A Courtesan and a Thief[Ang]

[zkjt]

"Get up you whore, my wife will be back soon," the man grumbled as he shoved me off of his chest. Nostrils flaring, I opened my mouth to inform him that the correct term was in fact courtesan but decided against it. If I wanted my full payment, it'd be best I didn't say anything. Doing as he commanded, I sat up on his bed, covering myself with the shawl I had brought with me. Generally speaking, wearing fine clothes wasn't good, as they only ended up getting ripped and filthy and wrecked, so I had decided to start wearing plain dresses and shawls. They covered me the same as other clothes, but at least when these ones were ruined it wasn't a big deal. Pushing my hair over my shoulder, I ran my fingers through it. It was sweaty, and I inwardly groaned. This man had liked to play rough, and most of my groans had been from pain rather then the pleasure I usually faked. I had sweat more than usual, as my body struggled to keep up with this man and his dark pleasures. Shivers overtook my body as I slid my hand down my neck, brushing my fingers lightly over a bite mark that surprisingly hurt. I was used to it though. It was my job.

Working for the Hive definitely had its benefits. I was given a nice room, with servants that would do my bidding, and full access to books and studying tools. growing up, I had never learned mathematics or reading, but rather the ways of sex, something that dominated my life now. As a Shrike I understood the importance of being able to read and do math, and so during the daytime I devoted much of my time to reading as much as I possibly could, and trying to bring myself up to level with the rest of the members of the Hive.

The Hive had welcomed me with open arms when I had first arrived, although an air of displeasure was settling into the minds of the lower-ranking members. Our jobs were becoming less frequent, and our leader, whoever she is, was beginning to distance herself from us. It was a period of dryness, and my work had increased greatly recently, in an attempt to create more job opportunities. In the last week alone I had visited multiple noble's houses, and I was beginning to get tired. Not tired in the literal sense of course. I was 28, in the prime of my life, and beautiful as well. I had friends I could count on, and made enough money that I would be set for the rest of my life. But, that didn't conceal the fact that I was a prostitute. All my life, I had served men and their fantasies, and I had tried escaping it. I did finally escape it as well, although now I was back. I had always wanted more from my life, and the fact that I was getting along by sleeping with fat, old men who didn't give a damn about me, that was beginning to bother me. But, all those men would eventually come crashing down, and their empires would topple. And it all started with me.

"Slut! Go wash yourself. You look disgusting," Jerome called out as he reentered the room. He had washed, and his gray hair was puled back from his head, revealing a wrinkled forehead with multiple liver spots. The man's face was as ugly as ever, an incredibly long, hook nose with pale, watery eyes sunken into his face. He had large red dots around his mouth, and just the memory of what they felt like against my mouth caused me to wince inwardly and shudder. He was tall and lanky, and walked with a limp, some sort of incident when he was a boy. He was an ugly man yes, but a rich man at that, who had many dark secrets to hide. Jerome embezzled money. From the government, from the King himself. He was part of a group of nobles who stole money, either tax money, or money from the treasury itself, and kept it for themselves. It didn't bother me that the King was losing money. Hell, he could lose it all for all I cared. But the Hive was given a chance for blackmail at these opportunities. Before that though, we needed evidence, which was where I came in.

As he approached me I smiled sweetly at him, swinging my long legs over the side of the bed. Jerome's room was very nice, with a King-sized bed big enough for over three people, three wardrobes, multiple mirrors, and an adjacent bathroom. The ceilings were tall, and the windows had rich, cream-colored draperies. A large table sat on the far end of the room, and next to that was the door leading out into the hall, and the rest of the manor. The manor itself was large, though not as large as some I had been in. The number of guards was also reduced, although it was still a fair amount. The outside of the manor looked as good as the inside, with a large green lawn complete with an intricate fountain displaying a dragon breathing fire. Overall, I already had a path of escape planned out.

As he reached me, I swung my arms around his neck, whispering in his ear."You'll have me again won't you?" I sounded desperate and whiny, though apparently I wasn't enticing enough to the old man because he shoved me off of him and pointed to the door. "Out!" he commanded, his voice rising just a tad. I took the hint and made a pouty face, before dressing in what I had brought. I walked toward the door, and was shoved by Jerome as I got closer. I definitely wouldn't regret blackmailing this guy. The door slammed shut behind me, and I was left in a hallway with a guard named Simon.

Simon had escorted me in, and apparently would be escorting me out. He was big, around 6'3, and had thick arms and a powerful chest. His brown hair was shaved short, so he almost appeared bald, and his eyes were a murky blue color. I had studied him when I first arrived, trying to exploit and sort of weakness I could. I had tried being seductive, annoying, sarcastic, but nothing had worked and I had given up. In my left sleeve I twisted the knife I had brought. I never relished using it, but to get to Jerome's study I knew it would be necessary. I smiled sweetly at him, and curtsied. "Why, hello Simon. Great to see you again," I gave him a wink, but his face remained as blank as ever. Turning, he began to walk down the hallway, his steps echoing due to the emptiness and silence of the halls. Grimacing, I followed him.

