Closed Such a Treacherous Slattern

[Matthew]

40th of Spring, 414 AV. Matthew sat in the foyer of Brega's house, one leg crossed over the other as he lounged. He was as dressed as always, formal casual clothes clinging to a body that had practically been sculpted from everything good. Matthew was learning more and more about what was physically appealing and what wasn't, and as time went on, his appearance continued to slowly transform. Blue eyes watched the entrance of the door, awaiting his next client. He knew who it was going to be. The two of them had taken to meeting under the guise of client and prostitute, and sometimes her boyfriend came along with her. That was what most people labeled him as, at least. Matthew wasn't exactly sure what to label them as. Whispers had been running through the streets. Recently, Matthew had noticed that some of them were about Fallon. It was a long shot to make, but some of the more watchful eyes in the city had an interest in her. They wondered if she was part of the recent uprising, in some way or another. People in Sunberth were suspicious. They had eyes and ears everywhere, and those eyes were starting to get desperate. This Hound was forcing them to be desperate. Desperate times called for desperate measures. The harlot was slowly learning to listen. He just did his best to tune in to the conversation around him, to involve himself in the ebb and flow of the city without actually becoming a part of it. He wanted to taste what pulsed through the veins, but not actually flow through it himself. It was a hard thing to balance. The further and further he dipped into the disgusting things that Sunberth consisted of, the easier and easier it all became. It was already easy for him, but soon it would be like second nature. He needed to remember social tact. He needed to remember what normal people did. There was good and there was evil, and even if he didn't understand the difference sometimes, he still needed to firmly align himself. It was best to be a good man on the outside, or at least as much as possible. Or so he thought. Would a good man do what he was about to do? He bit his lip, leaning his head back, staring at the ceiling. Fallon would be here soon. He didn't need to start wondering about it now. He had a job to do, a plot to play out, a move to make. Wrenmae would no doubt approve. Or so he thought. Was Wrenmae a good man, though? Matthew sighed, the thoughts all so very confusing. His head felt numb to it all. It was all logic to him. A plan to murder Fallon. It was just logical. Hopefully she would understand.

[Fallon]

Little did Fallon know about the plan to murder her.

When Matthew said he ‘wanted’ Fallon, the mercenary suspected the worst. Or at least until the correct thought that it was possibly information related, not business, came to mind. In one respect it was reassuring, in another it was that nervous energy that she had not misunderstood his intentions. So whilst Fallon trudged herself through the streets, silently gnawing upon her mind as to what exactly he had found out this time. Or better yet what he was planning.

Fingers scratched at the tunic, then at the shirt collar. She did not wear her armour this time, but as always the kukri was kept on her. Her guard, shield and weapon against the world. Eyes flickered to and fro, her mind spurring itself on recording and memorising. What was it he wanted to talk about? Things? The scars, the gangs, the movements of people, those of importance, those not so. It did not matter, it was vital to know as much as possible. That way she could be safe, and so could the rest of her people. It was vital to stay one step ahead after all. Or at least as much as possible.

She had to learn to listen, to be one with the drumming beat of the city. To exist among the filth and scourge that controlled it. But soon change would come. Even she could hear the roar of revolution in every step, for every tick did they stepped closer, for every chime they seeped further and deeper, for every bell their grasp tightened. Fallon sucked in the stench, a curl upon her lips, her eyes blazing bright with anticipation. Everything was beginning to tremble and come together. If that was not something to get excited about, then Fallon did not know what was.

With a quick step she ducked into brothel, her eyes turning through the haze of flesh and then landing promptly on Matthew. For a moment she paused, waiting for that trade mark ‘look’ that had the habit of making her skin crawl, and then quickly made her way over to him.

”Hello you,” She did not know exactly how to address him. To call him by his name suggested some form of relationship, a close bond and familiarity. But he was just a harlot, a man who would pleasure her – least that was the common belief. Something she would rather keep that way. It helped in pulling the veil over the truth. Standing before him she held her hand out in gesture, and then inclined her head away, ”Shall we? Or are you going to continue to stare for a while…?”

