are stories, are they not? We follow archetypes and paths, the rise and fall of dramatic context...we ARE characters, and if you follow the path of one put to page, surely you'll find...something."

He smiled, shrugging in place of other helpful advice.

Her name was full, beautiful, the syllables rolled off her tongue like rain drops and rushed across Wrenmae's skin. He smiled, shaking his head almost sadly. "Nothing nearly so pretty as yours, Wrenmae...Wrenmae Sek, of Alvadas...and not a name I imagine you are eager to know."

Awkward.

"I...I'm sorry," he said at last, putting a hand to his head, "This place drives people to...to do things, terrible things. I'm sorry for shocking you." A dry chuckle, winding smoke, a cigar...Shroud.

"Were you born here? I mean...how did you come to be alone...err, if it's alright for me to ask that is...and what do you do besides...erm"

He grasped for the words, pressing his hand to his forehead before letting it drop to his side, "Err...relieve people of their valuables...anything else, I mean."

[Ana Sol Starris]

She was watching him, having only breifly taken her eyes up as she forced herself back to a standing position. The cold was taking its toll really, if she didn't start moving she'd begin freezing. Whats wrong with this guy? She mused silently to herself, first he pulls a dagger next hes compliant to let me live and is even being nice. Whatever the case, the change in heart she was grateful for and would remember not to cross him in the anger zone again. Hopefully. What was he thinking, did she even want to know? The curiosity tugged at her.

Hardly reacting to his smile, she still looked at him with caution. Not knowing whether or not to be completely friendly or completely anti-social, she decided to be in the middle. His, what she percieved it as surprise; nodding lightly in confirmation, having of stashed the book back under her clothes "yeah, pretty much, my brother gave it to me.." she trailed off, she didn't want to say too much. Since coming to Sunberth she had never told anything about her family, cutthroats would surely travel to rob them blind. His twitch went unnoticed as she was frowning, choosing her words carefully of what to say next.

Listening to him ramble, she gave him a 'are you okay?' sorta smile. Giggling inwardly at his statement, she couldn't help but smile a bit wider at his understanding before nodding again "thats one way to put it sir" she chuckled a tiny bit then stopped, frowning. That was the first she laughed in a good natured for a long time, she stared at him, why was she getting so comfortable around a guy who just moments before had a dagger to her throat. Reminding herself quietly, people who threaten, were not to be trusted completely and to always be regaurded with suspicion.

Giving him another grin, he didn't realize this was not her true name nor did he suspect a fake one. But he gave what sounded like a place to her, shrugging it off for another time. The man looked troubled, she couldn't place why but her feet started numb a little "well, I am pleased to make your aquaintence" tilting her head lightly as if to splay curiosity "if I had not wanted your name, I wouldn't have given you mine without being asked for it first." It was a clear and simple statement, she wasn't lying to him.

The silence that prevaded afterwards left Ana with her toes wiggling around, trying to keep all sense into them. Petching sandals, why couldn't she have stolen better footwear? Not knowing what to exactly say, she looked towards the entrance of the alleyway, the quiet of it was really beginning to grate on her calmness. Though when he apoligized, she stared at him even more in surprise "y-your saying sorry?" Again, she couldn't believe it, the sudden change, it was awfully suspicious to her.

"To answer your question, no I wasn't" she started, annoyed now with the questions "my parents kept me locked in a room half my life because of sickness" the cold, melachony change to her voice as she began seeing the images of a fight taking place "I left because I wanted to be free, I have my older brother to thank for starting that dream." It was true, all of it was true. She only hoped he wouldn't ask for her city, eyes scanned the alleyway, she wanted out of this maddening place, not once halting her scanning "I have no other skills besides spying and being a coward, other than theiving of course Wrenmae" a smile, small, but noticable flicked across her face "I refuse to do things that most would if in my position."

Looking at him suddenly, a cold quiet leer of a stare, it had only just hit her, maybe he wanted to harm her family "why do you care?" She asked him coldly, the alley wasn't playing nice with her senses and her feet were really beginning to sting. She wanted to get moving to be warm, or in a tavern where she could hide in a corner just to stay warm but he just stood there. Ana couldn't bring herself to run, not like she could with her numbing feet.

[Wrenmae]

His smile faltered, her suspicion and mixed reactions leading his mind down faulty paths and pondering illusion. He found her charming in one moment, uninviting the next. It was hard to keep up with her, but he was trying. If Shroud sensed weakness, he'd slide in and take her life. Literally, Wrenmae held back the seething hatred of the weak inside of him and forced a smile awkwardly across his face. Gods...gods...why couldn't he be normal? Together? He remembered the haunting warning from the Hypnotism book...it warned of madness in the dark places where power dealt...had he pushed himself too far? He imagined his mind as ice, cracked and free floating, the bits of him that were and were not him floated to places of power inside.

