Closed [Sultros Blades] Punishing the Sinner

[Matthew]

20th of Summer, 513AV.

He had heard the sound of the hammer earlier on during the day, on his way to work. The idea hadn't hatched right then, but it had eventually creeped in. If he was actually going to go through with this, then he would need some sort of protection. The man was violent, and Matthew was the exact opposite of such. Who knew what would happen? He hopefully would never have to defend himself in such a way, but if it came to that, he wouldn't hesitate. After all, the man needed to be dealt with.

He hit me. I told him no, and he hit me.

Her words had burned in his mind, and they continued to burn. Throughout his work day, through out all of the dates and the romances, throughout the letters he had to write and the beds he had to lay in, he had thought about it. He was surprised he hadn't gotten any bad comments, with how distracted he had been. He was a horrible companion today, but he couldn't help it. Her words, they burned. He didn't consider himself a moral creature by any means, as signaled by the Yahal markings on the hips that thrusted nightly. But this was something that felt like molten fire, delicately written out on the surface of his mind. Yahal, it burned.

I still told him no, and I tried to call. For anyone. But he covered my mouth.

What was he going to do? Simply tell the man to stop it? To never come back? The girl wouldn't go to the Knights, she was afraid of losing her job. She wouldn't go to the owners of the Herald, for she was still afraid of losing her job. That is what she said, anyways. Matthew wasn't so sure if that was all there was to it. He thought about it as well, trying to break up the words that kept repeating through his head. The words she had spoken. How was he even supposed to punish this? He hadn't known. He wasn't the sort that took "justice" into his own hands, if you could call it that.

And he kept going.

Matthew had found a way. He had found the man again, and he had researched him. He was a regular at the Herald, so people there had known him. Even if they didn't know what he had did, they had known him. They had told Matthew about him, likely assuming he was just interested in the loyal customer.

That was why he was here in the late hours of the night, even though the sounds of the hammer had faded. He was here because he was interested in the loyal customer. Because he had found him, followed him, researched him, learned about him. He had a plan, but it was a plan that scared some small part of him. He was here because he needed a back-up plan, and he didn't want to purchase the back-up plan in public. It was just a knife, but still. It gave off a bad image, or at least in his mind. An escort shouldn't be seen purchasing a weapon. His fist lifted and lightly tapped upon the door, timidly announcing his presence. He stood there patiently, eyes bright and blue, staring upon the door. He was dressed well, with a open black jacket and white under-shirt showing off his toned frame, and a red tie hanging down the center. He was obviously beautiful, and held himself in a graceful, almost confident manner.

The dark look in his eyes either added to it, or took away. He wasn't even aware.

[Hadyn Skellig]

The shriek of fiery steel submerged in water permeated the forge, steam rising quickly from the dark surface only to dissipate without warning. The heat of the material was cooled immediately though the smith was careful to remove it from the water to avoid the inevitable brittleness acquired during quenching. A gloved hand held the nearly formed blade deftly, turning it to inspect the surface in the light of the nearby fire. One more temper treatment and it would be ready for sharpening.

Holding the double edged blade, the woman selected a iron rod from the burning forge, it's bright orange hue indicating it was at the right temperature to begin the process of local tempering. Holding the rod to the center of the blade, Hadyn watched intently as the heat surged from iron to steel, the tempering colors spreading cautiously. Gold to purple to blue transformed the spine of the blade, tawny tendrils slipping from the center to lick the edges of the blade. Eyes that'd seen this hundreds of times removed the iron from the shaft, careful not to allow the heat to permeate the edges of the sword. Dipping the steel back into the water, the woman felt a shiver race up her spine as the heat hissed angrily. The blade was now ready to be sharpened.

But the sound of knocking delayed the opportunity. Pulling the steel from the water, the woman set it down gently before sticking the iron rod back into the burning coals. Removing her gloves, Hadyn tossed the dark braid over her shoulder and wiped her sweat slicked forehead with the back of her hand. She couldn't imagine the bell, aware only of the chimes that seemed to sing her endlessly into the night. It was quite late, even by her standards. A perfectionist to the end, Hadyn was maintaining lengthy bells these days, absorbed in her art and the constant flow of commissions. But she enjoyed working at night, the solitude of the smithy giving her ample time to mull over thoughts and the sound of her labors as well as the fire were soothing. Her muscles, however, expressed their displeasure at even a moment's rest. And with the distraction of the knocking, the woman felt wholly exhausted.