The hallways were filled with objects of monetary value. There were paintings and portraits, depicting many scenes, there were vases and pottery on pedestals, and there were rugs that lined the walls. I faked interest, occasionally making a comment on how lovely the house was. My attempts as disarming Simon, and distracting him weren't the best, but I hoped I was making some sort of a dent in his seemingly impassable wall. Finally, I saw my opportunity.

As we turned a corner, I saw a large oaken door at the end of the hallway on the left. The door was very intricate and detailed, and I had a large hunch that this was Jerome's study. Quickly making up my mind on what to do next, I pulled the knife out of my sleeve. I balanced it in my left hand, and went into a crouch. Simon appeared not to notice, as he didn't react. I crept closer, but at the last moment Simon whirled, causing me to almost drop the knife. Simon's eyes widened as he saw the knife in my hand, and he raised his hands as if to hit me. I gave him no chance, however, as I drove the knife home deep into his gut. He let out a bellow, but I pulled the knife out and swept it across his throat. He crumbled to the floor, as a puddle of blood began to spread.

I cursed my luck, and grabbed Simon's legs. I looked around wildly, finally spotting a smaller door opposite the supposed study. Opening it, I found a small jacket closet, big enough to fit Simon. Springing into action, I began to drag Simon the the closet. He was large, but I had been working out and I was able to drag him, and then shove him, into the closet. Out of breath, I stared at the ground. Blood was everywhere, leading straight to the closet. At a loss of what to do, I finally decided to rip off one of the rugs on the wall. Tearing it off where it was in place, I placed it upon the ground. The blood was covered, yet there was a large bump where the second carpet covered the first. In a desperate attempt to collect as much Intel as possible, I left it and proceeded to the study door. I feared there might have been charms on the door, but I had no options left. I had slight wards surrounding me, protecting me from weak magical traps and enchantments, and yet a thrill of excitement filled me as I swung the door open.


The study was about the same size as Jerome's bedroom, though instead of a large bed there was a large desk. An unreasonably sized desk, with a single chair in the center of it. behind the chair was a large window, overlooking the back lawn. It was dark outside, and extremely quit. Shelves of books were lined up on either side of the desk, and smaller tables were placed throughout the room. More rich decorations filled the room, things I eyed warily. I didn't doubt they might have had protective charms around them.

I quickly rushed to the desk, examining the multiple drawers that were available. After trying multiple ones, I noticed some were locked and some weren't. Frowning I pulled out a lock pick, intending to try and open then, when I heard something. Freezing, I glanced around the room. Dropping to a crouch, I crept to the left side of the desk, in a shadowy corner. I hoped I was unseen, as I held my breath and awaited whoever was coming.

[Angmor]

Teiris waited, controlling the cadence of his breathing, watching each exhalation turn to mist before drifting away on the breeze. It was cold. Winter had come again to Broddring, although the gods had not yet seen fit to bring forth snow from the mountains that surrounded its proudest city. Teiris could understand the cold. He could see the evidence of it everywhere, from the glittering frost on the stone beneath his feet, to the heavy silence that hung in the air. But he couldn't feel it. He knew that his muscles still possessed the dull ache they had developed through the constant days and weeks of training, but he could no longer feel that either. Instead, every strand of nerve seemed to hum with suppressed energy, like a skilled lute-player warming up for a concert. Teiris couldn't remember a time that he had ever been keyed up, save for a lesser extent as a child, playing games of capture the flag with his friends. It was that same feeling he would get when crossing the line into the opposing territory, the same kind of shivery thrill deep in his gut at knowing he was not safe. Tonight, he would be crossing the same kind of line, except for a much larger payoff than the acquisition of a hidden piece of cloth.

And of course, far greater consequences if he got caught.

Heaving a sigh, he resettled himself into a more comfortable crouch. From there, he concentrated on keeping as still as possible. The dark grey pants and thick jacket he was wearing helped greatly to conceal him on the rooftop on which he was staying, and the doorway access behind him was now well and truly jammed shut. But it still wasn't worth the risk of someone spotting him from some random sightline he hadn't even noticed before. Not to mention, the old noble and his wife sleeping soundly one floor beneath him probably wouldn't take kindly to any noises he managed to make. It was important that he hold this spot. After all, it was one house over from his assigned target for that night: a man named Talvis Jerome. Inwardly, Teiris shook his head. He had been with Nareth and his group for over a month now, but it still struck him as odd when he was assigned to run errands for others, and not going about the business of survival only for himself. The last time he had been in Carvala, he had been a hunted man, a fugitive. According to the wanted poster, he still was, but in reality, the chase was more or less over. Teiris now had the protection and guidance of a group of men and women who were very good at living outside the attention of the law. Since then, they had more or less wiped out any trail that a Paladin could follow, and provided him with an even wider range of aliases with which to confuse the path even further. Before entering Carvala, Rion, Nareth's uncanny expert of deception and disguise, had shown him how to subtly alter his distinguishing features with shades and pigments, and to cover his J-shaped scar with the same. That, combined with the black hair-dye he was now becoming accustomed to using, Teiris looked like a different man. True, a man that carried a passive resemblance to Teiris Vorthain, escaped slave and murderer, but not enough so that a guard or citizen might think of it. Of course, that relative safety came at the price of following orders and contributing however he could to Nareth's clandestine activities.

