A warm drink [Aello, Cassandra]

[Scezha]

90th of Winter, 510 AV

This city is really amazing. Ignoring the fact that he had been lost in his first day stepping into the city, and a few water splash from the gondola that doesn't seem to comfortable on him, Scezha could actually like this town. There seems to be something new everyday. Not just the people around and the oarman controlling the gondola, but also the vibrance and the ambiance of the city. This city feels so good and relaxing.

Ravok is so different from every other city Scezha has been to. Maybe it's because of the river that splits the city in a labirin-like canal that gave the oddly cold winter breeze. Indeed, the breeze in this city is nowhere near any other breeze that hits Scezha's skin. It's nothing like the desert breeze, or the sea, or the beach, it was unique. A new kind of wind. And Scezha always like something new.

Not to mention the streets and alleyways of Ravok carved by its canal system. If Scezha was younger, a lot younger, he would spent most of his daytime running and hiding in its nook and cranny. Looking for every new stuffs hidden under its shades and shadow. At his age now though, and given the experience and training by his master, Scezha would probably scour the place looking for ghost to help or communicate with. Surely, with a city this big, there couldn't be no ghost around here.

If there's one place Scezha hasn't stepped upon, it would be that big temple in the middle of the city. Scezha couldn't tell which God they worship, though it clearly not Yahal. There are no carvings tributed to Him. And he doesn't feel too comfortable walking into temple that's not of Yahal. Maybe in another place he'll find a temple of his deity.

Still, Scezha hasn't forget his reason for entering the city. It was to look for his master, and though he hasn't feel or seen something out of the ordinary, something that could have been his master's doing, Scezha hasn't lost his mind on his goal. He would not left this city without, at least, a possible lead on his master's whereabouts.

"Now," Scezha thinks as he grip his chin with two fingers. "where should I look first." He walks aimlessly without thinking. Occasionally bumping into people on the streets. "I can't possibly ask a ghost around here, can I?"

[Aello]

Aello was walking through the streets of Ravok, happy to finally have made it out of the forest. It was only her first day back, but already, her mind was only filled with one thing: getting herself a new set of clothes. She desperately needed them, her already-shredded attire only having grown worse in the time it took her to return to the city. Her corset was still ripped just below her breasts, exposing the slashes the wolf had made in her flesh, thin pieces of green cotton fabric hung loosely from the garment. The black ribbon lacing was frayed in several places, and looked as though it were about to be carried away by the whistling wind.

Aello's hair was loose, and tangled. The occasional crunchy brown leaf dangled from the tips, as the sweat of her brow caused it to stick to her face, while the rest whipped around her head in the wind. She looked wild; dangerous. Her skirt was still frayed, several slits ran up and down the sides and the front. Although, they still managed to conceal her dagger. The fabric was frayed, and several sections only appeared to be hanging on loosely; by a thread. Several splotches of dried, now dark brown, and slightly crusty patches of blood covered her clothing. Needless to say, she looked awful, and turned a lot of heads, but not in a good way.

As she walked through the crowded streets, Aello didn't bother to pay attention to those around her, being too busy trying to find a shop where she could buy some clothes. Then, suddenly, she bumped into someone. A man, taller than she, wearing a turban. She could feel her bow swinging; making impact with someone, what she assumed to be the man's leg. "Oh, I'm so sorry, I didn't see you there," she cried, her eyes filled with sorrow and concern, as she backed up a bit to get a better look at the man; trying to see how much damage she may have done. "Are you alright? I didn't hurt you did I?" Aello inquired, running her free hand through her matted hair; which she should probably start referring to as a bird's nest. Her face was already turning red; it was only her first day back, and already, she was making a fool of herself.