Keep it cool. Keep it calm. No rush. And use your head.

[Matthew]

He was slightly annoyed and this was one of those rare times that it showed on his face. There was more security in the House than normal, and he couldn't figure out if they were here to watch him or here for other reasons. There were two of the common Sunberthian brute standing just a few paces away, arms crossed and sullen looks aimed at Matthew. He avoided eye contact, staring at a fixed point on a nearby wall. He kept himself aware of the two, but didn't pay them much attention other than that. Being aware was the only thing he could do, really. He might have just rubbed them the wrong way at some point this morning and wasn't quite aware of it yet. That happened often. Luckily, Fallon soon appeared, saving him from eventually having to over-analyze the situation. His blue eyes turned towards her as Matthew unfolded himself from the seat, but Fallon would perhaps immediately notice that there was something different about his stare. He didn't have that playful flirtatious look that he shot her when they put on their little act. His eyes burned with need now. Basic heated primal need. He was eager to devour her, and he would devour her in a multitude of horribly filthy ways. He stepped toward her, obviously in his prime. He walked like a man who had power, gait filled with confidence. Some men weaved magic, or mastered the sword. Matthew reigned over sex. And his eyes said that he would soon make Fallon a part of that kingdom. "Hello. Yes, we shall. No matter who is watching." How bold. An obvious stare was shot at the two looming men, and then Matthew turned his back toward them, putting himself between Fallon and them. But he was still approaching her, heat lancing from his flesh to tease ather. If she backed up, he would still be following. For a moment though, for a single split second of a moment, his lips parted and revealed the dull gleam of what looked to be a black key. That was about all the warning Fallon would get before his soft hand took the hand she had extended to gesture with, lightly tugging her in as he stepped forward. Pristinely defined muscle moved in to melt with her tunic, and if she hadn't stabbed him or completely collapsed, his lips would suddenly be upon hers. They were gentle, tasted of some sort of herb, and they obviously knew what they were doing. She wouldn't have to do much work at all before his tongue somehow parted her lips for her, mouth moving to position itself comfortably upon hers. The cold steel of the key would cross her lips, lightly pushed into her mouth for her to take ahold of. Once it was safely gifted, she would be freed from her torment. Matthew would step back, but still hold her hand as he led her towards the nearby staircase. The thugs had averted their eyes, amusingly enough. Once they were up the stairs, he softly spoke to her, the intensity in his stare not near as bad as before. "I apologize for them. The security here isn't much more than just sacks of flesh holding swords. There is an employee entrance in the back of the building, across the hall and down the stairs. I might speak to Brega about allowing you access through there, since you are a regular customer who also values her privacy with me." He found their room, the one they had given Wrenmae the haircut in, and gracefully entered. The harlot paused a moment, blinking at what looked to be a body covered up by a multitude of pillows and blankets. It was a bit hard to tell, but the outline was there. Hesitating only for a moment, he crossed over to the bed and poked the lump, eyes burning down into it. "Isme. Isme. Wake up, Isme." The lump did not stir. Matthew stared at it a moment longer, turned, and sat down right next to it, apparently not at all concerned with it. "Isme is a whore who has a drinking problem." It sounded like an insult, but it was said in that matter-of-fact tone that the harlot used most of the time. His sexual energy had all but faded now that they were in the room, and the minute the door was closed, it would completely vanish. The odd occurrence with the kiss and the key was being completely ignored. Crossing one leg over the other, he peered at Fallon, actually curious in his next question. "Are you at all familiar with the history of Sunberth? I found some books in the local Library, and though I haven't read them, I am now rather curious."