Tonight was one such contribution. Teiris and Rion had been sent to Carvala to take care of two jobs, both of them burglaries into Hightower residences on opposite sides of the district. Seeing no reason why they couldn't kill two birds with one stone, Rion had assigned Teiris the easier of the two. Not that Teiris was complaining; after all, he knew he was ready. Throughout the last weeks, he had learned more than he had in most years. He had learned about the best ways to run and climb around buildings and rooftops, using fast and efficient methods for getting places others wouldn't even think about, the inner workings of a locking mechanism... he was even far handier with the dagger strapped to his ankle, although he wasn't confident enough to duel a master just yet. All in all, he knew he was perfectly capable of pulling off tonight's job, and relished the chance to prove it.
Just then, the castle belltower began tolling the midnight hour. It was time.

Rising from his crouch, Teiris checked his equipment one last time, running his hands over the various pouches strapped to his belt, along witht the small knapsack on his back that held an extra length of rope should he need it. Everything was accounted for. Nodding to himself, he then picked up one end of the coil of rope beside him, the other end of which was tied securely around an ornate carving on the balcony one floor below. His excitement reached its peak, stretching his senses to the breaking point, like some hunter's instinct screaming for release. Unable to hold himself back, Teiris ran, taking the end of the rope with him. If anyone was watching him, they would have thought what he was about to do was suicide. He was running headlong toward the edge of the roof, on his way toward a very messy death three floors below. What Teiris knew, however, was that the second-story subroof of Jerome's house was only eight feet from the edge of the house, and only six feet below. With all of the running Teiris had done, whether from guards, Paladins or bounty-hunters, that translated into an easy leap. With his final step at the edge of his perch, Teiris pushed off as hard as he could, propelling himself into the void. Time always seemed to slow down at that point, suspended exactly halfway between leaping and falling into the alley below. But right as his forward momentum expired, his feet landed solidly on the slate subroof. Feeling the shock traveling up his legs, Teiris channeled the fall into a forward roll, mostly dissipating the impact before landing in a fighting crouch.

Here he waited, listening hard. His landing had made more noise than he anticipated, and there was always a chance that someone was awake to hear. However, there were no hurried footsteps, no cries of alarm, no steel being drawn. It seemed that luck was still with him. Standing carefully, Teiris checked the rope. After carrying his end across the gap, the strand was now stretched between the two houses, slanted mostly back the way he had come. Smiling to himself, Teiris made his end fast to a gargoyle on the edge of the roof. This was his escape route, should he need it. All he had to do was use a strand of cloth to slide down the slant of the rope, carrying him swiftly to the balcony of the next house. It was, as he had thought before, one of his more clever ideas for burglary. He almost couldn't wait to tell Rion about it.
Right. Focus. The biggest danger is to look forward to the celebration afterword. Stay in the now.
Refocusing, Teiris moved to the second phase of his plan. The subroof on which he now stood was on the east side of the house, and the window that was his entrance point was on south side. Worse, the subroof did not extend that far, so he could not simply walk around to that end of the house. However, the houses southern wing did have a large, decorative ledge, was well as many decorative carvings in the masonry to provide plenty of handholds. As he reached the south side, Teiris surveyed these appraisingly. On his original street-level recon of the house, he had thought himself perfectly capable of the climb. Now, faced with the consequence of a twenty-foot fall and probable broken limbs, he was somewhat less confident. Steeling his nerve, he lowered himself slowly onto the six-inch ledge, taking firm hold of the first set of carvings. From there, he began inching his was slowly and carefully along, testing each movement before he committed. The greatest difficulty came when passing a window, where the carvings were further apart. Teiris scraped past the glass gingerly, hoping that Rion had been right when he said most of the guards were confined to the first floor.
'Most?' Teiris echoed questioningly. "And what about master Jerome himself? What if he gets up for a midnight snack and sees the spider on his wall?"
Rion just laughed. "Trust me, he's already having his midnight snack. And the one guard allowed up there won't be leaving his post, that I promise you."
"I don't get it."
"Prostitution, kid. According to our sources, Jerome has his whore on this night, this time, every week while his wife is out at parties with her friends. So long as you stay away from the north-side windows, you'll have the place to yourself."
Teiris, remembering what sort of man Jerome was, thought that he would have no trouble restraining himself. No trouble at all.
Just then, Teiris' groping fingers encountered a patch of ice. His hold slipped, very nearly dislodging him, but he managed snare another carving just before he plummeted to the courtyard beneath him. He bit back a hissed curse before it was halfway out of his mouth, carefully consolidating his stance as he calmed his suddenly pounding heart.
Almost there... Almost...
Finally, he reached the window that his recon told him belonged to Jerome's study. It was locked, of course, but it was not locked well. It used a very simple, mass-produced lock used for just about everything, and that meant that it had a keyhole even on the outside. Teiris was a amazed that a man who courted such wealth chose to pinch pennies on the measures taken for protecting it. Not that it would matter all that much, of course. After all the training Teiris had received in the world of keys and tumblers and springs, he would never trust a locked door ever again. He was still amazed how simple it was to circumvent, so long as one knew the secret.