OOCPlease pardon my appearance. =)

[Cassandra Coven]

He was just a beggar. Old, probably with no friends, and no means to support himself. He sat in a dark corner in a lonely alley. Cassandra thought him to be just a pile of rags until she staggered past him and he reached out to grab her skirt. He asked for alms, his voice barely above a whisper so weak was he from hunger. Wondered if she had a little bit of change on her she could spare him. Just to buy food to put in his grumbling tummy, he said. He needed something from her, and in her softest of hearts Cassandra would have easily given him what he wanted. But she needed something too. Cassandra had been ill the past week, so ill in fact that she was bedridden the last few days, too weak to even do her job as a barmaid. Papa allowed her a few days off to recuperate but it did not help. Cassandra knew. She needed contact with people, to help stave off the curse running through her veins. She needed to carry on with her pretentious acts of accidentally stepping on someone's toes or spilling hot gravy on someone's hands - the little things that kept her free from pain. She knew her life depended on it. But being stuck in bed for two days did not help her one bit. The headaches started on the first day - like someone pricking her brain with sharp needles and putting salt on the puncture wounds. Every stab of pain she felt would explode in her head that it was all she could do to stop herself from screaming. And then the heartburn came and she could not keep anything inside her stomach for long. Cassandra thought it was the worst she could endure. She was wrong. Sick and dehydrated, she woke up the next day to the most excruciating sensations traveling up and down her arms and legs. It felt like someone was hammering iron spikes on her limbs at intervals, shattering bone. And yet there was no mark on her body, no sign to show for the agony she was experiencing. She was left curled up in a fetal position for the rest of the day, enduring the torture wracking her body, all the while praying for Priskil for reprieve. The pain was gone this morning and Cassandra thought her prayers were answered. She almost rejoiced but her comfort was short-lived. In moments, pain shot through her hands. She struggled to get one glove off, to find the red veins at the back of her hand glowing - a dire warning. The skin around her arms slowly began to crack, blood seeping out from them. The sensation was akin to having the wounded limb submerged into acid. It was agonizing, maddening. Cassandra instinctively knew then that she would not survive what would come at the dawn of the next day. She needed to find a way to relieve her pain - in any way she knew how. Casandra slipped out of the backdoor of the Silver Sliver then, and staggered blindly through the empty alleys until she found the old man. "I...I want to help you," she whispered to the beggar. "So we...so we don't have to suffer any more." She opened her purse and dropped a golden miza into the beggar's cupped hands. She saw his eyes widen as he followed it down on his dirty palms; it was probably the most money he's seen for a long, long while. The sight of his expression broke Cassandra's heart and she almost decided to find someone else to bear the brunt of her next action. Almost. The beggar heard her sob and as soon as he looked up back at her, Cassandra grabbed his dirty, salt and pepper hair with a gloved hand and slammed the back of his head against the alley wall. The beggar gazed up at her in pain and confusion, but Cassandra was not done yet. "I'm so sorry," she whispered, tears streaming down her eyes. Her thin stiletto dagger easily entered the old man's neck, like a butcher's knife through a piece of meat. The stab expertly angled in a way that the sudden explosion of blood did not stain the hand that held the weapon. She eased him down to his side but he only continued to stare at her, not even trying to voice any accusation against her. Not that he could, with his ruined throat, but it only multiplied Cassandra's guilt. She knelt beside him, rocking and sobbing quietly until the light of life in his eyes faded. In her grief, she did not even notice that all the pain she was feeling had evaporated as soon as the man died. The wounds in her arms had closed and even her fever seemed to have subsided. "I'm so sorry," she said again as she reached down to close the beggar's eyes, the final time for him. After uttering a prayer for Dira to guide the man's soul, it was only then that Cassandra thought to look around her to see if anyone had witnessed her actions. The alley remained empty save for her and the body however. It always was. She was safe, her crime unknown to anyone save herself, but she found that she could not leave the old man alone, uncared for and unburied. Her guilt getting the better of her, Cassandra decided that she would not leave him to be just another dead body in the street. Even if she was the one who took his life away. Or maybe it was because of that. Either way, she stood up and, after a cursory inspection to make sure that none of the man's blood got on her clothes, ran off to get help. She exploded out of the side street and into the main avenue in tears, feigned this time, bumping into the two nearest persons. It was a man in strange robes and a woman who appeared to have just gotten back from the wilds. Somehow the woman seemed familiar though Cassandra could not immediately identify her, so into her acting was she. "Please, help!" she cried at them as soon as she regained her footing. Tears streamed down her eyes as she turned from one to the other, her expression pleading. It was easy to cry at least, for her sorrow for the old man's death was genuine. "There...there's been a murder! In the alley! Come look! Please!" Cassandra pointed at the alley where she came from, her gloved hands trembling. "Oh, it's awful! Please, help me take a look? I-I'm afraid... I don't know who would do this!" she sobbed. "He's just a beggar..." OOCIf you guys didn't know, Cassandra is marked with Vexation. And sorry for going off-tangent, but since we're not in the tavern... I thought I'd make things interesting.

