Closed Getaway (Leila)

[Wrenmae]

Spring 1 , 513 AV Late Evening

A shadow stole along the alleyways between the docks and the city. Waveguards moved in patrols along the main street, seeking movement in the shadows as the hunt for Trente continued. Early today, the famed Martial Association leader struck down the hero Waveguard Wrenmae. Regrettably, try as they had to search the bay for his body, it had been claimed by Laviku.

In truth, Trente was likely hiding low and seeking to escape the city, much like Wren. Framing the swordsman and faking his death had been hard work, more the effort of tag-teaming with his familiar than anything else. Now he had Trente's sword at his side and his steel-cloth cloak on his shoulders.

His adopted mother had been left, tears touching the corners of her eyes and Wrenmae's farewells in her mind. At least she didn't assume he was dead. But the comforting warmth the ring on his finger emitted reminded him she was well...perhaps away from him, but well.

At least he hadn't brought ruin to everyone.

Flattening himself against a wall, two Waveguards moved by him. The flash of their uniforms in the darkness was the breath of warning before lightning struck his plans of anonymity. He had no will to kill them, but would if he needed to.

Zan remained quiet, regaining the djed spent on the morning's performance. He'd been speculatively silent through most of it...save for the lines Wrenmae had him speak.

After the two had passed, Wrenmae slipped from the wall and slid around the side of the building. There was a ship bound to sail in the morning that he would find passage on...under a different face, of course, but it would spirit him away from the city he'd brought so low in the past season. That enough would serve Vayt's purpose.

"You!" A voice rang out as he made to turn another corner, he froze, "Halt! Halt and identify yourself!"

Cursing himself inwardly at his lack of patience, Wrenmae's face bubbled into the countenance of Trente's, and he put a hand onto his blade. Rapier wounds, it would be the only way. He needed to leave a trail, if any, to lead them to Trente's wild slaughter in the city. Though he bore the swordsman no ill will now, it needed to be done.

He needed to be dead...or else his plans would be ruined.

"You want none of this," He said without turning, hearing the footsteps of the two Waveguards, "Trust me. Let me go."

The first Waveguard circled around him, pointing his blade at Wrenmae as his partner closed in from behind. "It's Trente." the soldier said, fishing for the whistle in his pocket. "Stay still and don't force us to kill you."

Zan.

No death.

You take the dagger then.

Fine.

The flask at Wren's belt flashed, and suddenly two Trente's stood back to back. Zan reached to Wren's side and drew his dagger and Wren drew his rapier, leaping at the guard who fumbled backwards, dropping his whistle and bringing his shield up to desperately parry the seeking point of the blade.

Zan moved with far more grace, reversing his dagger grip and stepping forward swiftly. The Waveguard swung his sword across at him, more the wild swing of fear than anything calculated. Zan caught the blade with his own and slid it, allowing the sword to pass up and over his head, taking another step into range and delivering a blow to the guard's head, sending him sprawling backward.

Without relenting, Zan ducked under another side-swing, brought the pommel of the dagger up into the mans temple, pivoting behind him and bringing his other arm back around his neck, dropping the Waveguard to the ground. His sword clattered and Zan waited for him to groggily try to get to his feet...at least before he swung the dagger again, pommel first and knocked the man unconscious.

Meanwhile, Wren had countered with Trente's rapier, putting his guard on the defensive. Again and again the edge of the blade met the steel of the shield, displacing it. But all his opponent could do was defend, so when his back hit stone, Wrenmae pressed in, pressing his blade against the shield and swinging his fist across the space between them to crush the guard's nose. Falling back with a cry, the guard, swung a foot beneath him, catching Wrenmae and sending him tumbling backward.

Both men rolled across the ground and got to their feet warily. The Waveguard drew his own rapier and charged in thrusting hard for Wren's midriff. The hypnotist took his blade and smacked it against the sword, sending the intended point wildly wide, leaping back to put distance between the two.

When his opponent charged again, Wren swung the trailing end of his cloak out around the blade, trapping it. He forced it downward with a screech of steel, the unnatural alchemized robe holding up against the simple steel.

Weaponless, the guard desperately brought up his shield, but Wrenmae had angled his blade to come the moment the sword dropped from his hand, impaling his opponent neatly.

Gasping, the Waveguard fell to his knees and without letting him speak, Wren swiped the rapier across his throat, wiping the blade on the back of his uniform.

"I said no killing!" Zan hissed, whirling on Wren, dagger in hand.

"And then what?" Wren asked, his chest heaving, "Let them go and tell the tale of Trente and his magic? How long will our story hold up then?"

