Shroud drew blood from the back of the Svefra's neck, leaning in close to whisper in his ear. "The next sound I hear from you better be that weapon clattering to the ground," His voice was sweet, quiet, smooth...it was promising, not threatening. "And we're going to step out of public eye for a moment, so unless you want a blade where your spine used to be, I suggest you walk." He pushed Arcan deeper into the alley, the gloom swallowing both of them up, consuming them.
When he was content they were out of sight, Shroud reached forward with his mind, curdling the desperation in the thief, pulling at it, tugging and layering. He offered him a short flash, a vision of the Svefra girl weak and shaking, her sword held in front of her as a wavering ship prow, unsure, unskilled, untrained. It seemed to spur the man onward, who drew his blade and approached the Svefra woman step by careful step.
Shroud smiled, content with this development, sawing gently at the back of Arcan's neck, a reminder of where he stood, what he stood to lose. "Don't cry for her, hero," Shroud sighed, laying a languid hand on his shoulder, "Be content that her first lesson is against such an untrained opponent, more a viper than tiger. He can strike fast, but his claws are weak...if she overcomes him, she may just earn the right to be in Sunberth."
He pressed the dagger up against his neck again, slipping a finger underneath the wound, wetting it with his crimson blood, and licking it off the top of his finger, spitting at the taste. "You, however, failed your first trial..." Shroud drawled, "Heroes die in sunberth, they're an endangered breed, a rare sight, a fatal attraction...well, you understand." He chuckled, the feeling of holding another mans life in his hands intoxicating, rushing.
"Don't fret, I'm not going to kill you...just give you a front row seat to enjoy the show, nothing more, nothing less." |
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