[Scezha]

"Oh, I'm so sorry. I didn't see you there."

A girl's voice suddenly seep through Scezha's ears. Is she talking to him? This street was filled with quite so many people, it could be that he just overheard someone. And he knows eavesdropping isn't really what Yahal wishes his followers to do. Accidentally or not. So, at first, Scezha tries to ignore the voice. But the same voice, from the same girl, rings in his ears once again, forcing Scezha to actually pay attention.

"Are you alright? I didn't hurt you did I?"

This time, he couldn't be mistaken. The girl really is talking to him. And as a man, it would be rude for Scezha to keep ignoring her. So he make a quick turn to the voice, and what he saw startled him. In front of him was a girl that looks like she was spending the entire winter in the forest! Her hair was unattended, filled with dead leaves and small branches. Her clothes, if it could still be called that, is torn in every possible places. Leaving only a few strands of thread hanging in some places. Her midsection was wide open, showing scratches from whatever beast that did this to her. In short, her apperance was terrible. And in no way a lady should dress.

"I'm not hurt, but it seems that you are." Scezha replies, as politely as he could. "I am sorry to ask, but did you just come from the forest? It's kinda dangerous to left your wounds unattended like that." Scezha tries not to mention her clothing or how she look as he make a single step towards the girl. She is a stranger, and nothing would probably change no matter whether Scezha decides to help her or not. But as a desert nomad, he couldn't possibly leave a girl that needs his help just like that. Scezha took out his outer robe and was about to gave it to the girl to at least cover her body, when another girl suddenly come running towards him.

"Please help!" She cries. "There.. there's been a murder! In the alley! Come look! Please!"

A murder?! His days before in the city has been a quite and calm one. There have been a few squarrels and commotions, sure, but Scezha has never heard of anyone being murdered in this city before. He wants to help the girl, but this obviously takes priority. He didn't say a word as he runs into the alley the girl pointed, and it did not take long for him to realize an old man laying in its shadow, drenched in his own blood.

"In Yahal's name." Scezha couldn't believe what he saw. This man was killed in cold blood. The blood on the back of his head, and the splatter mark on the wall, indicates that his head was smacked into the wall before whoever did this slits his throat deep. The old man was thin, weak, and obviously not someone who could fight his assailant back. Who, in this world, could do something like that.

His body was still warm, and the blood still wet. Suggesting that the deed was done not so long ago. The assailant could still be nearby. Alerting the guards would be Scezha's first order of business. Suddenly, from the corner of his eyes, Scezha could see something glittering inside the old man's palm. Scezha carefully put his hand inside and raise a gold miza from the poor man's hand.

"Whoever did this." Scezha says. "Did not do it for the money."

[OOC: I've read your gnosis mark, and it was pretty cool for a God-given-power. Though it would really suck to be the one to receive it.]

[Aello]

