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- Speculative Fiction, Fantasy, Sci-fi, Horror
Co-post with @Dovahkiin
"I also remember you owe me a ring."
The same low voice came from behind her, and she turned her head enough to shoot Nuit a half-grin, half-glare. "I've got no idea what you're talking about," Keevah replied, her expression a wordless warning for him to silence himself, though mischief still glinted in her eyes. The memory replayed itself seemingly on its own volition: sneaking into the woman's pristine house, Keevah's bobby pin slipping through the floorboards with a muttered curse, and the duo's mad dash for the nearest exit, scurrying out of a window faster than a couple of cats who were caught in the cream. Unable to hold her serious demeanor, she broke into a devious smile. With a shake of her head, she turned away from her old friend, but her grin melted when Jeanna approached Nuit with a demand for an apology. Oh no, oh no, oh no oh no oh no. She bit on the inside of her cheek and swiped up her goblet, peering between the two as she attempted to take a sip. It was empty. Her eyes latched onto Nuit, and they bore a silent plea. Please, for the love of all that's holy, don't start a fight.
She should have anticipated his snappy remark, but what she truly could not have foreseen was Jeanna's willingness to move on from the confrontation after a child servant had delivered her news. It was an admirable quality. Keevah's gaze lingered on the boy servant a moment, and a tinge of sorrow softened her features. He seemed too young to be invested in the court, his timid nature almost bizarre in a place filled with drinking nobles. Like a lamb among wolves, she thought, then, brows furrowing, forced her attention to the table. There wasn't a point in getting worked up over it -- for all she knew, child servants could have been common in Gyrus. Still, she wondered how the boy got here.
"Oi! Come here. I wanna see Benedict's new thief and the pretty lass," bellowed a man with mead in hand.
She shot a look to Nuit as she stood, beginning to make her way over to the red-faced mead-holder. "He seems the jolly sort," she remarked, casting her old friend a glance.
Impressive, so the woman did know how to swallow down her own words like a bitter pill. If anyone could see his face, they may have noticed the eye raise. People like that tend to rub him the wrong. Perhaps because it all came to the question, why people thought they were special.
They come straight out of the womb. Birthed red and with so much meaning. Even when your five your taught very clearly, there's some meaning to your life somehow. Someway, there is a meaning. And the things that surrounded you were a miracle.
People tended to always believe they were the main characters in the story. Forgetting that everyone else too saw themselves as their own main characters in their story. And him, he opt to burn the whole entire book.
He opt to not play a part in it. Perhaps he was an obstacle. A brick wall. Maybe he was a question, that they had no answer to. Not a villain. Not a hero. But an obstacle nonetheless. He would have pulled more attention to Keevah, when one of the nobles called them over.
He knew them, maybe not personally, but names always slipped through the cracks of the court. Like children passing notes through the slits of door. Aapo and Udolf, and from the looks of it Aapo was already shit faced. While Udolf pleaded with the man that enough was enough.
Though he wondered if Aapo knew how loud he was being, when he made comments about him being a thief. Silly man. He was not a thief. He was a blade. He was the reaper's scythe.
He turned to Keeva, there was a smirk that played on his face, he leaned in so those two could not hear, "Want to play a game? Want to try and get away with stealing something from his pockets while he pissing wasted?" he practically chuckled in her ear. While leaning more up and addressing the men.
"Steal," Nuit addressed Aapo, "I assure you sir. Everything I own is borrowed. Call it, renting it before buying it." he chuckled with a smile. While grabbing another glass of wine, "To what do we owe the address."
"I also remember you owe me a ring."
The same low voice came from behind her, and she turned her head enough to shoot Nuit a half-grin, half-glare. "I've got no idea what you're talking about," Keevah replied, her expression a wordless warning for him to silence himself, though mischief still glinted in her eyes. The memory replayed itself seemingly on its own volition: sneaking into the woman's pristine house, Keevah's bobby pin slipping through the floorboards with a muttered curse, and the duo's mad dash for the nearest exit, scurrying out of a window faster than a couple of cats who were caught in the cream. Unable to hold her serious demeanor, she broke into a devious smile. With a shake of her head, she turned away from her old friend, but her grin melted when Jeanna approached Nuit with a demand for an apology. Oh no, oh no, oh no oh no oh no. She bit on the inside of her cheek and swiped up her goblet, peering between the two as she attempted to take a sip. It was empty. Her eyes latched onto Nuit, and they bore a silent plea. Please, for the love of all that's holy, don't start a fight.
She should have anticipated his snappy remark, but what she truly could not have foreseen was Jeanna's willingness to move on from the confrontation after a child servant had delivered her news. It was an admirable quality. Keevah's gaze lingered on the boy servant a moment, and a tinge of sorrow softened her features. He seemed too young to be invested in the court, his timid nature almost bizarre in a place filled with drinking nobles. Like a lamb among wolves, she thought, then, brows furrowing, forced her attention to the table. There wasn't a point in getting worked up over it -- for all she knew, child servants could have been common in Gyrus. Still, she wondered how the boy got here.
"Oi! Come here. I wanna see Benedict's new thief and the pretty lass," bellowed a man with mead in hand.
She shot a look to Nuit as she stood, beginning to make her way over to the red-faced mead-holder. "He seems the jolly sort," she remarked, casting her old friend a glance.
Impressive, so the woman did know how to swallow down her own words like a bitter pill. If anyone could see his face, they may have noticed the eye raise. People like that tend to rub him the wrong. Perhaps because it all came to the question, why people thought they were special.
They come straight out of the womb. Birthed red and with so much meaning. Even when your five your taught very clearly, there's some meaning to your life somehow. Someway, there is a meaning. And the things that surrounded you were a miracle.
People tended to always believe they were the main characters in the story. Forgetting that everyone else too saw themselves as their own main characters in their story. And him, he opt to burn the whole entire book.
He opt to not play a part in it. Perhaps he was an obstacle. A brick wall. Maybe he was a question, that they had no answer to. Not a villain. Not a hero. But an obstacle nonetheless. He would have pulled more attention to Keevah, when one of the nobles called them over.
He knew them, maybe not personally, but names always slipped through the cracks of the court. Like children passing notes through the slits of door. Aapo and Udolf, and from the looks of it Aapo was already shit faced. While Udolf pleaded with the man that enough was enough.
Though he wondered if Aapo knew how loud he was being, when he made comments about him being a thief. Silly man. He was not a thief. He was a blade. He was the reaper's scythe.
He turned to Keeva, there was a smirk that played on his face, he leaned in so those two could not hear, "Want to play a game? Want to try and get away with stealing something from his pockets while he pissing wasted?" he practically chuckled in her ear. While leaning more up and addressing the men.
"Steal," Nuit addressed Aapo, "I assure you sir. Everything I own is borrowed. Call it, renting it before buying it." he chuckled with a smile. While grabbing another glass of wine, "To what do we owe the address."