Quoth the Raven (Open)

[Slade]

The raven swooped over a rooftop, survying the bustling streets below with a wary eye. Anyone who happened to look up would have no doubt been surprised to see a bird clutching a loaf of bread in its claws.

Slade had by this time gotten used to letting Jericho take control while flying, for the most part. But it still never failed to ratle him whenever he passed particularly close to a chimney or made any particularly sudden swerves. It was his body after all. Not having control of his own body had once been a jarring experience, but at this point, he was accustomed to the feeling.

Would it kill you to slow down, Jericho?

Jericho's laughter echoed inside his head. Slade was always surprised by how similar Jericho's voice sounded inside his head to his own voice. It was perhaps a touch deeper, but fundamentally, the voices were the same. Logically, it made a lot of sense seeing as they occupied the same body and mind. Unfortunately, Kelvic's have never been that great with logic.

Time is of the essence, my friend. And besides, didn't I tell you to stop backseat driving?

What the hell does that even mean?

Another thing Slade had gotten used to was Jericho's often incomprehensible comments. Before he could deipher Jericho's latest puzzle, the raven dived down into an alley, drawing a mental yelp from Slade. The raven winced as it dropped the bread and landed daintily on the ground.

Keep that up and you'll give us a headache. grumbled Jericho.

Oh, and diving head first into the ground won't?

Jericho relinquished control, but the argument continued to rage on inside of Slade's head as he shifted back into human form, instantly moving a hand to cover his private parts. One thing Bellamonte had instilled into him was a sense of modesty which was somewhat uncommon among most Kelvics.

Slade scurried over to the backpack leaning against one of the walls of the alley. He fished his only set of clothes out of the pack and began to hurriedly put them on, as well as his gauntlets and Bladed boots upon urging from the ever alert Jericho.

Relax, he thought as he adjusted the boots. It's not like we're going to bump into anyone now.

Unfortunately (or perhaps fortunately?) the Gods seemed to love proving Slade wrong.

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Open to anyone!

[Sondra]

TS: 1st Week of Winter, 509 AV

The alley was a narrow slip between two buildings, overhanging eaves kept most the season's snow from turning the cobblestones a downy white. Instead, a sluice of ice and dirt dripped from the eaves to the slick ground.
A narrow door was recessed in the western wall. Its hinges were rusted and it looked like it was barely used. Perhaps it was a servant's entry when the building had seen better days.

Syliras was full of happy coincidences, though, as if the gods meddled in even minor matters. Today the door saw its first use in weeks and groaned to life as a body was forcefully expelled from the building. A white and gray tangle of fabric and skin slammed and slid on the ground.

"Come back here and you'll have six inches of Syliran fist down your throat!" Growled a man from within.
The pale humanoid spun around to face the figure hidden in the door and shouted back,
"Not before you have twelve inches of Konti foot up your ass!"

The door slammed shut as the bedraggled heap of a person sprung to attack it. Her face met with solid oak and a clicking lock. Thwarted, the Konti sneered and uttered a swear that turned the air black. As a final expression of her opinion, she spit on the door.

Tasting a new defeat, she righted her cloak and turned to leave the alley. Slade's previously undetected presence gave her a start and her slate colored eyes gave the half naked Kelvic an amazed once over.

"Priskil's piss," she muttered, "You must be drunker than I am to stand naked in this weather."

[Slade]

Slade yelped and almost shifted back into raven form back then and there as he saw the white haired woman. Though Slade didn't consider himself to be a coward, he knew that his bravery wasn't exactly legendary. Jericho's laugh echoed through his head.

Very smooth, Casanova. It's a wonder that we haven't gotten laid yet.

Slade didn't even both to wonder who or what Casanova was. He did however send the equivilant of a mental slap towards Jericho. He was rewarded with Jericho's surprised grunt. He just barely managed to refrain from sprouting feathers, deciding instead to see where the situation would go.

"Priskil's piss. You must be drunker than I am to stand naked in this weather," said the woman.