Exiting the forge, she wiped soot stained hands on the leather apron, bemused interest piqued. It was rare to have a caller so late. Her dark boots made quiet thuds on the ground as she traversed the floor of the shop, the single candle nearly at its end on the counter. This visitor could either be a customer or an unwanted guest, though both seemed odd and undesired at this bell of night. Pausing before opening the door, the brunette wet her lips and prepared to be either curiously polite or effectively stern.

Pulling the heavy wooden door open slightly she was met by the partially shadowed face of a man who appeared wildly out of place for her doorstep. Even in the grim light he was exceptionally handsome, the planes of his face and neck bathed in cautious light. His attire suggested one of decent status and there was no smell of alcohol about his person. A customer, not a drunk. She stared a moment longer than she intended, the strangeness of his visit combined with those strikingly blue eyes caught the weaponsmith momentarily off guard. But she recovered quick enough, opening the door further and offering a gentle smile as she bid him welcome.

"Good evening," she began, her voice low as she stepped away from the threshold so he might enter. "I hope y'weren't waiting long. How can I help you tonight?"

Once he joined her in the shop she'd close the door and cross the floor to the counter, ready to write up an order. Despite the horrid ache in her muscles the brunette gave her guest another kind if not reserved smile. He may be a customer but she was wary of his appearance so late into the night. Brown eyes followed his movements with guarded civility.

[Matthew]

If he was surprised to see a woman answer the door, he didn't show it. Instead, he merely glanced her over, blue eyes scanning her in a quick and professional manner. Truth be told, he was surprised, but almost instantly scolded himself for it. She actually played the part of a blacksmith quite well, the soot and sweat seeming to be a natural look for her. The boots and apron fit as well, the whole appearance somehow fitting. His surprise quickly gave way to acceptance, and he smiled politely at her as she stared at him. She was pretty, which was an odd thought, seeing how he was at a blacksmith. He had always assumed they would be big burly men with beards. Here was a pretty girl, though when he had examined her, he had noticed that her muscles were bigger than his own. How shameful. She finally greeted him, and he offered another polite smile as he moved into the shop with her. He moved with an un-natural grace, his steps oddly practiced. They were confident and slow, flowing and smooth, giving out this sort of confident feel. It had been noticeable at the door, and was again noticeable as he moved.

"I wasn't waiting long at all. I apologize for coming so late at night. I hope I didn't interrupt anything." As he entered, the heat hit his face, and he momentarily paused. Perhaps he had come at a bad time. He glanced quickly around, noticing the burning coals and the remaining steam misting in the air. He already felt a few beads of sweat coming to his forehead, and he reached down to loosen his tie, also popping the first button of his shirt. "I am looking for a... knife." The last word held a bit of hesitation, and he paused, clearing his throat before trying to explain a bit more. "For self-defense."

No, that didn't sound quite right. He wanted to get a hand-crafted knife just for self-defense?

He took a breath, then tried again. Each of his words was carefully pronounced, a slight husk to the spoken sound. "A man recently abused a friend of mine. I want to go talk to him, to make sure that he doesn't come back, and to make sure he leaves her alone. I merely want to talk, but..." He paused, eyes conflicted. "...I am worried. He showed a violent streak with her, and depending on how this conversation goes, he could show a violent streak with me. I just need something small, something that I can defend myself with in the case of an emergency." He didn't speak like he was particularly against violence, just like he was completely clueless about how sharp objects worked. He stood there patiently, hands in the pockets of his coat, his blue eyes un-waveringly holding hers. He seemed so innocent, for a moment. Like a small child who was trying to stick up for his friend. Before she could reply, he opened his mouth again, quickly adding onto his request. "I plan on publicly humiliating him, see. There is a formal event he is going to, where he plays the part of the kind of loving man. He... he left marks on her face." It was as if he was seeking approval for what he was about to do, or perhaps just trying to justify requesting a weapon. He didn't want her to think of him as some sort of violent person. He really just wanted the blade in case anything went wrong. There was a lot of room for error in his plan. He still needed to find a few more components to make it work, including the blade.

[Hadyn Skellig]

Hadyn watched her guest quietly as he entered the shop, his demeanor somewhat uneasy. But there was a preternatural grace to his movement, a fluidity typically reserved for felines and those of a non-human persuasion. Perhaps he was a Kelvic. Whatever the case the weaponsmith couldn't help but experience asharp prick of envy as she observed his unsettling poise. But when he spoke the apprehension became apparent once more.

She listened intently, fingers selecting a quill pen and setting it to ink while she watched. A knife. A dark eyebrow rose slightly as he mustered further explanation. His diatribe wasn't exactly expected, most folks tromping in to order their weapons and be gone before too much small talk was necessary. But this man - he seemed intent on describing the circumstance under which he must purchase his weapon. Pausing before writing, Hadyn stared at him as he concluded his speech, a drop of ink slipping from the cut quill to stain the parchment.