"You could say that," Aello replied, before the man disappeared down one of Ravok's darker alleys, which merely left her in the middle of the street, with her left hand raised. She had reached it out towards the man with the turban before, trying to rest it on his shoulder; to calm and reassure him, make sure he was not hurt. But he had run away too quickly for her to reach him. So now, she stood awkwardly while people seemed to fly past her, occasionally bumping into her shoulders from time to time, as they hurried about their business, and never bothering to pay her much attention, or apologize when they ran into her. Sighing heavily as she looked down the alley where the man with the turban and the mysterious woman had disappeared, Aello finally made up her mind to follow them, or so she thought. Maybe she'd even get to meet another ghost; she seemed to attract the things. But then again, she didn't want to meet another ghost right now, she had been possessed by ghosts too many times of late to want to meet one. But then again the woman had said there had been a recent murder, and that was probably something Aello shouldn't ignore, even if the man was helping her. As Aello contemplated her various options, a rather tall man wearing a thick black cloak bumped into her. "Hey watch where you're going!" she called after him, having been pulled roughly out of her thoughts. "Then get out of the middle of the street!" he hollered. Aello's face scrunched, and her cheeks flushed. Sometimes, she really hated other people she thought, as her feet slowly made their way into the alley where Cassandra and Scheza were. Upon entering the alley, a strong metallic scent hit her nostrils long before she saw the source of it; an old man, bathed in blood. He looked like some sort of beggar, Aello thought, as she watched blood trickle down his cheeks and drip off his chin. It looked fairly fresh from where Aello was standing, considering it hadn't yet seemed to grow crusty or brown. Aello took a few steps forward so she could get a better look at the body, in the hope that she would find something new. Or perhaps the man's ghost, even if he was newly dead, she figured the ghost should be lurking around here somewhere, especially when he appeared to have died so violently. But she couldn't feel anything- the sudden burst of cold air that usually signified the presence of a ghost, the notion that she was being watched, but didn't know why, because no one seemed to be around. She couldn't smell anything on the air that seemed to have no source- ghosts tended to smell like something near and dear to them, like roses, or perhaps a certain perfume if they had been a maker of such things during the course of their life. Realizing that there wasn't much more to see- a splotch of blood behind the head, uneven skin, especially surrounding the man's nose, Aello reached her hand out to touch the dead man, and soon realized that he was still rather warm, which only supported her thought that his death had been rather recent. As she pulled her fingertips away from his body, she turned to face the other woman who stood in the alley. Long wavy, dark hair. Slender body. The woman seemed strangely familiar, but she couldn't quite remember where she had seen her before. "And you were the one who found him?" Aello asked. "He's newly dead, so perhaps you saw who did this, or perhaps, you have a few suspects?" she added before turning back to Scheza, who held something in his hand, "what's that in your hand?" she inquired, not having had been in the alley when he picked it up in the first place. "And why do you both appear to be trembling?" she asked, wondering if they were both cold, or afraid because they weren't used to this sort of thing. But then again, she could merely be imagining things... or projecting her own current state of being onto each of them.

[Cassandra Coven]

Cassandra followed the turbaned stranger into the dark alley with trepidation, keeping behind him as if afraid that something might jump out at her from the deep shadows. In truth she was beginning to doubt if the wounds she had inflicted had been enough to kill the beggar and was worried that there might still be some life in him that he would get up and point to her as his attacker before finally expiring. She was also regretting the fact that she had involved strangers into this - it was quite possible now that one of them might discover her to be the beggar's killer. It was an impulsive and foolish act on her part, brought about by grief and terror in the fact that she could be such a monster to so easily take the life of another. Better to have just left the old man to rot in the alley. Better to just stew in her guilt rather than waste away for years in prison. Or worse, be executed for murder. The realization that she had possibly made it so much easier to get herself arrested chilled her blood. So many conflicting thoughts and emotions were swirling in her mind that Cassandra did not notice that they had arrived on the spot where the beggar lay until she bumped into the foreigner. She apologized before peeking over the man's shoulders to look upon her gruesome handiwork. Yes, the beggar was certainly dead all right, he remained on his side and would appear to be merely sleeping had it not been for the pool of blood that collected around him. He looked paler now than when Cassandra had left him, his heart having pumped as much blood as it could out of the wound before it finally stilled. The jagged hole in his neck seemed merely covered in rust brown paint now. The second sight of the body, and the memory of evil deed she had done, nauseated Cassandra so much that she felt her gorge rise. Stumbling back to the far wall that framed the alley, she thankfully found a cracked pot discarded among the debris before she unloaded the contents of her stomach, what little there was of it at least. The sound of her retching filled the air, interrupted only by the words of the other woman when she finally arrived. Not having much to throw up other than water, Cassandra finally turned back to the strangers, wiping her mouth with the back of her gloved hand and rubbing her tearing eyes clear. "S-sorry," she began. "I'm not used to seeing..." Cassandra trailed off, feeling herself gag once more. Fortunately, she was able to bring it under control though she could do nothing about the redness that forced its way up her cheeks, a sign of her embarrassment. "I was...passing through here... a short cut to the apothecary, when...when I saw him there. There was no one...I did not see anyone else around," she continued in response to the woman's questions. Everything she said was true of course, and it surprised her just how easy it was for her to weave her tales. Lying by omission. So very easy. What have I become? Cassandra lamented to herself.