This in mind, Teiris unlooped a small length of rope that he had tied around his waist beforehand. With his free hand, he secured it as best he could to a carving. He tested the knot, and then let go. With his feet on the ledge and the rope forming the vertices of a triangle with the wall, he was now suspended at a slant from the wall, leaving his hands free to work. This done, he removed a small roll of lockpicks from his belt, selecting a small pick and narrow probe to insert into the keyhole. Forcing himself not to hurry, he felt around the inner workings of the lock, just as Riggs had been teaching him.
And... only one tumbler. Typical.
By his count, it took one minute of probing and testing, but in the end, the barrel turned, and the window sprang open with an obliging click. Teiris' first instinct was to pull it all the way open, but he restrained himself. Putting away the lockpicks, he produced a tiny vial of oil, brought along for the purpose of oiling the window hinges. A moment later, he was pulling the window silently open, without fear of a telltale creaking. A slight smile of satisfaction on his lips, Teiris slowly and carefully lowered himself through onto the thick carpet inside.

He was in.

Teiris crouched in a pool of moonlight below the window, listening hard as his eyes adjusted to the relative darkness inside. As far as he could tell, the room was about average for a study, if rather spacious and over-decorated. His uncle's study had been far more austere, reflecting a secure and ordered state of mind. This study, in Teiris mind, reflected a insecure and petty one, the way all of the different furnishing vied for attention, screaming out their exorbitant wealth. About the only thing Teiris could admire was the books. As ever, reading was an activity he craved, but never seemed to have time before. Perhaps he might 'liberate' a few on the way out, just as a bonus.
Focus. Job at hand. Ah, the desk...
And there it was, a slab of carven oak standing like a monolith in the moonlight. That was tonight's true objective. Jerome, according to the client, was an embezzler of money. Everyone knew it, but the man just seemed too good at covering his tracks for any upstanding citizen to prove it. As such, the Broddring treasury agent that had approached them was willing to pay for any evidence that proved Jerome's guilt beyond doubt, no matter where or how it was acquired. At last satisfied that he was alone, Teiris moved toward the desk, his padded shoes making no noise in the carpet.

[/blockquote]

[zkjt]

I had learned the ways of stealth by Astrid herself, the Shrike before me. Astrid had not been a kind teacher, and rather then guide me slowly, she pushed me hard. I was a late addition to the hive, and yet she had faith in me, and that faith would eventually pay off. She had spent hours teaching me how to blend into my surroundings, whether it be a crowd, or in an empty room. I had not been good at it, not at first. And I had hated the days when Astrid announced I would be sitting in a corner for 2 hours straight, and I wasn't able to move. And yet now I found myself blessing whatever gods were out there for everything she had taught me.

Crouching low, I controlled my breathing. The noise I had heard had been loud enough that I knew it wasn't the wind, and yet wherever it came from was unknown to me. I slowly put away the lock pick I had intended to use, and just as slowly pulled out the small, intricately carved knife I carried in my back pocket. The blade was small, around 8 inches, but deadly sharp. Another lesson Astrid taught me: Always keep your blade sharp. Resting the handle lightly in my hands, I craned my neck and waited in anticipation. Beads of sweat began rolling down my forehead, dripping into my eyes and then to my mouth. Groaning inwardly, I maintained my posture, and didn't move a muscle. Finally, my patience was rewarded when, quite surprisingly, the window opened. From the outside. Blinking in confusion, I almost stood up. It was probably just the wind, how else could the window have opened? I almost laughed out loud until I saw the shadow of a figure begin to descend into the room.

As a rush of adrenaline entered my system, I returned to my crouching position, my fingers beginning to sweat. I watched the figure descend into the room silently, and I took in everything I could before I initiated..whatever it was I was going to initiate. The man, I could make that out but nothing else, was obviously attached to something, otherwise how else could he have gotten in? Unless of course he was a magician. Brushing the thought aside I decided to pretend that he was most definitely not a mage, for if he was I stood no chance. As his feet touched the ground, he glanced around the room. As his eyes passed over where I was hiding I tensed, intending to pounce on him, and yet his head continued on its swivel and didn't miss a beat. Relaxing my muscles only slightly, I continued watching him. I was very curious as to why he was here, although I knew it must have been a malicious motive, otherwise why come in through the window. So, he was most definitely not a friend of Jerome's. But then who was he working for? Surely not the Hive. They knew I was on this assignment. Now my curiosity was definitely perked. I contemplated confronting him, and finding out who he was working for. He wasn't as tall as some of the men I had faced, and I was confident enough that I could take him. But I brushed the thought aside. First, I needed to know what he was doing, and why he was here.

