Closed Sudden Death (Ignotus Everto)

[Synthira]

Synthira set up camp for the night. She climbed into her sleeping bag, hoping to dispel some of the Zeltivan winter cold. She was nearly asleep when she heard footsteps and voices through the dark. Cautiously tugging on her boots and cloak, she stepped outside the shelter and made her way toward the sounds. As she approached the voices became elevated in pitch and louder. Even in the dim light of the city’s outskirts, two figures could be made out. The first was tall and broad-shouldered, hunched slightly. The other was very small, probably a young child. From her hiding place Synthira caught the sharp smell of kelp beer. “I promise you’ll have your money as soon as I can get it.” “Not soon enough, my boy.” The taller figure approached the other, and there was a cry of pain. Synthira made her way closer, the faces becoming clearer. Fire built in her chest as the man slapped the boy across the face. The boy cried out. The konti’s heart pounded, and time slowed. Synthira fingered the handle of the Suvai at her side. “I need the money.” “I told you, I don’t have it!” The boy raised his hands in defense, blocking a couple of the blows thrown at him. He even lashed out himself, causing his assailant to bark a slew of insults at him. Synthira remained hidden, frozen to the ground she stood upon. Should she leave, knowing that the child could easily be killed? Or interfere, knowing that she could end up making things worse? It shouldn’t have been a decision at all. I should know what to do. It could be too late if I ponder too long. She looked up to find that the two were still scrapping, and the man knocked the boy to the ground. A long dagger flashed silver in his hand. He raised it to the boy’s throat. That was it. Synthira unsheathed her Suvai and ran at the man, leaping from the side. She was not heavy or strong enough to fully knock him over, but she startled him enough that the boy dodged his blow. Enraged, the man whipped her off his back, and looked her over quickly. He laughed- a guttural and throaty sound. “Just a little girl, aren’t we?” She pressed the blade of her mother’s weapon into his fleshy palm, and he abruptly let go. He drew his knife once more, beady eyes glinting. Their weapons clashed, and she parried as best she could. The dark man had the advantage as far as strength went, and Synthira was disarmed after only a few seconds. She kicked and hit to the best of her ability, but the man was more experienced than she. He threw her to the ground, pinning her there. His stale breath was hot on her face, his dark eyes full of rage. He kicked her sharply in the side several times, then grunted in disgust and turned to face the boy. Synthira groaned and rolled to her knees. The man walked slowly toward the boy, weapon in hand. Despite the pain, the Konti called out to the man. “Face me, and not the child. He’s hardly a worthy opponent.” “Oh, and you are?” The man laughed, “I thought you’d given up.” “Not until you slice my throat.” She retorted, stomach turning as the man’s grin widened. He lunged, but she dodged to the side quickly enough to get him off balance. She waited for him to right himself, thrusting her Suvai in his face. He tried to knock the blade out of the way, but she moved too quickly. A shallow line of blood appeared on his cheek. He parried and thrusted with such force that Synthira began to realize the gravity of the situation. One cut along her bicep. Then another, near her knee. A third, this one deeper, stretching across the length of her right hip. Damn. She was losing. She murmured a quick prayer under her breath and stood up, trying to ignore the pain of her wounds. She placed her hand to her side, and upon drawing it back realized how hard she was really bleeding. The man chuckled as she fell forward, swatting her away easily. Once more they clashed, back and forth and back and forth they slashed. With a strategically placed kick, Synthira was on the offensive. They were terribly close, and she saw her opening. She thrust her Suvai into the man’s stomach, twisting before letting go. The man fell back, eyes wide with shock. Synthira, too, was surprised. She backed away, staring at him for what felt like an eternity. Blood was everywhere: on her hands, her clothes, the ground. She turned towards the boy. “Run, kid. Don’t tell anyone what you saw.” The boy nodded eyes wide with gratitude and relief as well as fear. The Konti cleaned her weapon on her skirt, standing rooted to the ground. She knew herself better to check the man for a pulse. She also knew she had to leave – but where to go? She edged her way toward the city. Why, oh, why did she have to leave peaceful little Mura? This never would have happened there. If anyone saw her, they’d have questions. But her wounds surely wouldn’t heal on their own. She leaned against the building, closing her eyes. You’ve really gotten yourself in trouble this time, Synthira.

[Ignotus Everto]

The boy did not listen. He scrambled out of the alley, leaving crimson footprints glistening in the indigo light Leth cast on the cobblestone, searching for a Wave Guard, a sailor, a teacher, someone! In what was, to him, an incredible stroke of luck, someone was there. A small, scrawny figure shrouded in black, strolling nonchalantly along the edge of East Street whilst whistling a nursery rhyme. Of course, it wasn't luck for Ignotus. The Nuit never slept, and he made a point of wandering the city at night, especially its less reputable sections. One always met such fascinating people there.