[Scezha]

While he was observing the body, Scezha could hear the voice of the two girls talking behind him. He couldn't really make up the conversation, but it was obvious that the girl who brought him here was trembling. He could hear it in her voice. No wonder, seeing such sight for a girl must be horrifying. Even Scezha doesn't feel too comfortable about it. He's familiar to the dead people, not dead bodies.

"Well, at any case," Scezha said while he raises. "we couldn't left the poor man lying here. We need to bury him somewhere. Meanwhile, you girls could inform the guards about this. I know little of the usual crime in this city, but I don't think the guards would be very happy knowing there's a murderer running about."

Scezha covers the old man with his outer robe, the one he was going to give Aello. He lift him up and was about to go to the cemetery when he realizes he never spot one. There are a lot of canals, gondolas, and various shops and buildings but none were intended for the dead. He then turn and ask the girls. "Does any of you know a cemetery around here? I haven't seen any since I got here."

[OOC: Sorry to post something this short. This is the only thing I can write with few time I had.]

[Aello]

Aello scrunched up her face and turned up her nose as Cassandra continued to vomit, and the scent of freshly-upchucked stomach fluids, and various masticated, formerly edible food items filled the air all throughout the alley. "Gross," Aello commented as she glared at Cassandra. What a wimp, she thought, as a cool breeze swept through the alley, carrying the scent of death and Cassandra's vomit away along with it for a mere moment before it calmed down again. But just before it left the alley, the wind seemed to nestle up behind Aello's ear and whisper in a strangely gruff, deeply masculine sounding voice, "look into her aura." The voice sent a shiver down Aello's spine, and she found that she couldn't help but look around the alley, wondering where it had come from. Obviously, the voice hadn't belonged to Cassandra, for she was female, and her voice sounded nothing like that. That, and the poor girl was still busy vomiting, and cleaning her mouth with the back of her hand. Scheza was busy inspecting the body, and his voice was a little higher than the one she had heard. So who had spoken to her? Aello wondered, knowing that there was no one else in the alley but the dead body, which only sent another shiver up her spine. For whatever reason, Aello chose to keep the voice to herself; and what it had told her. She feared that if she mentioned anything, the other two would think her crazy considering there was no one else around to speak to her, which only made her wonder all the more if she had heard anything at all, or if it were merely a figment of her over-active imagination. Finally deciding that it couldn't hurt to look, Aello stared at Cassandra. She began to breath deeply in through the nose and out through her mouth, doing her best to concentrate and bring the woman's aura to light. Within fifteen seconds, Cassandra's aura became visible to Aello. A dark blue mist with a dirty grey overlay swirled around Cassandra's body. It was as though someone had bottled up the essence of the night, and then uncorked it right above her head, allowing it to drip down the sides of her head and her body, and shroud her in a sinister-looking mist. It danced across the woman's slender frame, at times, blocking her eyes and entire portions of her face, making it impossible for Aello to discern her features. There was something very very wrong there, Aello thought, as she closed her eyes abruptly, and shook her head, breaking her concentration and causing Cassandra's aura to disappear in a puff of smoke. A few seconds later, Aello opened her eyes again, and began to process what she had just seen. Dark blue had to due with fearing the future and speaking the truth. The overlay that the aura displayed was associated with a certain level of guardedness. Aello's eyes became tiny slits, and she glared suspiciously at Cassandra for a few seconds. What did Cassandra know that she wasn't sharing? Aello wondered, as her concentration was drawn away by Scheza's questioning; things she deemed rather foolish, which she could only guess had to be due to his being rather new to the city and its rules. "Honestly, going to the strfye may not be the greatest idea," Aello began. "If you ask me, they're not likely to care about the death of someone the likes of him," she said, gesturing towards the mysterious dead man with her free hand, "but if they did care, they would most likely blame it on one of us for being the first people to arrive on the scene. Guilty until proven innocent seems to be the way of this city." "And as for a cemetery," Aello continued, "never seen one. Your best bet would more than likely be to carry his body out into the wilderness and bury him there. But that'd be quite a trip, and you'd have to go through a number of guards, at which rate, you'd be far better off leaving him there, hiding him in a crate or barrel, or simply throwing his corpse into the lake." Aello paused for a moment before adding, "not the most proper or humane thing to do, that I will admit, but I am not sure you have much choice," she finished, staring intently at the Scheza, awaiting his answer, as the corpse seemed to melt into his arms, as though it couldn't stand the amount of time that was passing as it waited for them to make a move. OOCI don't want to involve the ghost, at least not on my end. I think I will simply end it with this voice, which Aello will more than likely believe to be her growing level of paranoia, due to excessive magic use.... that and her general want to use it more and more every time she uses it... think that makes sense.