I watched with expert eyes as he advanced toward the desk, his feet making no noise at all. As he got closer he produced a small, thin object and proceeded to tinker with the desk. At the sound of a click I swore under my breath. He had gotten the lock. One of the desks swung open and he pulled out a handful of papers and began reading through them. He sifted through quickly, barely glancing at each page he saw. Pissed now, I allowed my mind to work on overtime, frantically trying to think of what to do. I could attack him, but my odds were unknown. I could try to talk and compromise with him, but who knew his motives. Or I could try to run away. Third option out. An idea came to me then, but the riskiness of it was great. However, I was almost out of ideas, and this would have to work.

Craning my neck upward, I made sure that the small stool was still there, and then I got into action. Turning very slowly, I inched my hand up, to the first rim on the bookcase behind me. Once I was comfortable with the grip, I pulled myself upward, resting my feet on the small stool next to me. Everything was done quietly, and I was proud of what I had accomplished. Next however, was the hard part. I reached my hands up again, to the next sill, and repeated the process, climbing up ever so slowly. Finally, when I was about halfway up I turned, pressing my body against the bookcase. I glanced down and saw the man still standing there, totally focused on the multiple papers he was skimming through. Allowing myself to breathe, I tried figuring out what I was going to do next. Only one idea came to mind, and that was to jump on the mysterious figure, and try to subdue him. The noise however would be loud, and surely I would get caught. Getting caught would ruin the plan greatly. One other idea came to mind, and it seemed the best one. I'd have to go with it.

"Hey. You there. Don't move, or I'll press down on the little trigger than belongs to the crossbow in my hands. Which happens to be pointing to the nape of your neck." I spoke quietly, but loud enough that the man could understand. My voice was steady, and I watched as slowly the man dropped the papers he was holding. His head moved briefly, and very slightly, side to side, like he was looking for me. I smiled at his predicament. I was the hidden one. The man raised his hands and I spoke again, "Good boy. Now put your hands-" and I broke off as the man darted behind the desk, dropping to the ground. "Shit," I murmured softly as I prepared to pounce.



I would like to give you permission to power play Fae in your next post, for the fight scene and I hope I gave you enough things to go off of, I can fix anything you don't like!

[Angmor]

Teiris was almost disappointed when the desk lock provided only slightly more of a challenge than the window had. He could now understand the satisfaction that could be found here; the strained need for hurry warring against the slow precision of the pick and probe, followed by the sweet sound of the lock clicking obligingly open. Now he finally understood the glowing terms Rion used to describe the process; the way that some could make their living this way. It wasn't always about the money, it was about the thrill Teiris knew however that this would not be him. His objective was not one of pleasure, but of duty. Of a life that needed ending. In that regard, no locked door could stand in his way.
Click
Even so, Teiris allowed himself a moment of satisfaction before he opened the desk cabinet. Half a second, no longer. Then it was back to work.

Teiris blew out a breath, glancing over the rows of neatly folded parchment inside. It seemed that, despite his obviously character faults, Jerome was a meticulously record keeper. That made Teiris' job easier in some ways, harder in others. it meant that he did not have to sift through hundreds of disorganized pieces of information, but it also meant that piece that he needed would not be labeled 'most secret' in red ink. He would have to start from scratch. Still, one with his abilities was well suited for the job. He decided he would start from the most recent, and work his ways backward. Selecting the entry for the previous week, he removed the ledger and set it on a clear portion of desk, beginning to hurriedly rifle through the parchment inside. He took time only to let his eyes flicker across the words for barely a second before taking in the next, allowing his eidetic memory to sift through the details even as he read. Every few pages he would pause a few moments to let his conscious mind catch up, quickly absorbing the data into something useful. It was a surreal experience. He had gotten the idea shortly after he had been given this assignment, but this was the first time he had tried it. It was interesting, and... slightly disturbing. He shook off the feeling.
Time to face facts, he told himself, You may not like it, but you have this ability now. While you might hate it, it has its uses. Time you stopped wishing it away and started finding out what those uses are.

And... nothing. Nothing that would connect Jerome to the embezzlement in that stack. Time for another...
"Hey, you there," Called a soft, clear voice from behind him, sending his heart straight into his mouth. "Don't move, or I'll press down on the little trigger that belongs to the crossbow in my hands. Which happens to be pointing to the nape of your neck."
On a flood of adrenaline, Teiris felt as if all his thoughts and emotions were draining away, leaving his mind brilliantly clear. The first thing he was aware of was certainty. He was certain, beyond doubt, that the person behind him did not have a crossbow. He didn't consciously know how he knew, but such a fact was currently irrelevant. What was relevant that he was still in danger, as it did not rule out the possibility of a slower, less accurate ranged weapon. He needed distance, and he needed cover.