The light tapping of little feet caught the wizard's attention, though he was in no rush to turn around. The sound was too faint to belong to a grown man, and as such, Ignotus decided it couldn't pose too much of a danger. As such, the tyke was able to reach him and tug at the hem of his cloak before the wizard turned around fully. While coming face-to-face with a corpse was normally disturbing, this particular corpse was rather well known, especially to the little ones. "Iggy!" the boy squeaked, trying futilely to drag the undead by his cloak to the scene of the murder. "Come quick! A white lady stabbed someone!"

Coming from the mouth of an adult, the nickname would have caused Ignotus to bristle, but the young one could be forgiven. Besides, the "white lady" he was speaking of had caught his attention. It wasn't difficult to deduce who, or rather what, she was. The Nuit was more than willing to be led then. A Konti, stabbing someone? Now that was something new. If this one was anything like Nira'lia, she would also have something very, very useful to offer him. The last lady of the White Isle could read pasts. What could this one do?

Of course, Synthira was long gone by the time they returned to the alley where the murder took place, and after a helpless look at Ignotus, the child took off.
The Hypnotist was left to play detective, if he wanted anything out of this night. For a few ticks, the wizard looked not outward, but in, focusing on the sizable sea of Djed in his stomach and drawing a measure of it up into his hand. Droplets of azure Res pooled in his palm before rising to hover three inches above it. Once he had a globule the size of a chicken's egg, a quick splaying of the fingers caused its surface to burst into flames.

The fire vaporized the darkness around Ignotus, throwing the curves and cracks of the alley into relief and casting jagged shadows across the scene. The wizard smiled. Now he could investigate properly.

Ignotus didn't even need to examine the mugger to know he was dead. Blood had already begun to pool around him, and a macabre stain on the wall in addition to the bleeding hole told him it was not a peaceful death.

However, the rust-colored liquid revealed much more than that. In addition to the itty bitty prints that showed the path of the boy's retreat, there was a much larger set leading in the opposite direction. The corner of the Nuit's mouth curled as he began to follow the trail of blood. Whatever the motive was for the murder, either the one who committed the deed, or the deed itself, was impulsive. Any fool would have known to erase their tracks after all, or so Ignotus' logic went.

He did not have to go far to find his killer, either. Synthira's body practically glowed under the amber were light, and she was conveniently unaware of her surroundings. While it would have been easy to cut off her escape routes, or to simply terrify her into remaining still, Ignotus had other plans for the little murderer.

"Never been to East Street before?" a slow, cadenced voice inquired. Should Synthira show fear, Ignotus would say, "Relax. I'm no guard."
While, in the past, he would have had to leave it at that and hope for the best, the Hypnotist could do better than that now. While his sphere of influence was larger than most men's, it still had to compete. Now, however, he could simply overwhelm the Konti's completely and force calm on her. Of course, to say it took a lot out of him was an understatement, but that was the price of power, no? Even so, he would much rather save his Djed than expend it. After all, it was him he was spending.

[Synthira]

Synthira leaned against the building, clutching at her side. The guards would be after her soon, and then it would be over. She whimpered uselessly, making a point of not looking down. So much blood… Where had the youngster gotten off to now? She prayed that he was safe, looking to the heavens in disbelief. The pain was nearly overwhelming, and she knew that if the guards didn’t kill her, the wounds would. The only sound the Konti could hear was her own heartbeat, a rapid and steady drum filling her senses. She wanted to surrender, to sink to her knees, but she could not. I’ve failed you, goddess. I have done wrong. And mother, I have failed you as well. Oh, but if you could see me now…what shame it would bring you. Hot tears spilled down her cheeks, and she stared at her hands. You killed a man, Synthira. You are a murderer. The words echoed in her head until she thought she could stand it no longer. “Never been to East Street before?” A voice called out casually. She whipped around to see a gaunt and dark figure. She felt her heart rise into her throat, and then he spoke again. “Relax. I’m no guard.” Not a guard, perhaps, but that didn’t mean he presented no threat. Without thinking, her hand moved to the blade of her Suvai, recoiling as she felt the warmth it had retained. Enough of that for tonight. His face could not exactly be described as kind, but he had not yet moved to injure her, so she relaxed slightly. For a brief moment she thought of what a sight she must be: tangled curls fallen out of their plait, clothes and hands bloodstained, eyes wild and afraid. His voice, however, was calming, and she tried to slow her breaths. Though she had learned how to react to many situations in her brief time with her mother, she had no idea how to proceed in this one. She could not introduce herself, as she still did not know if this stranger was friend or foe. Likewise, though she was desperate, she could not ask for help. That would mean revealing her current situation, and that was a dangerous business. The man knows eyes led her to believe he knew something, but she could not be too careful. Was it the child who told? She prayed under her breath, and the man looked at her with a quizzical brow. The air was cold, and so were her thoughts. The word monster resounded in her mind, and she shook her head. “It was justified,” the Konti growled. Her eyes widened as she realized she had spoken the words out loud. The man did not seem entirely surprised. He was strange, she thought, in a way she could not place. The blood did not seem to concern him in any way, and he looked with focused eyes. It was almost unnerving, being watched… but not knowing what else there was to be done, Synthira remained silent. Waiting. Whether or not he was aware of it, this man held her fate. If he so much as cried ‘murderer’, she would be dead. But if he were to help her… Though he did not seem unkind, she sensed that his help would not come without cost. He seemed like a logical man, and after all, it was only fair. but what could I possibly possess that would be of value to such a person? What could be equivalent to my life? She did not want to think of such things. She looked to the ground, averting his gaze. She had entered the game, and was now trapped in it. This time it was his turn to choose his movement.