[Cassandra Coven]

Cassandra switched her gaze from the short, dirty woman to the turbaned foreigner and then back again as the two discussed their options. The dark-haired barmaid grew more and more distressed, especially after the other woman logically enumerated the dangers of reporting the murder. She was reminded yet again how different Ravok was from Syliras. The Knights would have at least given the old beggar a funeral pyre. Who knew if the Ebonstryfe would even bother for such? Then again, if the Knights caught the killer, which just happened to be her, they would execute her on the spot. The Black Sun, while still ruling the city like the Knights did Syliras, tolerated a little crime and chaos as long as it did not disrupt the day-to-day lives of its citizens. Perhaps the city isn't so bad in that regard, Cassandra thought guiltily. After the initial shock that resulted from her dark deed, the woman suddenly wanted to get as far away from the corpse as possible. It was undeniable that she still felt terrible from what she had done but after the hunter woman had explained things so bluntly, she realized she preferred to not have anything to do with the beggar any more, to avoid trouble with the authorities - a simple act of self-preservation. In fact, she's begun to unconsciously rationalize her previous actions, telling herself that it was better that the old man died now rather than endure a more painful death from starvation and exposure. She did the right thing, Cassandra insisted to herself, her argument being that at least now the old man would not suffer beatings from random thugs who might choose to take their fun out of him. It was horrbile what she did to him, yes, but her was in a better place now, free of any worldly pains. She had to believe that. "I-I guess we should just l-leave him there, then?" she asked the others, wanting for them to take charge of the situation but nudging them towards the action she preferred to take. "The Ebonstryfe might not believe us if we...if we tell them that we just found the body. I-I heard they t-t-torture people during during interrogations." She said the last part in a whisper, as if afraid that someone might overhear her say such things against the authorities. She waited for one of the others to decide what to do, absently scratching at the rash on her arm that suddenly began to itch. Cassandra began to inch her way towards an adjoining alley with the intention to flee even as she hoped that the man or the woman would decide for them all to do just that. "We-we look suspicious lingering about with a dead body. Maybe...maybe we should go..."

[Scezha]

The girl in messed up clothes gave a direct, and cold answer to Scezha's questions. And Scezha suddenly realizes where he was. He was in Ravok. Not in the harsh desert, or the calm harbour, he was in a very different city than the others he previously visited. And like what his master always said, each city has their own rules that could be very different from one another. And this Ebonstryfe seems to be standing in the darker side of the law.

"No cemetery, and no guards to trust us? I guess there's nothing we could do in order to give him a proper funeral." Scezha shook his head in disappointment. Though it seems impossible, a tiny portion of his heart demands a funeral for this old man. To treat him like a human, not a sewer rat who someone just accidentally killed. Scezha throws a pityful, sad gaze towards the dead body.

"I'm sorry, old man. At least your suffering in this world has gone." He then stares at the girls again. "Alright, maybe we shouldn't let the guards know, but I don't feel good leaving him to be eaten by pack rats. Why don't we just 'bury' him in the river? At least, that would make me feel much better."

The black haired girl seems eager to leave the alley. No wonder, considering what just happens here and what could happen if the so-called guards found them here. She express that so clearly, Scezha doesn't feel the need to argue. But he still stands by his opinion. He has to find a safe water canal to "bury" the body.

"I'm sorry, Miss?" He speaks to the dark hair woman. "Could you take a peek and make sure that the road is clear? I intend to throw him to the river. If that way is not safe, then I'll find another." Scezha doesn't think that he needs their opinion in this. Whatever they say, this one thing has to be done.