To buy himself time, Teiris complied with the Voice's demands, slowly setting down the papers he'd been holding. Raising his empty hands in the air, he let his eyes sweep the room, gauging the distances in more detail than his first glance. The closest and most obvious was the desk he was standing behind. Not as much distance as he would have liked, but about as sturdy as he could ask for...
"Good boy," Said the voice. "Now put your hands..."
As Teiris had learned a thousand times, a person talking was a person distracted. That distraction bought him the precious quarter of a second he needed to surge around the desk and drop to a crouch, eclipsing himself behind it. He was safe for now.

Feeling his heart pounding in his ears, he considered his position and his options. He decided it was fairly safe to say his operation was compromised, but by who? By the lack of the words 'halt' and 'thief' in his sentences, the voice clearly did not belong to a guard. The only other real possibility was another thief. Jerome had plenty of enemies, after all, and it rally wasn't that far-fetched. It was an astounding coincidence that they would try to burgle the same house on the same night, but stranger things had happened. Either way, he decided he did not know enough of the context to create a course of action, and so decided that negotiation would be the best tactic. He cleared his throat. "Look friend, there is really no need for much unpleasantness. Perhaps we can help each other..."
Teiris jumped in surprise as a heavy body landed on the desk above him with a pronounced thunk, sending him scrambling upright. A shadowy figure was standing on the desk. Backlit as it was by the moonlight, Teiris could make out no details except for one very relevant one:
The glint of a slim knife.
Just then, the figure pounced, sailing toward him with the knife raised...

Without transition, Teiris reverted to his training. Without thought, he knocked the figure's knife-arm aside with his left forearm, feeling the barest flash of pain as the blade inflicted a superficial cut on his shoulder. Disengaging, he dodged aside, gaining two feet of distance while he pawed after the dagger sheathed on the back of his belt... His opponent recovered almost instantly, throwing a series of controlled slashes toward his neck and torso forcing him to dodge backward, abandoning thought of drawing his own weapon. Riggs had been training him for this. unarmed against a blade was the the end of the world, he merely had to wait for his assailant to make a mistake.
And hope that it happened before he ran out of room.
Even as he thought it, he saw the figure over-commit to one their strikes, throwing them just slightly off-center. Teiris instantly caught the figure's wrist with his left hand, bringing his right foot up in a low kick. He foot connected with something meaty, doubling the figure over with a satisfying oomph of escaping breath. Hoping to end the fight quickly, Teiris dropped into a swift crouch, throwing out a newly practiced ankle-sweep in a bid to trip his opponent before they could recover.

[/blockquote]

[zkjt]

My choices at this time were quite limited. Obviously, I couldn’t get my job done with the mysterious figure in the room, and I had already revealed myself which cancelled out any hope I had of somehow sneaking the intel, and then managing to escape. Once the man ducked down from view, behind the desk, I really went into overdrive, wiping my palms on my exposed thighs, and tucking my hair behind my ears. In fact, it was only while I pondered what to do that I fully realized the state I was in. I hadn’t brought any extra clothes besides the thin, racy lingerie I normally wore, and a light jacket that covered some things up, but did nothing to warm me. I had tight-fitting slippers on, with surprisingly good grip. I was in no position to be engaging in this type of “activity” and I regretted not bringing my dark, form-fitting leather armor which I was used to fighting in; I felt naked without it.

Realizing I was slowly running out of time, I decided to do the most logical thing I could think of: dive off the bookcase and hope for the best. Standing to my full, formidable height, I closed my eyes, slowing my breath. Sweat rolled off my palms and dripped to the edge of the bookcase, where my feet rested. After inhaling deeply, I prepared to jump, when a voice broke the silence that had lasted in the room since my rather embarrassing attempt at a lie, “Look friend, there is really no need for much unpleasantness. Perhaps we can help each other..." his voice, I was right about the thief being male, surprised me, and I lurched forward, my feet slipping on the sweat that had accumulated on the bookcase. I held my balance for only a second, before toppling down.

My flight down lasted only a few seconds, but to my mind it lasted a minute. With an unusual burst of clarity, I was able to perceive my situation, and in the short time span I had, I was able to brace myself, and shift my position so that when I landed, it wouldn’t be as painful. Painful it was, but I knew it could have been worse. I hadn’t fallen too far, but I hadn’t exactly prepared for my jump, and the fall had been awkward. I had landed on the wooden desk, which survived my fall, and landed on my right hip. Pain surged through me, but a rush of adrenaline overtook the emotion and focused my mind. I was next to the thief. I stood as soon as I had my bearings, and turned so that I was facing the opposite of the window. A figure rose, facing me. With knife in hand, and wasting no time, I leaped at him.