Slade looked down and realized that he had failed to slip on his shirt, revealng his wiry form. His face flushed and he unconsciously raised a hand to cover his chest. To his surprise, he saw that a dagger was clutched in his hand.

I'm going to suppose this was your doing?

Jericho chuckled darkly and Slade felt him shrug.

Guilty as charged.

Slade ignored him and straightened up to his full height. He placed his hand casually behind his back, obscuring the dagger from view. His experiences with the opposite sex had so far been few and far between. He appraised this particular specimen, eyeing her from her feet to her wintery locks.

I like her, said Jericho with unusual enthusiasm.

A particular piece of advice which Lucien had once given him sprung to mind. Sladey, if you ever come face to face with a real life woman, you've got to play it cool. With this in mind, Slade extended his hand and gave the woman his best debonair grin.

"Hey there, babe," he crooned, deepening his voice for added affect. "How you doin'?"

Slade felt Jericho's smirk.

Very nice.

[Sondra]

Sondra's eyebrows went up at Slade's half crooned greeting, but her expression warmed and her mouth slipped into a tempting smile.
She walked towards him with a feline tilt to her hips. She glanced at his outstretched hand, but decided to play coy and ignore it.
Choosing to lean against the wall where Slade had rested his pack, she lifted her hungry eyes toward him. There were prettier Konti's out there, but this one had the added appeal of looking game.

"I am doing grand, handsome." She put her throaty voice to good use.

Suddenly, the loaf Slade had balanced on his pack was in her chapped hands and she was hungrily tearing off a piece with her teeth. The crumpled woman ate her stolen bite with relish, all the smoothness of seduction replaced by a plain and boring hunger.

"Much better now, since I am starving," the velvety timbre of her voice was long gone.

With a wad of bread still in her cheek she asked, "That line ever work, scarecrow?"
She swallowed before continuing, "I mean Konti have a reputation for being a little free and easy, but really?"

Having torn off another piece, she tossed what was left of the bread towards Slade's chest.
"Thanks. Times are tough and liquor is expensive."

[Slade]

Slade wasn't quite sure what was going on. One minute, it had seemed like Lucien's advice had payed off, and then the next the woman was wolfing down his bread like she hadn't eaten in years.

Women, scoffed Jericho. The most unpredictable creatures in the universe.

What the hell just happened?

Broseph, you just got played.

Slade shook his head as he gingerly approached the woman. He was unsure what to make of her. Her voice sent a strangely pleasant chill through his spine. Not only that, as she had sauntered towards him, his heart had begun to pound against his ribcage with startling force. Was it magic? That seemed to be the only reasonable explanation.

She threw the tattered remains of the loaf at his chest. He caught it reflexively and stared down at it, unable to keep the disappointment from his face. He had worked hard to get the bread and he hadn't even been able to take a single bite out of it yet. He didn't experience anger often. In this case, Slade supposed he had a right to be at least a little annoyed. From what he had learned, taking something that didn't belong to you didn't exactly classify as good manners.

Not so nice when the shoe is on the other foot, is it? interjected Jericho.

Slade decided to ignore him once again. Instead, he decided to confront the white haired woman.

"Listen here, missy. I don't know if you haven't noticed, but that bread was mine," he said, his voice tinged with annoyance.

"I don't care if times are tough, they're about to get a lot tougher if you don't find a way to pay me back," growled the Kelvic.

Slade blinked, surprised. He hadn't meant to add that.

My bad, snickered Jericho.

[Sondra]

Sondra tilted her head at Slade. His sudden surge of aggression was unexpected.

"And they say chivalry is dead," the Konti parried dryly.

Her initial surprise had turned flat as if natural emotion was bowing out. What remained was a weary kind of apathy, fearlessness without bravery.

She could have absorbed anything then: a kick to the head, a hundred vile terms or public shaming. Sometimes she felt like she deserved all three, when the line between her conscience and their guilt blurred. Others' sins passed through her in visions and waves, always leaving a taint behind.