"A knife," she began, tone measured to match his. "Should be no problem. But, forgive the intrusion, are you capable with a blade?" It wasn't an accusation and her timbre implied a gentle concern for the man's tale. "Hadn't you ought to go to t'Knights, is what I mean. This man should see justice for his misdeeds."

Hadyn rested her hand on the counter, brown eyes carefully examining the man. He was dressed in fine clothes suggesting he wasn't a street urchin. He sported the finery of a merchant but didn't conduct himself as such. And he lacked the intense arrogance of the upper crust Sylirians. He sure as petch wasn't a Knight. He was somewhere in the middle. If he was a lower class citizen he'd certainly know how to use a blade and have no qualms about purchasing one. He seemed almost timid. After a pause Hadyn offered him a kind smile.

"I'd certainly be happy to make your dagger or knife, Ser. It's just... a distressin' circumstance, you understand. If your man's violent y'might need a spot of trainin' with a blade. To protect y'self. And," she hesitated. It wasn't any of her business to interfere with a customer's intention to purchase a weapon. But she found the words already forming and issuing from her lips, expression softened. "How do y'plan on humiliatin' him?"

[Matthew]

It was ironic, because for a brief moment, their envy of the other was matched. While she may be a tad jealous of his grace and poise, he was equally jealous of her ability to smith. He was completely useless at working with his hands. Well, that was a lie. He was useless at working with his hands when it came to inanimate objects. Creating. He had gone to school and then dropped from school to pursue his current unique trade. He had never learned any sort of task that involved crafting. He couldn't build his own house, fashion his own tools, or craft his own weapons. It was a very admirable skill to have.

Her tone spoke out, and he blinked, snapping out of his thoughts. His eyes held hers the whole time, oddly calm in their gaze. He was one of those sort who always held the gaze of the one who was speaking to him, showing himself to be quite the listener. She asked the question he had been partially dreading, and bit his lip a bit, speaking quietly.

"No. I am not. I have only touched the knife at the dinner table, and I have cut myself with it multiple times." It sounded like a joke, but his calm stare certainly didn't betray any sort of humor. "As for the Knights... yes, he should. But honestly, what can she do? She is a prostitute, miss. A worker at the Herald's Arms. He is of the noble type, and is not publicly known to take pleasure in the flesh. Her word against his, and who do you think the Knights would listen to? Not that I could blame them. It is only logical, after all." He paused a moment, chewing his lip in thought again, eyes still studying her own. His gaze never grew vacant or distant, nor had it glanced away yet. If anything, the stare seemed to become deeper, even when she broke it to examine him. "There are some crimes that are committed against the heart. Those cannot be punished by convential means, not normally. The physical damage he caused her, that will heal. The bruises will fade. The other marks though, the ones you can't see? Those will never go away." He still spoke quietly, carefully, with polite words. "That doesn't mean he goes free though."

He let her comment about training go for the moment, instead focusing on her next question. "He is attending a noble event. Something of a clever little charade where these loving couples gamble the night away. He has latched on to a lonely wealthy widow, and no doubt plans to use her money to increase his. I will meet him at these games, dance and drink, and then I will win the night." Matthew leaned forward, unwittingly surrounding her in his aura of Hypnotic influence. He didn't use the magic on her, but the suggestions in the air would perhaps be felt, surrounding her so throughly that she would almost be able to taste them. The danger in the air, the thrill, the electricity that his anger sparked. The look of fire in his eyes, with the slightest bit of playfulness behind them. When he spoke, his words danced with all of these emotions, singing their song into her ears. For a second, there was this moment, when she would be able to sense what this meant to him. What he planned to do. His complete and utter confidence that he could do it. The whole sensation was almost erotic, even though he plainly wasn't trying to be. "I plan on taking everything from him, Miss."

The man stepped back, the distance between them causing the moment to collapse, cool air rushing in like a fresh breath of life. "But in case I fail, then yes, training might be a good idea. I could read a book on it." Again, it sounded like a joke, but he still looked pretty petching serious.

[Hadyn Skellig]

The weaponsmith stared at him, the quick scribble on the parchment all but forgotten. It was a noble cause, one she could certainly identify with. But it seemed equally foolish and rash considering the man's lack of skill with a weapon. It wouldn't be the least bit surprising to learn that his opponent had some talent with blades. Most petchers like him did. With a pursing of her lips Hadyn tilted her head to the side to consider his words before responding.