His power kept them there, but only barely.

After all, he had been Shroud but moments before.

She was nervous, suspicious and rightly so. Moments before he had been but a breath away from cutting her pretty flesh, spilling her life to the hungry alleyway in some stupid show of mortal power. Even now his hands jerked away from his weapons, disgusted with what they had almost been forced to do.

He closed his eyes, sliding down the alleyway beside here, brick by misplaced brick, till he sat on the cold ground. "Once upon a time, there was a boy." He looked up at her, pulling his fur cape out of his pack and offering it to her. She looked cold and he had barely yet begun his tale, "This child was not like his brother, a strong fire maned soldier, or his sister, a fair red haired lady...he was unsightly, thin and dark of hair, like a glossy crow's feather." He took a breath. Hard story, first time he'd told it...after all. "As you can imagine, he wasn't his mother's son...he was the son of a mistress, but one that did not claim him."

"His father was a merchant, out of Syliras, if you must know, and thought to travel Taldera to Kalea, to the city of illusions...Alvadas." He smiled, bringing up his hands at the name of Alvadas, spinning his gestures as though casting a spell. "The journey was harsh, but the sights were unlike any seen before. The boy saw the city of Ravok, built on an Island, the walled Nyka and its monastic order...farther still he saw the Spires, and the massive Jamoura...black furred, apes! Talking apes that effortlessly swung from the highest trees and muttered philosophy as easily as a man." He smiled his arms wide at the mention of Jamoura.

"But the merchant was foolish, passing into Kalea during the winter...he was a burly man and thought himself greater than Zulrav, greater than the winds that scoured the mountain peaks." Gripping his hands around him, Wrenmae shivered, letting the cold seep into him...but not so deep as Kalea had those many years ago, "He realized his mistake too late, miles from Alvadas and stranded in the mountains, three children clamoring for food and shelter." His tone dropped, quieter, whispered. "The girl grew sick with fever, and with dying horses the father set off...alone, to find help for his children."

He paused here, sighing. Now came the part he would have to edit...a bit. No sense in telling her about his meeting with a god.

"He never returned, and the fever came upon the eldest as well...a warrior laid low by cold and snow. Even the youngest, the motherless boy, found himself coughing blood into his hands. All seemed lost and Kalea cared little...hungry mountains and hungrier stones, they supped the frozen blood and growled for more on moaning winds."

He stopped his tale, looking over at Ana and shrugging, "What was a boy to do? He left his siblings and wandered into the snow...and perhaps by a gods graces he stood, hunched and frozen, before a talking gateway...a gate that led him to Alvadas."

Sighing, Wrenmae brought his clothes closer to his skin, standing and shaking warmth back into his arms. "What I meant to say is that you don't have to fear anything from me...I won't hurt you now and I'm not interested in hunting your family. The world is too large, life too short, and flesh too weak to hold such petty angers in my heart. I want to tell a story that will entice the gods themselves to listen, to applaud, to remember my tale for all time...I've just...found myself in Sunberth for the time being, chasing another story...and I guess it's changed me a little, I'm sorry to have frightened you. Some would have expected it, being here, but I don't see cruelty in you...so I don't think you were born on these streets."

He shivered.

"No one should be."

[Ana Sol Starris]

Ana was alert of his movements to sit against the wall, sliding to the ground, she stayed standing as she watched him. Though it wouldn't do much for her if she continued to, Wrenmaes beginning of a story caught her very much by surprise. Blinking, she figured there would be no trouble during a story and thus sat down where she stood. The fur cloak looked magnificent, but she wasn't sure if he was being polite or just kind. Not realizing her shivers had been apparhently noticable, well, Ana hadn't noticed the cold much herself besides her numbing feet. She never really felt anything her mind wasn't focused on, shaking her head lightly and taking it to wrap it around her shoulders. Through his story, she listened to him quietly with full attention. At certain points, Anas body motions would resemble that of someone entertained. A very certain point, at the mention of the Jamouras especially her eyes lit up and seemed to twinkle at the thought of the apes, talking monkeys. She had let a small gasp of amazement, a wide and eager smile to hear more. How she loved storys, they never ceased to amuse her even if they were told over and over, again and again. When the story began to turn grim, so did her features, the very images popping up in front of her eyes as she imagined the four souls, an invouluntary shiver travelled her spine.