[Fallon]

There was only the slide of the eyes to the guards, before they snapped back to the Harlot. He had started to make a move, the long limbs untwisting themselves from their rooted spot and those hungry eyes staring at her. There was no playfulness this time, no look that set her skin crawling – it was quite the opposite. Her throat constricted, those eyes staring back into his, the lingering instinct pressing against her mind. Even she could not help but feel that nudging, animalistic self press against her sense. It was with a blink however that she reined it back, her fingers rubbing at her throat to halt the trilling that had grown.

Her chin lifted; a deep inhale as she stilled herself. She had to keep her focus, to desensitise herself from the situation. It was an act, a charade, a lie. He did not care, he did not feel, and nor should she. But why – even with such knowledge - did such presence cause her to choke and squirm internally? No, now was not the time for such thoughts. Forcing her lip to curl she pushed down that urge to run, to turn upon her heel and flee. But there was that flicker, the break of lips into a smile – or at least one that would have been if it was not for the key. And it was only as he was upon her that she realised the full picture of this trick.

At first she was hesitant, her mind having skipped into a blank lull. Could she allow such intimacy? What would people think? Not that it particularly mattered now due to these already growing frequent visits to her ‘man’ – but still she had some reputation to uphold. The hot breath caressed her lips, that last moment of grace before the plunge. Her mind rose to create an illusion, to smother the sensation from what it actually was – a trick to pretend it was someone she actually cared for. A loved one, a partner, an adoration – the names and faces flickered on through and continued to do so as the key was passed from one to the other.

Pulling away she released a blush, her teeth chewing upon her lips. The key was an uncomfortable weight, the pressure of the kiss still resting heavy against her. The mind wavered, the breath being taken from her. Intrusive, pressed upon, it clenched at her core for those chimes as he lead her away. She could feel the repulsion, the pressing weight down as the key was slid round. Perhaps it was a good thing Matthew was leading her, it meant that she still had opportunity to collect her thoughts.

So the guard is increasing? What does that mean? They have more money? Or are they suspecting something? Special client or another factor to take into place? Eyes flickered down the hallway, a long suck in of the air. She had the words of Zandelia turn in her head, the looking and seeing of the word, Five doors, the flight of stairs running down to out back. An escape route? She felt the key clink against a tooth, Is that what the key is for, or…? Got it right on the privacy though.

There were only nods in understanding; it was difficult to talk with such an object concealed within her mouth. She considered how Matthew managed to do it with such ease, more so without dribbling everywhere and talking in a strange, sluggish, lisp. She gave a sniff, and simply put it down to practice.

With the familiar room of frequent torture before her, she simply watched as the Harlot go about to tend to the seemingly sleeping individual if only for a brief ticks. The key slid about in her mouth once more, before she pushed it against her cheek to try and speak.

”I am not familiar, at all if really. The opportunity… has not arisen to do so,” her eyes slid over to the sleeping whore at that point, her brow bending into a line as she slurped back the forming spit, ”I would like to at some point learn about it. Why do you ask?” Pausing she returned her gaze to Matthew, a steady blink as she considered what exactly it was he wanted, ”Wait. Sunberth has a library? That is… news to me.”
Petching key,Taking a step over Fallon took a long hard look at the lump upon the bed, ”Is she… going to disturb us for much longer?”

[Matthew]