"Fair enough," she conceded after a moment, setting the quill down. "Seems risky, I must say. Tell me, are y'from Syliras?"

It was a rather straightforward question, not the type she'd typically ask of a customer. But the situation was so anomalous she couldn't help herself. His passion to off the man was absolutely burning, such that she nearly felt his very desire in her own blood. And Hadyn was nothing if not sympathetic in the case of doing what is right, Knights or no. Her personal morality didn't always coincide with the due process of Syliras' protectors and this was one of those rare times she could honestly agree with forgoing the Knights' assistance. And she wished to help the man.

"Not to pry," she added quickly with a light smile. "Just... wonderin' if I might be able to assist you."

[Matthew]

Her first question caught him off guard, and in the back of his mind, he slowly started to form some air of caution. Maybe he had admitted too much? After all, this was a completely random stranger. She could potentially get him in trouble, if she wanted. But then again, it would probably the same type of case he had mentioned before. Who would believe that a random stranger had came into her smithing shop with crazy plans like his? He chewed his lower lip in thought as he stared at her, brow furrowing a bit, his fingertips clenching and un-clenching within his coat pockets. After a moment of deliberation, he answered honestly. "I am not. I am from Zeltiva. I was born and raised there, and only recently moved here to pursue the advancement of a self-owned business."

The second question really caught him off guard, his blue eyes widening just a tad. It was the first sign of genuine surprise the man had shown, and it was simply because he couldn't help it. She was offering assistance? How was he supposed to feel about that? He peered at her, once again searching her eyes, trying to find something inside of him. This puzzled him. He had never really considered the assistance of others, simply because he hadn't thought they were offer it. If the situation were turned, would he offer his help so openly? He wasn't sure. He wasn't exactly the most "straight and narrow" when it came to morals.

Chewing his lip again (a bad habit of his and he knew it), he took a breath. He could give it a shot, at least. It wasn't like she didn't know his whole plan already, or at least the gist of it. What was there left to hide?

A playful smile briefly tugged at the corners of his lips. He still had a few surprises.

"Tobias Mordani. Are you familiar with him? I am not so sure if he is actually well-known among the social circles here, or if he just manages to latch on to women who are. It seems to be a... trait of his. At least from what I have heard." He tilted his head, eyes glancing to the side finally, his gaze broken from hers. "If you really wanted to help, I am sure we could fit you into the scheme. Since it is a couple's event, I was planning on finding a friend to join me..." He glanced back at her, up and down what he could see from behind the counter, blue eyes analytical. "...but I think you would actually work... better. Can you pretty up without the use of make-up? No make-up and no jewelry. That is vital." She would probably deduce that it was a formal event, but his last request was a tad odd. He had a purpose for it. He wanted her to look good, but he wanted her to naturally look good. All part of the plan.

[Hadyn Skellig]

Hadyn smiled as he explained his origins, nodding in acknowledgement. Resting her palms on the surface of the counter, she pressed weight against them, arms straight as her guest displayed a habit of nerves. Her posture and relaxed countenance was meant to put him at ease, the pains he'd gone through to see his plan come to fruition not lost upon the weaponsmith. She wasn't sure how he'd taken her invitation to help but he seemed to be mulling it over. Truthfully Hadyn wasn't much help as far as defense was concerned. While making weapons was her passion, using them was decidedly not. She returned his smile as his words issued forth.

Tobias Mordani. The color drained from her face like water off stone in the sun. Her lips were parted ready to smile again but they froze. Her entire body was paralyzed by the very recognition of the name, though her brain took a few ticks to catch up. Lips closed and mouth closed she could feel the instictual burn in her blood as she stared at the man. The muscle in her jaw clenched and her teeth gritted uncomfortably against each other. But it took only the span of a chime or two for her relaxed her countenance. He was still speaking, after all.

"Forgive me," she answered softly - distractedly - after silence pervaded the space, blinking in attempt to recall what he'd said. "Yes. I am familiar with him. Very... I'll go."

It was a resolute statement and she hadn't meant it to sound so stern. With a glance to the parchment before her the woman composed herself and offered a stiff smile.

"Don't own any make-up anyhow."

[Matthew]

He noticed the color drain from her face, and had to fight to keep an eyebrow from instinctively raising. She apparently knew who the man was. Noting the clench of the jaw and the tightning of her lips, he mulled over what this might mean for his plan. Did she now have some sudden stake in this? Was he well-known in more circles than he thought Tobias was? Or was there something else here? He considered asking, but thought better of it, deciding it was her business and hers alone. If it didn't come between him and the plan, he was okay with whatever it might mean. If anything, she now seemed very resolute on what to do.

