His wounds still seeped and stung, but they wouldn't slow him down if the brawl erupted yet again. Between two people, though, it would be more of a... duel?
Kasoria chuckled inwardly and looked at around at their company. Which, by now, consisted of still and brutalized bodies, groaning, sobbing, cursing cripples of tomorrow, and one softly, savagely cursing bar owner trying to pull a dagger from his shoulder. Unsuccessfully. No-one else had stayed around, not even to watch, which one always expected when a fight broke out in Etzos. Street theater: bloody, exciting, and free. But when the Shadow came out to play, ripping about bodies and seeming to reap their very souls with her alien form... everyone bolted.
Wouldn't be much of a duel, he thought, even as his brow furrowed a little. Not that it'll happen, by the looks of it...
His wounds were gnat bites, all things considered. They irritated but did not distract him. Nor did his general exhaustion, the way his chest sucked and heaved and sweat chased itself down his body so soak his clothes. Ten arcs ago, he could have shaken this off and been ready for another round. But time was merciless and played no favorites. Now he was a man edging into the latter half of his fifth decade, and Fates, he felt it.
But he still paid attention. And what he purchased was the fact that she wasn't entering the light. At all.
Maybe she can only do that Shadow Monster shit when she's in shadows, he mused, mentally slapping himself a moment later for such sloppy logic. Oh, brilliant. Work that out all by yourself, did you?
However it worked, the educated guess seemed to buoy the ragged little man with blood-soaked hands. He walked slowly over to where the purse rested, never taking his eyes off the girl. Not just in case she made a move, but... observing. See that every part of her, every scrap of skin, was still in the shadows. She wasn't daring to move beyond the twilight murk, and when he held out the purse...
Only half of it seemed to enter that realm. The other half was in the light (namely, the half attached to his fingers).
When she moved to take it, just before her burnished digits found it-
"One more thing."
-his hand jinxed back, pulling the purse away with a merry tinkle of metal. Outrage flared in her eyes like black spots on the suns, and still she didn't make a move towards him. Mayhap that was something to do with the fact that he was still holding his karambit with his other hand, and she had seen him rip through a squad of drunken, drugged, frothing denizens of the underworld like paper toys... and all without the gifts of an Immortal to aid him. Kasoria and his ego would have liked to think that, and did... but they didn't quite believe it.
She's a snake, not a lion. She thinks, she plans ahead. That makes her more dangerous...
"Youse ever need work, go to the Speckled Jim. Order a pint of Old Peculiar, and ask fer the Old Man. Say the Raggedy Man sent yeh."
... and far more useful.
He put the purse in her hand, submerging his own in in the shadows she called home. A gesture of trust, even if it was reinforced by his grip on his karambit tightening a touch. Once she'd taken it, he smiled and gave her a brief nod. Kasoria would never be described as a man blessed with charm, but he was certainly capable of... a rough civility. She'd helped him, and he wouldn't be forgetting that. But he'd still had to restrain to mad shadow bitch, and he didn't much like the idea of one of her kind on the firm.
And yet... and yet...
Why are people afraid of The Fence? Because of their mage boss, and their Shadow Bitch enforcer. Magic, basically. So we could use some of our own.
"As fer you-"
"FUCK!"
He walked back to Erik without another word and yanked his throwing knife out of his shoulder. The ball of lard wasn't so much terrified and furious now, pressing one hand to his limp arm, glowering and glaring and looking rather comical doing so with several extra chins. Kasoria ignored the look and gestured with the blade.
"Vorund says, no more fucking about with payments. Every season, like clockwork. Any more missing installments, and, well..."
He gestured around him, his feet, the walls, the things dripping down from the ceiling and smashed and cleaved and slumped against the walls. All of it speaking of destruction and calamity. Erik beheld his prosperous little fiefdom brought to the edge of ruin... and all by the efforts of two people. He glared even hotter at Kasoria, then risked giving much the same to the vague, staring form in the shadows beyond him.
"F... Fine..."
"Good lad. Next time, I won't be nearly so restrained."
The assassin made the little knife vanish into his cloak and stalked his way across the floor, swerving and stepping over bodies and wreckage as he went. As he found the door, he turned to the shadow woman one more time. Memorized as much of her face as he could, contenting himself with the fact that while he did not know her name, she didn't know his, either.
Sometimes things are best that way. Especially in our world.
"Until that day," he said, giving an ancient Etzosi farewell to someone most definitely not of the city, and vanishing out into the tunnel beyond the door.