He had noticed the blush, but he had not understood it for what it was. Instead, the harlot had silently commended her acting ability. The soft blush, the bite of her lip, it had all looked quite correct. For all intents and purposes it had been a passionate kiss, and she had managed to take the gift that he had secretly given her. The kiss lingered in Matthew's mind for all of .3 ticks and then was forgotten. He gave away such things like Fallon breathed air. It was natural, emotionless, and simple. It was what he sold, and if anything, Fallon should be thankful she had gotten one for free. It wasn't that he was prideful about the quality of his kiss. It was just that it was all business and she had gotten a large discount. A glance back to make sure she was still following, and Matthew noticed the glint in her eye. She was studying her surroundings, it seemed. Had she taken his words to heart? Had she realized something might be wrong? Or was it a new habit of hers? It was a good habit to have. He had studied these rooms and hallways front to back, locking the memories away in his mind for further use down the road. He wasn't so sure if he would need them at any point. The last time he had needed them had been when he was planning this entire thing. "Why do you want to kill my client tonight?" Matthew's voice remained distant, but there was a hint of annoyance at the very edge. The two men stared down at him, a certain sort of madness to their eyes, as well as a certain amount of surprise. One was already drawing a blade. They had come here to be patched up, not to be interrogated on their plan. Why was the harlot doctor sticking his nose in things that did not concern him? "Client? Someone you favor, boy? If you favor her, maybe you favor the cause we have a hunch she stands for. If that is the case, maybe we favor you dead." One stepped forward, hand reaching out for Matthew, the other setting his blade at the ready. The harlot tilted his head, eyes glazing over for a split second. They went blank, his mind going somewhere else, his brain clicking and twisting as the automation roared to life. Just as fingertips brushed his throat, Matthew came back to life. "What if I lead her to a place where your ambush is sure to succeed?" The oncoming hand paused. The harlot sat on the bed now, memories coming back to him. Fallon was curiously asking about the library, but was then distracted by the lump on the bed. Matthew blinked at her for a moment, then turned his head to regard the mass of blankets that held the sleeping figure. He hadn't received much time. They wanted to strike that very night. He had sent the request, and then he had gotten to work. He had reviewed those mental drawings of Brega's house, reviewed the steps that they took every time they met. Ideally, it would be a better place to ambush her. She would be in the presence of someone that she was at least a little comfortable with, she would be in a closed room, she would be in a building where they could plant more of their fellows. All he had to do was lead her into the room, and then she would be in a position where she would be trapped between the brutes and the harlot. Her question went unanswered as the entrance to the room was suddenly filled by the two brutes, tall and scarred forms briefly squeezed against each other as they pushed into the room. Each of them held steel. Their eyes held murder. They were here to kill, and they were here to kill without a second though. It quickly left Fallon the option of going for Matthew first, or dealing with the two brutes and whoever else they might have first. Then again, she might find another option, he didn't know. If her mind was as quick as he thought it was though, she would quickly put together the pieces. Trap. Matthew didn't look mad, didn't look delighted or sly, didn't look sad. He just blinked at the pile of blankets as the men made their entrance. This would make him a traitor at some level. If she was the type to give into rage, perhaps she would turn her back on the two men to kill him first. Perhaps she had other ways to deal with him first. The harlot wasn't so stupid that he would assume he could handle her in a fight. He couldn't handle anyone in a fight. If she came for him first, he'd be a dead man. So he had accounted for that too. All in the space of a tick or two, so quiet that only Fallon and Matthew would be able to hear it, the harlot spoke. "I lied. That isn't Isme." OOCIf you don't mind, wait to post until our surprise guest posts.

[Kaie]

Right on cue the figure beneath the blankets began to stir. A hand slowly snaked its way across the torso of the body beneath the veil of sheets. Then within a sudden flash of covers and a metallic song of a blade tearing itself free of its prison, a wild eyed woman with skin bronzed by the unrelenting heat of a foreign sun was revealed. As if to accentuate the barbaric appearance of the female, a loincloth hugged at her hips and a single buttoned leather vest wrapped about her upper torso. Her brown hair was a mess of curls worsened by her previous place of hiding. The amber hues of the savage's eyes that glared down upon the trapped individual were likened to that of a wildfire. An insidious curl of her lips over bared teeth was all any onlooker needed to understand her intentions.

With a low growl Kaie leaped from the bed to the floor in front of Matthew, barring off the traitorous harlot from Fallon's wrath if it did come. The abrupt display was enough to cause the two armed men to jerk their weapons in the direction of the bed, their brows raised momentarily before they exchanged glances and shrugged their shoulders. Then once more did their focus fall upon their target. The trap had been sprung and their prey caught between swords. Their circumstance could not have been more favorable. It seemed the whore had done his job after all, and added the help of the Myrian female as a bonus.