"I..."

"Didn't think," Wren growled, sheathing the blade with a clang, "We can't have them seeking us, can we? No more hunting, no more bumbling. You want to save lives? Don't give them a reason to send people after us...or we'll be killing for a long time yet."

"What happened to you?" Zan muttered quietly, handing back the dagger, "You used to be so-"

"Naive?"

"Hopeful."

Wren took the blade and sheathed it, holding out a hand for Zan as he vanished into water, swept into Wren's palm, and became a flask again.

"Time changes all things," Wren muttered to the flask, "We make the best of what we have and we move forward. Right now, forward is out of this damn city and toward Ravok. I'd thank you to remember your life force is tied to mine."

Slipping the bottle into his belt, Wrenmae took a breath, drew his dagger, and killed the unconscious waveguard...a swift stroke across his throat. He left both as they were, bleeding out in the night.

They were witnesses.

[Leila]

Leila was heading home after her first night of work at World's End Grotto, carrying a small basket of food. The cook had given her a meal to take with her, a token of congratulations for getting the job. He was a friend of her father's and was how she had gotten the work, and he was looking out for her. After all, the poor girl had just moved out of her parents' home, and was staking a claim on her own. He wished her the best of luck. So he'd made a basket for when she finished her first shift, full of bread, fried cod, a small bowl of chowder, and his specialty fried dough topped in sugar. He doubt the little woman could eat it all in one setting, but he'd heard she'd gotten a dog, so leftovers wouldn't be a problem. Leila was nervous walking home so early in the morning by herself, but there was a surprising amount of Wave Guards out. Leila kept her head down, basket hanging from her hands, a few new gold mizas in her pocket. She wish Shaco was with her at least, or papa. A lady like her really shouldn't be out this late. But at least her first day was easy enough. Cleaning, pouring, and entertaining wasn't so hard. It was fun, but it wasn't fulfilling in the least. She wondered if she could open a shop like papa's. It was a nice thought, but it was just a dream. Someone like her could never pull that off. She was tap tapping along, turning at an intersection, only a few chimes from her home now. Then she heard a sound she didn't recognize, a metallic clang she thought. She took a left when she'd normally go straight, and stopped dead in her tracks. She saw men fighting down the road. Leila recognized the Wave Guard uniform, and even though she was no combatant, she could tell they were losing. Then she saw crimson splash from one's throat, illuminated in the moonlight. Her face paled, and she froze, unable to scream, unable to run. Then she saw a man disappear, and another step over a Wave Guard and kill him as well. Then her body began to shake, to quiver, violently. She'd never seen so much blood, never seen anyone die before. She... she couldn't handle this. And then the basket fell from her trembling arms, a small clattering on the road. And Leila knew that she'd been found out. So she turned, and ran. She was in full on panic, not wanting to end up like those bleeding men in the road. And even though she was close to her new house, her instincts began steering her body toward her parents' house, a good deal further up West Street. And even though Leila had seen so many Wave Guards earlier, it as now as if there were none. And Leila never even thought to scream.

[Wrenmae]

There was a clatter, solitary notes that shattered the silence following death. Wren turned sharply in his path, transfixed with the figure of a woman lit against the guttering street lamps of Zeltiva. She looked young, terrified, the basket she had carried rolled away from her with the force of its fall. She opened her mouth, but no sound came out.

A timeless moment of serenity...revelation and darkness.

She turned and ran.

Wrenmae tore the cloak from his back and then his shirt, gathering up both beneath one arm as the skin beneath his shoulder blades twisted and spat forth bone. Rising daggers rained from his skin, stiffened, lengthened, became wings. The black Zith wings carried him aloft after the girl had vanished from site, but she came into focus again when the city was beneath him...tearing down a deserted street. Wrenmae followed her from above, beating wings cleaving the night as quietly as a Zith's passage. He had been too far to catch her on foot and this was the only way to ensure she didn't raise alarm.

Down he swooped, landing hard in front of her and drawing a dagger with his free hand and menacing her with it. As he stood there, the wings in his back furled out, wide and terrifying in the dark before warping back into his back bit by bit. As the wings receded, the mage cracked his neck and grimaced.

"So..." he said, his voice the only sound in the night save her breathing, "You saw, did you?"

[Eldritch]

Wrenmae :

Skills
Rapier +1

Lores
-Eliminating the witnesses

Notes :

Not much to award here, sorry to see it got cut short.

If you have any comments/questions/concerns about your grade please PM me and we will work something out.

Keep on writing!