I grew angry quick. My first thrust toward him had nicked the thief’s left shoulder, drawing blood, though at the same time the thief had lashed out with his hand, hitting mine. The pain had surprised me, it hadn’t seemed like a very powerful hit, but as the fight progressed it became clear that this was no simple man, and that he had practice, and skill. I went on the offensive almost immediately, taking advantage of him not having a weapon. Despite my controlled slashes and thrusts, the thief was able to dodge them all, sliding out of the way and managing to remain unhurt. He didn’t seem to be tiring at all, and the thought was slowly filling me with an unpleasant feeling, besides my anger. This man was professional and I was in for an interesting couple of minutes. I tried keeping my head, but my lack of damage done to him was irritating me, and I was overly aggressive. My dagger-thrust went too far, and my legs were too far apart for me to recover quick enough. A hand reached out as soon as my mistake was made, wrapping around my wrist, just as something hard hit me square in the chest. I leaned back, letting out a loud oomph, as the air was knocked out of me. Although I would have liked to sit down and rest, like we did when I was training with Astrid, I didn’t have the time. Knowing I had to act quick, I lashed out with my left hand, the one not possessing the knife, just as the thief went low to try and trip me. My left hand connected with the man’s right shoulder, and from the sound that he let out I was sure that it hurt. However now I was off balance, and as the man’s foot connected with my ankles, I toppled over. I collapsed onto the thief, raising my fists to try and pummel his chest. His hands shot out, grabbing both my wrists and twisting them. Letting out an enraged shriek, I brought my head down hard, and connected with his. As pain surged through me, the hands on my wrists lessened and the man let out a groan. I stood up, pressing both my hands against my head to try and stop the pulsing pain I was experiencing. Due to the fact the man hadn’t gotten up yet, I was sure the pain was mutual. If I had been completely coherent, I would have started attacking him, but my knife was nowhere to be found, and I was in too much pain to go back into the fight. I leaned against the nearest bookshelf, rubbing my wrist and grimacing. I had several bumps that would pop up soon, and the pain was slowly increasing in its intensity. I needed to get out of here quick.

I stood up to my full height, flexing my head and cracking my neck, when I noticed the thief standing in front of me. He held my knife in his right hand, and his left hand was in a fist. I backed up again, pressing my full weight against the bookshelf. I raised my hands, in a surrender gesture, and the man paused, studying me. When I didn’t react, he dropped my knife, letting out a ragged breath of air. He pressed his right hand to his left shoulder, and turned his head toward me. I couldn’t see his eyes, but I imagined he was looking at my body, as if finally realizing I was a girl. I smiled cockily and winked. “Never fought with a girl that could kick your ass?” I asked, trying to put some stability into my voice. Though we were still enemies, it seemed we were both after Jerome, and the enemy of your enemy is your friend right? My right slipper was off my foot, and my jacket had disappeared as well, leaving me in just a very short dressing gown. Feeling embarrassed about it suddenly, I wrapped my arms around my shoulders, trying to hide myself. It made me feel inferior to this man, and inferior was something I was not.

[Angmor]

At the instant it was too late, Teiris realized his mistake. Just because he had put his opponent's weapon out of play for a few seconds, he had forgotten that the figure's other hand was still perfectly free to move. The irony was, he had taken advantage of that forgetfulness several times in his own career, feinting with his knife before striking with his bare fist. It would appear that Riggs had been right. All it took was one dumb mistake to change the entire landscape of a fight.

The fist slammed into the side of his chest, sending a jolt of pain through him and knocking him off balance. Even as his back hit the floor, he completed his own maneuver; locking one leg behind his opponent's knees and making a hard scissor motion with the other. The figure fell, but not the way he had been expecting, instead toppling straight onto him. He swore under his breath, fending off a blow with his forearm as he tried to gain control of his opponent's flailing arms. This was precisely the situation Riggs had warned him about.
"All fights go to ground eventually. Just the rules of gravity. Personally, I hate that. It becomes very slippery then, all grab and counter-grab, locks, slips, or, more commonly just chaos. Very difficult to learn. Noisy, difficult to finish cleanly. That's why I far prefer to finish it quickly, before it even reaches that point."
Luckily, Riggs had begun teaching him a few holds, just for such times when going to ground was unavoidable. Finally, Teiris managed to seize his opponent's wrists, twisting them up and back. His opponent cried out in pain. Teiris shifted his weight, trying to roll sideways and get on top of the situation...
Crack
There was an explosion of white light behind his eyes, blinding him to all else but the pain traveling through him in waves. Teiris hated the helplessness of these moments. The times when his mind screamed for him to act when his body wasn't listening.
Get up. Get up. Get up!
With agonizing slowness, the white light receded to a dull ringing in his ears. Even before he fully recovered, he started scrambling to his feet, his eyes working frantically to pinpoint his opponent. He did not immediately spot what he was looking for, but he found something nearly as reassuring: The knife is assailant had been using, lying on the floor next to him. He snatched it up, bringing it to guard as he stood to his feet, ready for the next attack.