Gladius. Strike to the sides of the throat. Don't forget the large river of blood that comes from severing the flesh of the inner thigh.

Kaie's burning gaze swept across the room. Over the two brutes and flickered twice toward Matthew before her eyes settled again more firmly on Fallon. Slowly her fingers readjusted their grip upon the weapon as if in preparation.

Might need to improvise for a take down. A blow to the temple or the spot just below the sternum will do. Move quick. Be swift. Always in motion.


"Goddess Queen, I spill this blood for you," Kaie murmured darkly in her own brutal tongue, muscles tense as she fell into a predatory crouch. The brutes were looming near...it would all be over soon.

[Fallon]

It was as the harlot sat on the bed, the silent gaze that blinked upon the mass that the unsettling feeling began to creep in. And whilst that slow tick stretched out and spun did the scene finally unfold. The door barely rattling, it swung open with a crash; the two thugs piling in ready. It was barely a heartbeat after that Fallon was leaping into a response. There was nothing felt other than the cry to fight erupting within. Her hand grasped the kukri, drawing it out. The emotions came next, her teeth clenching around the key. Eyes burned upon him, the beating of adrenal clawing and twisting its way up. Tactics, plans and ideas flooded in – all speaking the same conclusion.

Trap.

It was as good as time as any to do it, and it made sense. Her guard would have been down, the self security lax and she would be available with one who could easily betray her. Was it rage that consumed her? She felt the trill press against her throat, her form rising up upon her toes. So far her head had counted three to deal with; the harlot and two thugs. The ‘Not Isme’ was another condition to also deal with – a wild card that would have to be weighed up and dealt with as necessary.

With the numbers going round she felt the pull upon her djed, the internal swirling of energy. She gave a pull upon her projection, the strings shuddering and wriggling free. That bubbling power, that rising of hairs as she looped her left hand behind her belt. It fell limp not long after.

And then things began to turn on its head.

The Myrian came hurtling forward from beneath the bed covers, barely covered in anything but ready for blood – who’s exactly Fallon was not quite sure, but she was not about to wait around to find out. Braying for it almost in her snarls, the thugs seemed to flinch in response; an opportunity that she took to strike. With the immediate pressing danger behind her that was where she turned her attention to. Of course, there was no exact knowledge of where exactly the thugs were in comparison to her and whilst caution begged her to look before making a move she did not have much of a choice.

There was no time to waste, it was a call of kill or be killed that rung loudly in her mind. The projected left arm shot forward, whipping and slicing through the air, a large swipe of the ethereal limb wrapping itself around whatever was possible of one of the thugs. Throat, face, around the limb to restrict movement – anything. Her brow furrowed, her teeth gritted tightly with concentration, her form twisting and bringing the kukri round with the other hand.

There was a clatter as the tip met the curve, a crunch of metal as her body gave a cry in response to the sudden, sharp movement. But as she moved it left the snarling Myrian guard dog – that face, where had she seen it before? – in her blind spot. She winced, her focus torn between both sides once more. Too close of quarters it left her vulnerable, and who knew what exactly was going on from all angles. Not that the base primal side seemed to care too much about such technicalities, it was more focused on carving her way to freedom than anything else. Her feet moved, a quick step so she stood side on between them. One of the thugs began his advance, the other was preoccupied with something much more pressing to his person.

Lips parted into a rough growl, the audible sounds vibrating through the air, ”What, the petch do you want?” Of course, she knew the answer already – but it still felt the right thing to ask.

The djed pulled, the astral limb tightening its grasp as it clung to him. It squeezed, the quivering throat choking, the tendril contracting around the windpipe. Hands flailed, the thug reaching up to his throat as he tried to pry whatever was strangling him off. The other however was reacting of course, wanting her blood to be painted along the walls and floors in a spray. The blade was drawn back, the grinding slicing the air and then brought in for a definite swing at her.