Kasoria chuckled inwardly and looked at around at their company. Which, by now, consisted of still and brutalized bodies, groaning, sobbing, cursing cripples of tomorrow, and one softly, savagely cursing bar owner trying to pull a dagger from his shoulder. Unsuccessfully. No-one else had stayed around, not even to watch, which one always expected when a fight broke out in Etzos. Street theater: bloody, exciting, and free. But when the Shadow came out to play, ripping about bodies and seeming to reap their very souls with her alien form... everyone bolted.
Wouldn't be much of a duel, he thought, even as his brow furrowed a little. Not that it'll happen, by the looks of it...
His wounds were gnat bites, all things considered. They irritated but did not distract him. Nor did his general exhaustion, the way his chest sucked and heaved and sweat chased itself down his body so soak his clothes. Ten arcs ago, he could have shaken this off and been ready for another round. But time was merciless and played no favorites. Now he was a man edging into the latter half of his fifth decade, and Fates, he felt it.
But he still paid attention. And what he purchased was the fact that she wasn't entering the light. At all.
Maybe she can only do that Shadow Monster shit when she's in shadows, he mused, mentally slapping himself a moment later for such sloppy logic. Oh, brilliant. Work that out all by yourself, did you?
However it worked, the educated guess seemed to buoy the ragged little man with blood-soaked hands. He walked slowly over to where the purse rested, never taking his eyes off the girl. Not just in case she made a move, but... observing. See that every part of her, every scrap of skin, was still in the shadows. She wasn't daring to move beyond the twilight murk, and when he held out the purse...
Only half of it seemed to enter that realm. The other half was in the light (namely, the half attached to his fingers).
When she moved to take it, just before her burnished digits found it-
"One more thing."
-his hand jinxed back, pulling the purse away with a merry tinkle of metal. Outrage flared in her eyes like black spots on the suns, and still she didn't make a move towards him. Mayhap that was something to do with the fact that he was still holding his karambit with his other hand, and she had seen him rip through a squad of drunken, drugged, frothing denizens of the underworld like paper toys... and all without the gifts of an Immortal to aid him. Kasoria and his ego would have liked to think that, and did... but they didn't quite believe it.
She's a snake, not a lion. She thinks, she plans ahead. That makes her more dangerous...
"Youse ever need work, go to the Speckled Jim. Order a pint of Old Peculiar, and ask fer the Old Man. Say the Raggedy Man sent yeh."
... and far more useful.
He put the purse in her hand, submerging his own in in the shadows she called home. A gesture of trust, even if it was reinforced by his grip on his karambit tightening a touch. Once she'd taken it, he smiled and gave her a brief nod. Kasoria would never be described as a man blessed with charm, but he was certainly capable of... a rough civility. She'd helped him, and he wouldn't be forgetting that. But he'd still had to restrain to mad shadow bitch, and he didn't much like the idea of one of her kind on the firm.
And yet... and yet...
Why are people afraid of The Fence? Because of their mage boss, and their Shadow Bitch enforcer. Magic, basically. So we could use some of our own.
"As fer you-"
"FUCK!"
He walked back to Erik without another word and yanked his throwing knife out of his shoulder. The ball of lard wasn't so much terrified and furious now, pressing one hand to his limp arm, glowering and glaring and looking rather comical doing so with several extra chins. Kasoria ignored the look and gestured with the blade.
"Vorund says, no more fucking about with payments. Every season, like clockwork. Any more missing installments, and, well..."
He gestured around him, his feet, the walls, the things dripping down from the ceiling and smashed and cleaved and slumped against the walls. All of it speaking of destruction and calamity. Erik beheld his prosperous little fiefdom brought to the edge of ruin... and all by the efforts of two people. He glared even hotter at Kasoria, then risked giving much the same to the vague, staring form in the shadows beyond him.
"F... Fine..."
"Good lad. Next time, I won't be nearly so restrained."
The assassin made the little knife vanish into his cloak and stalked his way across the floor, swerving and stepping over bodies and wreckage as he went. As he found the door, he turned to the shadow woman one more time. Memorized as much of her face as he could, contenting himself with the fact that while he did not know her name, she didn't know his, either.
Sometimes things are best that way. Especially in our world.
"Until that day," he said, giving an ancient Etzosi farewell to someone most definitely not of the city, and vanishing out into the tunnel beyond the door.