[Ignotus Everto]

It was fair fortune that the man who was standing before Synthira was a Nuit, and as such had the reflexes of a mentally disabled bullfrog. Otherwise, he might have reacted to her reaching for her Suvai. As it was, in the tick it took for his body to register the potential attack, it had already passed.

The Konti in front of him was the murderer- of that there could be no doubt. And given the power such a secret gave him, and the gifts of her people, Ignotus had no intention of letting her die. Yet she wouldn't be any use to him at all, or very pliable, if she was wound up in a shell of pain and fear. Fortunately, this was a problem with a solution.

For Ignotus Everto could hold human (and Konti) perception in the palm of his hand when he chose, and at this moment, he was choosing to erase Synthira's fear. "I care not for a dead mugger. There are more important things to attend to."

A gloved hand extended out to Synthira, and Ignotus asked in a rather grandfatherly tone, "Are you hurt?"
With those words, the wizard's Djed poured forth, pitching away the Konti's anxiety like windswept leaves. In its place was installed a strong sense of relief, that quickly subsided into a vague feeling of security. With luck, she would not question a stranger's ability to make her feel at ease, and allow herself to be helped up.

[Synthira]

Synthira didn’t know why, but she trusted the man. She did not perceive him as a threat, and she regretted thinking of hurting him. The adrenaline was preventing her from forming coherent thoughts. Why was he being so terribly kind? His eyes reflected intelligence, and he obviously knew what she had done. Still he made no move to threaten her. "I care not for a dead mugger. There are more important things to attend to." Here, he paused and extended his hand. "Are you hurt?" She gladly accepted the offer. As her hand met his, a face flashed in her mind. It was a young man, tall and lean. He was fair haired and had a prominently square jaw. So many emotions met her at once, but all weak as though they had been repressed. Most notable among them was confusion, but mixed among it was a strange sort of attachment. Most of all was obligation, as though she were supposed to feel a certain way but simply couldn’t. The konti shook her head as if that would clear away the muddled feelings. She felt calmer now, forgetting the gravity of her crimes. “Yes, I am. But not as seriously as I thought. I have a wound on my arm and another just below my knee, though this is the one that concerns me.” She removed her hand from her hip, shifting so that he could see the cut. It was still bleeding, and rather heavily at that. Somehow, she knew the stranger would help her if he could.

[Ignotus Everto]

Ignotus grimaced at the sight of the bleeding wound, but not out of sympathy. Rather, he just found an open wound distasteful. Of course, he wasn't stupid enough to vocalize said distaste. Instead, he pulled the Konti to her feet with a groan and no small amount of effort, saying "All right. Let's get you to the infermary."


The Nuit hadn't even possessed blood to bleed with for thirty years, and so was very, very poorly equipped to treat any sort of wound. Fortunately, he was not the only denizen of Zeltiva.

[Synthira]

The man helped her to her feet, groaning as he did so. He seemed rather weak for a grown man, as if helping her was a great difficulty. Either that, or I’ve gained some weight. This made her no less grateful for the assistance, and she thought on the subject no further. "All right. Let's get you to the infirmary." He grumbled. Her intestines twisted into knots. If anyone knew that she had… If anyone knew what she’d done, things would get ugly quickly. She didn’t know much about Zeltivan crime and punishment, as she’d been too busy with her own affairs. But in any civilized place, murder was not taken lightly. Knowing she deserved whatever fate lie before her did not help her feel any better. “Wh-what are you going to t-t-tell them?” He seemed very nice, and was helping her despite her offenses. But to Synthira it felt as though the word ‘guilty’ were branded onto her skin, that wherever she went people would know she was a monster. If they asked her how she’d gotten injured, what would she say? Would this stranger lie for her? There was no reason to. He owed her nothing. The konti frantically searched for a story, some bit of fiction that she could use when the healers asked. Instead, her mind replayed the last few chimes in slow motion, over and over. She was not nervous or anxious anymore, but nothing could remove the sense of guilt. Were she alone, she would have been overcome with the emotion, but she had to stay sensible. Or, at the very least, she had to retain her composure. The stranger was kind enough to help her as is, and she was sure that sniveling was not endearing.