And thus it began.

[Matthew]

Matthew was the only unmoving item in the room now. He sat there like a stone statue, face more passive and stoic than ever before. To anyone who knew him well enough, they would know that his face showed the exact opposite of what he was feeling. The more he felt, the more his features turned to stone. The more he was in control, the more his features came alive. Bzzzzz. Static erupted in his mind. He blinked and then breathed, letting the static spread throughout him. He felt so alive as his mind began to move faster than the events surrounding him. He stepped around Kaie, observing, blue eyes scanning every little detail. She had changed since he had last saw her. The female had a body that was more sculpted, more in shape, slightly more bronze than normal. Her eyes were wild but filled with a primal sort of joy as she brandished her sharp steel. She wasn't a completely feral animal though. There was intellect behind that stare as she considered the battle in front of them. Did she process thought like Matthew did? Was it a world of its own? She was ready though, on guard, eager to spring forth. Praise to Myri, no doubt. He turned, motioning a hand, bringing Fallon's moving image a bit closer. She had been armed, as he had hoped she would. That had been one of the parts of his plan that had worried him. If she wouldn't have been armed, things could have gone a very different way. Her eyes were hard to read, not quite angry, just glimmering with that same intellect that Kaie had in her own fierce stare. He briefly wondered if he would ever be able to exist in that world, in that world of blood and danger. Then Fallon was moving, deflecting steel and... Matthew paused, sweeping a hand aside to discard Fallon's image. He clenched his fist towards his chest, dragging one of the mercenaries to him. He had lifted a hand to his throat, was struggling to breath. There was actual impressions upon his throat, the flesh sunk in as if fingers were wrapped around it. He reached forward to grab the invisible threat, and his eyes went wide as he actually sunk his meaty paw into something solid. Something that could not be seen, but something solid...? The thug didn't seem to have a clue, and his lack of any other response but panicked flailing was proof of that. No, wait, he was swinging his sword. The other was about to swing his as well. The harlot snapped back to reality, still sitting perfectly on his bed. Would Fallon be able to make it to the door? Had she realized that somewhere during all of this he had given her the best escape route? Or perhaps she was able to kill them all. Perhaps a soft bluff would push things more in the direction he had hoped? Quietly, calmly, he spoke at the brutes. "Did you leave the rest to block off the front door, or are they coming up to stairs?" At the same time he focused deep within himself, dipping his hand within the pool of djed that sat in his stomach. He lifted it up, bathing his eyes in the essence, lighting the room in auras that only he could see. It was only then when the thin aura of the phantom arm came into existence, Matthew's eyes widening briefly. An unexpected element. A variable. Should he warn the brutes? He kept quiet. Kaie would be the only one to recieve such a warning if the phantom limb decided to lunge towards her.

[Kaie]

It all had happened so...quickly. One moment the two men had begun their advance with weapons in hand, bloodthirsty sneers upon their gruff faces. The next there was a strangled cry and the clawing of rough hands at some sort of invisible entity that seemed to exist only in his own mind. Yet there he was, choking and gasping against an unseen force with an urgency that made the Myrian's brow raise in utter shock and her eyes darken with deep disdain in light of the reality.

Dhani magic...

With one subdued by whatever strange magic Fallon had put into play, it left only one assailant left to take down the intended target. His teeth were gnashed together in a furious growl calling for murder, eyes dilated with the rush of adrenaline and sword raised with malicious intent. The predatory eyes of the sunkissed female were quick to latch onto the sight. Within a tick there came a thunderous kick of her heart and the tensing of lean muscle, before she sprung forward with a battle cry of her own to a goddess residing far from Sunberth.