"Blood from a stone, scarecrow." She slowly pronounced.
"Take your best shot if it makes you feel any better." She opened her arms with a wan and wry smile.
"But I'm not going to suddenly spew gold and cake because you're cross."

The Konti waited a beat, reading Slade's reaction before continuing.

"Are you as hard up as I am, or are you just a sore loser?" There was true curiosity in the question.
"If the former, you can come with me to try and scam a few silvers. If the latter, I've got better things to do, than soothe your ego so take a swing and be done with it."

[Slade]

Slade cocked an eyebrow, puzzled by the Konti's reaction- or lack thereof- to his unintentional threat. He wasn't some fearsome warrior so threats weren't his usual area of expertise, but he had thought that the woman would have shown at least some signs of intimidation.

The woman responded to Slade's empty threats with shattering indifference, far more unsettling than if she had responded with anger or indignation. She showed no remorse whatsoever for what she had done. Even curioser, she spread her arms and gave Slade an ultimatum. Either join her in an attempt to scrounge a few coins, or strike her down right then and there. Slade's hand suddenly began to tighten around the dagger.

Jericho...

Come on, Sladey. Stick it into her pretty little neck. She deserves it, snarled Jericho, his voice taking on that chillingly familiar rawness.

Slade continued to stare at the woman with glazed eyes,his face contorted with exertion as he struggled to maintain control over his body.

No! Are you crazy? We can't kill her!

Jericho responded in that same dark voice, even raspier than before.

Can't we? Her arms are wide open. I know you want to. Hell, I am you. And I sure as hell want to.

Slade could feel Jericho pushing at his barriers and felt his walls beginning to crumble against the tremendous pressure. He had felt like this once before, when Jericho had murdered Morgan. Slade took a step backwards and shook his head.

Not this time. This is my body. Killing Morgan was one thing, I'm not going to let you kill an innocent person.

Innocent? She-

I said no!

A vein pulsed in his temple as an intense heat began to surge through his brain. Slade screwed his eyes shut and pushed back at Jericho's assault with all his strength. Then suddenly, the pressure was gone.

Nice to know that you've grown a pair, Sladey. Have fun.

Then for the first time in a long time, Jericho fell silent.

Slade opened his eyes and let out a sigh of his relief. He looked at the Konti and let a smirk crawl across his features. He had won. For better or worse, he would to let the white haired woman live.

"You know what, consider the bread a gift," he said cheerfully. Time to let his famous Kelvic charm kick in. Lucien had once said that the Kelvic are like puppy dogs. Irresistibly cute, even if they did chew on your furniture.

"I'd like to take you up on that first offer, if you don't mind. Looks like you might need my help anyway. I can scam the wings off of a Zith." He added in a mischevious wink for effect. Perhaps a slight exaggeration, but Slade hoped that she would get the gist of what he was saying.

He extended a hand once more.

"The name's Slade."

[Sondra]

Her offer resulted in a tense silence, most of which Slade spent with his eyes shut, as if fighting instinct or a cloud of pain. She steadied her stance, anticipating a scuffle. He'd get one good hit, she decided, anything more he'd be forced to earn.

Suddenly, Slade opened his eyes. They had a new calm and clarity, leading Sondra to believe scarecrow had one helluva temper to bridle.

"The wings off a Zith, eh?" She almost smiled. "Well, I can sell ice in Avanthal, so something tells me this just might work out."
Sondra was a quick and talented liar, but her skills of persuasion were often hampered by her lack of patience. Having a charmer around might do her good.

Once again, his hand went out. Sondra looked at it longer than was polite, as she pulled on a pair of gloves. Depending on the severity of the vision, sometimes they worked as a barrier. She finally took his hand, not wanting to rile him any further.

"Sondra."
She recoiled from the shake like someone touching a dead thing.

In that flicker of contact, Slade felt like blood was rushing to his hand and being drawn into hers. Sondra turned sharply towards the exit of the alley, feeling a sickness permeate her body from her gut.

The woman was trembling. She rubbed her hands together, trying to pass it off as shivers.
"You'd think I'd be used to this weather after years in Avanthal," she commented.