Oddly enough, the attack didn't come. He found his opponent a second later, leaning against one of the bookshelves, either winded or pretending to be. Something about his aspect had changed, but Teiris was too busy waiting for the flash of a backup weapon to figure out what. Catching sight of him, the figure's shoulders fell, hands rising in the universal I give up gesture. Teiris kept his guard, ready for a trick. He had used the fake surrender several times himself, and those who fell for it...
The thought trailed off as he finally realized what was bothering him. Somewhere along the line, the figure had lost its dark covering, and combined with a beam of moonlight from the window, one fact was finally apparent;
His assailant was a woman.
Obviously so. Considering she was wearing nothing besides a small, filmy nightgown that showed off her shapely legs and breasts, she was doing little to hide the fact. A round, darkly exotic face winked coyly at him, revealing a smile that practically glowed in the dark.
"Never fought a girl that could kick your ass?" She said, her voice a sultry whisper that he could easily picture thawing a block of ice.
It finally clicked. This was Jerome's 'midnight snack'.

Teiris finally allowed himself to relax, dropping the woman's knife and surrendering to the urge to massage his throbbing forehead. He could now be reasonably certain there would be no trick. The woman would have to find a very creative place to hide another weapon in that outfit.
"I have, actually," He answered breathlessly, surrendering to an amused smile. "Under very similar circumstances, in fact."
With the adrenaline of the past minute rapidly draining away, he could not resist a chuckle as he tried to catch his breath. This situation was just so similar to his last visit to Carvala, it was almost as if fate was having a good laugh at his expense. "Honestly. You... you people. What is it with the women in this town?"
Glancing back at her, it seemed that her exposed state had finally dawned on her as she crossed her arms across her chest. With a sigh, Teiris removed his jacket, offering it to her in mimic of the gesture he'd used to offer Cyprus the same. "Oh... Here. Why can't you people keep your clotheson when you try to kill me? I really don't understand it."

[/blockquote]

[zkjt]

A heavy weariness was beginning to settle itself into my limbs. My arms felt heavy, and my legs trembled slightly. I hadn’t actually been in a fight in a while, and my specialization of work didn’t require too much strenuous effort on my part. The thief also looked tired, though he appeared to be in much better shape than me. Now that things had slowed down, I was finally able to actually examine the man in front of me. He was taller than me, but instead of possessing the thick, broad body type I was used to seeing, he had a lean frame. He was on the thinner side, but from what I could make out by the faint moonlight coming in through the window, corded muscle ran through his arms and legs. He had a handsome face, masculine and comely. Maybe I could use my charm on this one…

“I have actually, under very similar circumstances in fact,” A faint smile lit up his features, as he remembered some unknown memory. I didn’t answer him, but rather continued to stare, trying to look intimidating in some sort of feminine way. I was very curious now, seeing as how he had done something similar to our little tussle. I was just about to ask him, when he spoke up. “Honestly. You…you people. What is it about the women of Carvala?” He sighed in exasperation. I smiled here, revealing my perfectly straightened teeth. “We’re vicious, I’ll say that much” I whispered coyly. He gave me an unreadable look, and then looked down at my body, noticing my hands attempting to cover myself up. He paused for a second, before he began taking off his jacket. I tensed, expecting him to pull some sort of weapon out, but he did nothing of the sort, and rather held the jacket out to me. I blinked, confused for a split second, before realizing that he was offering me the jacket. "Oh... Here. Why can't you people keep your clothes on when you try to kill me? I really don't understand it." I gave him a glare and didn’t take the jacket right away. “Maybe if I wasn’t assaulted by a streetrat, I would still have my jacket,” I growled at him. He didn’t seem to have anything to say to that, and since he was still holding out the jacket for me, I took it. It was warm, and I wrapped it around myself, freeing my hands up. After the jacket was on, he answered me. “You attacked me first,” Simple, with a flat voice. Eh..that was true wasn’t it. I said nothing, and rather decided to try and change the subject.

“So what are you even doing here?” I doubted he would answer the question, but it was necessary that I got the information. I would need to get information to my higher-ups fast, because if there was some sort of competition with the Hive, they would need to know. Before he could answer, I leaned forward, standing up by myself. I began walking toward the desk, waiting to see if the thief would try and stop me. I noticed that he tensed up, but a hand didn’t shoot out to stop me, and he said nothing. I allowed a hand to brush his arm as I walked by, and let out a little giggle. He muttered something under his breath, but it was so quiet I couldn’t make out any of the words. He still hadn’t answered me, so I decided to ask him a different question. “Fine then. What’s your name?” I was now behind the desk, where papers were everywhere on the ground around the desk, and on the desk itself. A couple of the drawers were open, and I began filtering through them, examining all the papers briefly. When I looked up, I saw the thief looking right at me, an unreadable look on his face. I gifted him with an ear-to-ear grin, which he didn’t reciprocate. “I’m Teiris. And you?” his voice was hard, and I noticed he was studying my hands, and the papers I currently had in them. “Call me Fae, love” I sighed, throwing a useless paper to the side. Out of the corner of my eye I could see Teiris advancing toward me, apparently non-threatening, but I didn’t let my guard down, anticipating him to hit me, or do something of the sort. However, he came to a stop to my left, and also began shifting through papers, scanning and discarding them two times as fast as I was.Sensing my gaze, Teiris opened his mouth to say something when a loud shout emanated from out in the hall. “Uh Oh. Look’s like my little friend Simon was discovered,” I pouted.