A gladius shot upward into the downward slice of the enemy sword, the weapons screeching against one another in metallic hisses for superiority. Kaie's teeth clenched in reaction to the force, arms tightening to maintain the shotty form she had managed to get together in the time it took her to intercept his attempt on Fallon. With the initial threat diminished into a momentary stalemate, the Myrian leaned back just enough to create space to rocket her foot into the brute's chest. The man stumbled backward into the nearby wall with little qualm. Just enough to earn some time to think.

Need to get to the door. No, need to get Fallon to the door. What of the reinforcements? Will there be more waiting outside?

Kaie shot Fallon a backward glance, amber eyes hardened by conflict but the stare not unfriendly to the woman. Really, she was hoping her theatrical display with the bed sheets and her bull rush to stop the sword hadn't merited an assault by the drawn Kukri. Slowly she eased back toward the familiar woman while clutching her gladius defensively before her. Her enemy had rebounded rather quickly, expression turning from surprise in the Myrian's true purpose to anger.

"Hello again," She said with a crooked grin, voice dripping with cynicism in the face to the irony of their meeting. "Unless you have a better idea, guess I've gotta help you cut your way to that door." The man began to rush forward, the Myrian responding with a more combat ready stance and a bit of entering her voice.

"Did you leave the rest to block off the front door, or are they coming up to stairs?"

Goddess, dammit. Please let them be at the front door, She thought bitterly, though the prospect of reaping more souls for Dira in an informal ritual of warfare for Myri did have its appeal. Yet for a moment she flickered her eyes from the oncoming sword-wielder to steal a glance at Matthew. Sometimes she swore as much as she admired his unorthodox thought process, she never gave him the credit he deserved. Maybe she'd tell him when this was over...maybe.

[Fallon]

The Myrian leapt into action. With the wrangled cry of one thug, and the other caught in a momentary sock of what was going on. Then again so did everyone else in the room in fact – caught between the look of terror on his eyes, the firm imprint as the astral limb continued to constrict and squeeze around the windpipe. Feet pulled together and back, a quick step as she looked to avoid the approach. At first Fallon braced herself, her attention snapping between both oncoming blades and the form focusing on leaning back and away. But as the steel screeched its song, and the man was pushed back did the scene continue to play itself.

It was the pop that drew her attention back to the strangled thug. His face having gone red, the form staggering as the pressure grew. Her dropped to one knee, his blade dropping with a clatter and the bulging eyes watching his partner be kicked across the room. For a moment her shoulders rolled, the kukri raising defensively to the back glance. Friend or Foe? She was not about to let her guard down just yet – after all, it was the same thing that got her into this situation to begin with.

Gasping and writhing the hold tightened, her brow meeting into a frown. Part of her wanted to lash out, to fling the blood around the room and leave the world as she came in – kicking and screaming. But on the other side, the common sense pulled itself back and forced a rule of a more tactful thinking mind. Eyes burned, the hum of fury and passion ringing in the back of her mind before it was averted to the thug. There was a suck in of the air, her eyes turning to the thug as she focused.

”So how much you being paid this time?” came the unintentional growl. Her brow pinched, jaw tightening. There was a pulse, the writhing man desperate for air as he clawed forward for some false freedom, that last tremble as he simply collapsed. It was the sickening choking noise, a rattling gasp and then nothing. The dead weight fell to the floor, the tremble of her own throat as the limb withdrew. There was a second step back, the ethereal snake withdrawing so it hovered poised and ready. She knew she was far from danger, and the ebbing feeling of strained limbs it was tempting to allow its return. But first, the other thug had to be dealt with.

Teeth clenched, eyes blinked. Of course she was at their whims, she did not know their plan – or at least Matthew’s. Such an enigma, such a confusion. And a potential source of trouble. What did he want? Goals? End game? Some form of petty revenge? Or was he now under the thumb of another? No, now was not the time to think such a thing, not when there was the chance of more charging her way.

”No better ideas, just a lot of questions,” there was a pause as her eyes flickered to Matthew, followed by a sharp glare as she tried to understand, ”And a lot of things to think about. Let’s get the show moving shall we?”