There were worse sins to find than violent murder, but it still made her queasy. Especially when the manner of death was as graphic as tearing out a throat. It had been a while since she witnessed that level of brutality.

Sondra smiled at Slade, she was going to get him some money, then drop him like a heavy bag of dog shyke.

"I have a scam I like to stick to. You know much about Kontis and fortune telling?"

[Slade]

Slade flexed his hand and stared at the Konti with a mixture of surprise and suspicion. The woman- Sondra- had ripped her hand away upon contact with his skin and was now shaking, looking as if she'd just seen a ghost. She tried to convince Slade that the cold was the cause of her trembling, but Slade knew a lie when he saw one. Sondra had showed no signs of being particularly bothered by the weather before and this sudden onslaught of quakes was more violent than anything caused by the cold. Slade narrowed his eyes as Sondra smiled at him. She was hiding something. That rush of blood...had she stolen something else from him?

Still, working with Sondra would give him the chance to work on his scamming skills and get something shiny in return for his troubles. He couldn't resist that. Damn his inner raven.

He shivered slightly himself as a particularly chilling wind swept through the alley. He remembered with a jolt that he was still half naked. Casually, he bent down and picked up his shirt while he answered Sonda's queston. The dagger remained hidden behind his back. The Konti was acting friendly now but could turn hostile at the drop of a hat. Slade made sure to be ready for anything. Better safe than dead, Lucien had always said.

"Can't say I do. You just happen to have the honour of being the first Konti I've met. But luckily, I'm a fast learner."

He slipped on his shirt before picking up his pack from the wall. The edged gauntlets went into the pack as well, those would attract far too much attention. Besides, he still had his bladed boots in case anything went wrong. The Kelvic turned back to Sondra, smiling warmly at her.

"Let's walk and talk. I need to stretch my legs. After you, my dear."

Slade gestured don the alley and stepped back to let Sondra pass.

He'd be damned if he let that woman have the opportunity to wedge a knife between his shoulder blades.

[Sondra]

Despite the cloud of mutual distrust, the pair smiled at one another and showed eagerness for their next endeavor. He was afraid she'd stab him in the spine and steal him blind, while she worried he'd lose his temper and try to remove one of her vital organs with his teeth. It was a recipe for a charmed companionship if there ever was one.

To encourage the idea all was well Sondra stepped out first. Her shoulders tingled as she felt his presence behind her. When they reached the street, she waited for him to fall in line beside her before continuing.

"Well, Konti are known for a bit of mental hoodoo," she realized her flippant description would have to be amended.
"I mean they," odd how she didn't say 'we', "Have various psychic abilities. Seeing futures, reading thoughts, discerning truth, sensing emotions, things like that. Some have stronger and more useful gifts than others. We also have a tendency towards simpler methods of fortune telling, like palmistry, tea leaves and tarot."
Sondra continued, though her look had turned wry, "Most people just know this is what we can do, but they fail to consider it's not perfect and isn't always under our control."
Her mouth made a mocking smile, despite a sympathetic shape to her eyes.
"People like to believe there can be control and certainty about the unknown. They're hungry for it. I step in as the mythic Konti and give them an aspect of control, for a price."

Sondra was now reaching the mechanics of things, "My standard is reading palms, posing as a wandering Konti in need of some means to support herself."
Her womanly voice took on a more delicate pitch and breathiness as she added, "Because the world is so cold outside Mura."
The façade dropped, "But there's other scams I can run. Especially with two people, but they take longer and the risk is higher."

Sondra paused a moment, "Funny thing is, it wouldn't be a scam if I actually was a palmist. I can fortune tell, but my means is expensive and the visions unpredictable."
The Konti adjusted her cloak and checked the crossroads before them, gauging which direction she wanted to go.
"That and nobody would pay to hear most of what I see. Ill omens love me."
It was funny to her because it was a joke about a secret pain. She was a grand comedian in that sense, seeing absurdity in the pain's very existence.