The little theif leaned closer to hear his words, feeling the tension building slowly. The sickness she could relate to, especially with the girl. His pause made the hair on her neck stand and pull the fur closer around her, he was really good at this story telling biz or Ana was just easily drawn in. Either way, it didn't matter. She didn't think once he had hidden truth, but that it was a hard story to tell and best with these sorts to raise the pressure. Her face was down cast, realizing that the red haired girl and the fire manned warrior didn't survive but then cheered up considerably that the other boy had. At least someone did. Worst of all, even when he told her he had meant no harm. She had actually caught a part of the moral of the story, stupid, prideful people leading others got people killed. Watching him stand, she leaned back to keep an eye on his face though most of the suspicion and the hostility was gone. People who told storys, didn't come off to be as bad people and wondered why had she accused him in the first place? The dagger to the throat, maybe he had thought her a danger; those black eyes of his, the malice, no they weren't black anymore more like brown. Had it been a trick of the light? "I agree with you Wrenmae, no one should" she began to him "I'm surprised I've survived these four long years."

Sighing, Ana looked down at her feet with eyes closed. How especially petched she was as her world began to sway in the black, she was tired and for the past three days she had been running on no sleep, little to no food, just enough water to get by. Forcing herself to stand on them while hand pressed against the wall gave her support and straightening up to look alert. Looking at him, his story was inspiring but her gut knew it was real, had he told her his life story? No, maybe not, but it was a start. Her energy was waning, the fast paced events and the tension of today had taken what reserves Ana had "the story is good, y'know" looking at him, his eyes at eye level, wondering if it had really been the trick of the light or a illusion of the alley. No, they weren't black, then she had been imagining things from her shock and terror.

Eyes darted to the ground, then around to peruse the alley, she had been so mesmerized with the story she had completely forgotten to continue her habit of making sure the area was safe to be in. Senses doubled up in paranoia and now she was keeping an eye on both directions of the alley, she was certain he could protect himself. But she couldn't say the same for herself (with running and escape being her main surival tactic) and began cursing mentally for having let her feet numb even more. Stamping them in the ground, her voice sounded humorous "I have all day, and even all night to talk but if you want to keep talking to me, I really suggest we get a move on before trouble comes.." stamping again, feeling them come to life "it always does" she wiggled her toes, then she gestured to the alley "it may be deserted now but you never know.." Her voice trailed, she wanted to know more about the world and he seemed to know alot "could I know more about whats out there? The talking monkeys??"

[Wrenmae]

Snow began to fall, a gentle respite to the conversation unfolding in the alley below. Within moments a sheen of cascading white covered the dirty cobblestones, as if the frozen tears of a celestial body could wash the blood from the alley and purge violence from Sunberth. Perhaps Zulrav was ashamed, turning his clouds of snow and ice to cover what he felt was an embarrassment...although more than likely it was a simple coincidence of weather.

Cold began to seep past his skin and he held his arms around himself, warding off the worst of the frost as it fell around him. The thief had been listening in rapt attention for the entire story...something of a feat, especially when he wasn't trying all that hard to capture her interest. Of course, he knew a thing or two about being a guttersnipe like this...any attention was like ambrosia. Anyone who had deigned to tell a story for his benefit back in Alvadas would have enjoyed his rapt attention as well.

Glancing behind him, he thought he spied movement behind the larger of discarded crates and barrels, the sort of subtle movement that was all too characteristic of purposeful hiding. She was right, this place was dangerous. Putting a hand on her shoulder he steered her away from the wall and down the alley toward the end, mind already setting on the destination of the room he'd rented. "It's too cold to leave you out here like this, I'll let you stay with me till you have a better place to go...but understand that if anything goes missing..."

He let the words falter out, imagination a far more effective tool than paltry threats. He couldn't bring himself to hurt her, not after what he'd almost done...those thoughts in his brain.

Shroud.

The name itself evoked a disturbing image of some dark clad assassin, smoking Vayt's cigar and chuckling over the body of an innocent. Although, technically, it wasn't the thought of what Shroud would look like more than it was the knowledge that Shroud was a part of him, some irreconcilable part of his nature pushed deep into his psyche...only given form now.

The dream with Ulric.

The others.

These fragments of self were the unresolved natures warring within the young storyteller, constantly bickering, vying for control. He could not control them any longer, losing his semblance of self to Hypnotism which claimed the tenuous balance within him all along.

Like ghosts they forced his movement, his mouth to speak, him to be.

And he could not stop them, nor had any idea how to begin.

"Jamoura, I think," he said, trying to remember with any clarity his younger years, "I just remember seeing them, not what they were like...but there are stranger things in the world as well. Spider folk called Symenestra who live in a cave or the shape changing Dhani who can take on the form of massive snakes." He shook his head, remembering. "The Svefra ride the seas and are Laviku's children and the Zith are the bat-winged monsters we sometimes see flying above the skyline...so many different things in Mizahar, and yet I know only scarce more than you."

He frowned, the truth of that ringing clear. He didn't know much, not much at all.

"Where were you born, and why Sunberth of all places?"