A gentle smile was offered in return for hers. "You don't have make-up? That isn't a smattering of it on your cheeks?" He was of course referring to the soot and smoke stains, his first real joke of the afternoon.

Taking on a serious look again, he tried to relax, taking on the same sly posture as before. "If you are resolute on joining me, I suppose I should warn about a few things. The games they play aren't supposed to be normal. Sometimes there are more things put at risk then just money. I don't know how dark or dangerous it could get, or how romantic and sensual it is supposed to be. If you plan on coming, be ready for anything. I am not a fighter, and am depending on my wits to get me through this. Hopefully our wits will be a good compliment to the other. I doubt it will get too out of hand, though. The Knights are ever so watchful." He glanced her up and down again, considering her once more, eyes examining every little thing. He considered how much he could trust her. How much she should know.

He was planning on gambling a lot of things when that night came. Why not go ahead and start now?

"I am Matthew Wayne. I am the sole son of a wealthy shipwrighting family in Zeltiva. I have recieved education and training in both a little bit of magic and medicine at the Zeltiva University. However, I dropped these studies and left my family to pursue the life of a harlot here in Syliras." A smile played at the corner of his lips again. Speaking the story out loud made him realize how outlandish it was. "I am currently working at the Harold's Arms, as a pleasure giver. I also am looking to own a Escort business in the future. Here is my card." His hand flipped out of his coat pocket, and he slipped a little rectangle piece of paper in front of her. Yahal, he had a card?

Matthew Wayne

Human | 25 | Male

Professional Escort Services

Skill set:
-Intimacy
-Seduction
-Cuddling
-Romance
-Teasing
-Playfulness
-Dates
-Companionship
-Lovemaking
-Questionable Things

Yahal, he had a card. The writing was quite neat, as if he had spent a good amount of time on it. He didn't seem at all perturbed by this. Or like anything was out of the normal. He just seemed amused, his eyes sparkling with horribly naughty things. "Of course, they don't need to know any of this. My family couldn't make it to their first party, but they didn't want to disrespect. So, they sent their beloved son. I am sure the party-goers will love the fresh meat. How is this all sounding to you? Still with me? This whole party strikes me as being somewhat outside of what the Knights consider to be right, so there is always that danger." He stood there, the hesitation suddenly gone from him. For a moment, the Escort in him was obvious. He stood in that poised feral stance, eyes dancing, a playful smile on the corners of his lips.

[Hadyn Skellig]

The woman managed to compose herself after a chime, the man continuing with his plan as she stared blankly. Swallowing the initial shock and resulting ire coursing through her blood Hadyn nodded dumbly as he spoke. A half-assed smile touched her lips at his jesting, the soot on her cheekbone all but forgotten and his teasing barely acknowledged. She reproached herself for the behavior she displayed but it'd been so long since that named was uttered in her presence and longer still she'd kept calm about it. Hardly prone to fits of rage the very thought of Tobias left a usually placid Hadyn shaking in her boots, fire churning in dark eyes laden with memory.

For her part she was handling it well. She could pretty much follow the man's words without asking him to repeat himself. She nodded a few times when it was necessary to display understanding. When he launched into his story the brunette folded her hands on the counter top and listened attentively. Hadyn honestly couldn't tell if this was a rouse or his true identity. She didn't care. After a moment of staring dumbly at him she realized he'd procured something for her to observe. Receiving the card with an embarrassed nod, she read over the text carefully.

The man was a prostitute. Or he was pretending to be one. Gods, what'd she gotten herself into? The initial rashness of agreeing to this farce was entirely built on the thought of ruining Tobias. He was still speaking. After perusing the card a second time the brunette returned her gaze to Matthew. Or was it Michael. A quick glance to the card affirmed her original guess. Matthew.

He was really going out on a limb. He didn't know her, nor she him. And yet they shared a mutual loathing for one Tobias Mordani, which clearly trumped all aspect of social awkwardness. Returning the calling card to him, Hadyn nodded once more like a halfwit as he inquired after her comprehension.

"Yes," she answered stupidly. "I'm still with you. But..." for the first time, she dropped her eyes from him to glance at the counter. "Why do you need me? that is, I'm no great looker or familiar with these parties."

Petch, had he already explained this to her? His words repeated in her mind as she tried to quickly save face in case he had told her earlier. Brushing the same strand of hair behind her ear that'd escaped previously, the woman frowned. She did not like the idea of a stranger seeing her so unwound. So vulnerable. A firm line set her lips as quiet determination replaced unease in her gaze. She'd promised herself to this venture and she'd see it through. It was simply too irresistible to forgo.