Closed -=Secrecy=- [Inari & Rowan]

[Sypha Kai]

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Timestamp: 34th of Fall, 513 AV
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Location: Midnight Market
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-A slow, rolling wave of thunder rumbled across the early evening sky, the
deep sound threatening the citizens of Kenash with the chance of showers.
Sypha Kai tilted his head back at the ominous roar that traveled within
the swarm of clouds, casting his dark eyes up toward the thick gloom.
Though the threat of moisture was ever present, not a drop had fallen
upon the creeping Mercenary since he had begun his recent undertaking.
After a few seconds of observing the somber heavens, Sypha returned his
caliginous stare to the finely dressed man some fifty steps infront of him.
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-His right upper hand, the only one of four that wasn't covered in leather,
slowly rose to his uncovered visage as he quietly watched from beside a
vendor's booth. Slender digits touched the few dyed strands of thinly
braided hair that rested on the curve of his cheek, gently guiding their
bead decorated length behind a single ear. The rest of his brown and
red hair was an unkept mess atop his head, wildly moving about his
clean shaven semblance in the soft wind. The Eypharian usually kept his
face shrouded from the view of these filthy Humans, but this evening
he would need to blend in with them.
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-The prowling swordsman, having had the pleasure of following the
dark haired individual for most of the day, walked with light footfalls
around the stationary booth to get a better view. The man he was tailing
was one of the Morealis boys, the more slender of the three, Rowan Morealis.
Sypha didn't know much about him or anyone from that particular
Dynasty, for he had yet to seek any employment from them. Any knowledge
he had obtained about them was from drunken rumors and quiet whisperings.
None of that information held any weight, nor was any of it helpful to his
current situation.
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-Much of the day had been uneventful with the cloaked Eypharian keeping
a respectful distance from the richly attired Morealis member. Sypha Kai had
collected a mental list of the locations and people Rowan had visited since
entering the small city, storing the information until he could meet up with
his Lorak employer. The one that had hired him was becoming a frequent
customer to the Mercenary's abundant services, which Sypha Kai considered
to be a foot in the door. The more undertakings he could sucessfully accomplish
for her, the better his chances were in creating a lasting bond. If he was to
investigate his Mother's enslavement, he needed information from deep within
the Families. Inari, his employer, could provide that for him in the Lorak Dynasty.
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-There was a bit of activity in the Midnight Market, dispite the constant threat of
being rained on. The multitude of boothes that had sprung up about the large
plaza were equiped to deal with the wet weather, many having stretched and tied
tarps overhead. The Underworld thrived here during the evening hours and a bit
of rain wouldn't stop them from conducting their shadey business. Sypha Kai
knew enough to be careful here, for he frequented this Market often and lived near
the edge of it. The name -Lash- had touched his ears many a visit, a name that you
only spoke aloud if you knew what you were talking about. This was Lasher Radacke's
territory, meaning the swordsman knew he had eyes upon him while at the same time,
he had his spying sight upon Rowan's movements.
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-The Morealis son was on the move once more, leaving one of the tarp covered boothes
where something had moments before caught his attention. Snake skin sandals touched
quietly upon cobblestone walkway as Sypha slowly followed, leaving the edge of the
Market where the portable boothes were allowed to set up. They were walking deeper into
plaza now where the permanent shops were located on either side of the street. Thin channels
filled with calm water sectioned off the Market, offering the citizens of Kenash a beautiful
sight as they tended to their shopping needs. Sypha kept his distance, playing the role of a
curious customer as he picked through the products of various vendors. His predatory vision
was shifting from each salesman, to their goods, to Rowan, trying to keep up with him while
remaining inconspicuous.
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[Inari Lorak]

Fall, Day 34, 513 AV A hooded figure sat, hunched, on the edge of a low wall surrounding several willowy trees. Behind her, the water rippled slightly as a strong breeze wound its way through the streets and crowds, bringing with it a scent of wet things to come. A rumble of thunder followed shortly after, and if anyone had been paying attention, they would have noticed the figure tense, her body gone rigid and shoulders drawn closer together. Inari hated storms. More than stifling humidity, more than watching slaves being beaten, more than being lied to. They made her think about things she'd rather not think about it, feel things that should have long been buried. The Lorak forced herself to relax, taking a breath and easing her shoulders back down. She was still wringing her gloves furiously, but her thick, woolen cloak hid the motion from watchful eyes. Already, she could make out one or two beady-eyed men and women posing as hawkers, scanning the crowd for...well, who even really knew? Potential slaves? Targets for theft? A personal vendetta? Not that it mattered, she mused. So many people disappeared in the black market that it had simply become the norm. As a member of the elite, she was more or less protected, but such thoughts did nothing if not add yet another layer atop an already towering stack of reasons to feel on edge tonight. Desperate to distract herself, Inari stopped strangling her gloves and put her palm against the left pocket of her rough skirts. In it held a neatly written letter stating all she had learned thus far of Sypha's mother, including everything from mere speculations and rumors to a few nuggets of hard facts. Lorak slaves were more content than most others, so they spoke freely of what they knew to the adolescent slavegirl of Lorana's young, obscure niece without fear of repercussions. Apparently, there had been whispers for quite some time of one of the lords or ladies keeping an exotic, female slave. It was said she remained guarded like a priceless treasure, for no one has managed to catch even a single glimpse of this favored individual. Certainly, a personal slave would be seen now and then with her master or mistress, but this one...well, Inari could understand why even someone as competent as an Eypharian mercenary was having difficulty getting anything of substance on this matter. Honestly, whoever was hiding his mother must be on a level of obsession so far beyond clinical help that they couldn't be anything but deranged. Another gust of wind blew by, ruffling her hair and cloak. Inari bit her lip, trying not to sneeze as the rush of air sent wisps of fake hairs sticking to her nose. She slipped out a hand to swipe them away, the fresh freeborn mark flashing into view as she patted down the errant strands. Feeling more and more nervous as their rendezvous approached, Inari had taken great pains to disguise herself: roughing up her curls, clipping on a false ponytail, and adding as much dirt and grime over her face and hair as she could possibly stand. She also took up her regular imitation of the lower classes, which she was forced to study anytime she had to look upon a slave--beaten posture, hungry eyes, somber scowl. So many differences between the rich and poor... Unsure of how much more anxiety she could take, Inari started wringing her gloves again, getting the distinct impression she would be needing new ones by the end of the night.

[Rowan Morealis]

Rowan spent much of his early morning behind the closed doors of his shop, quietly toiling within his inner sanctum at his craft. He found that the process of Magecrafting calmed him. The process was a delicate one, requiring him to put aside the troubles of his own life and focus only on the Djed pathways. The dagger on the pedestal glittered in the fire cast by the light in the lab. So far, he had laid down the basic groundwork, striking the dagger with gold and silver handles, disrupting the original pathway of Djed so he could relay the network making up the weapon.

There was something cathartic about beating the imperfections of ordinary out of the weapon and carving new purpose into it. He felt the hand of his father perpetually on his own back, reigning hammerblows of his own to change his youngest for whatever purpose the twisted former Patriarch had deigned. Perhaps that was why he had turned to this. With no children of his own to visit frustration, he took his rage out on the items he was given, swinging with enough force to make sparks fly (would the hammer force be actually striking the object rather than the djed of it).

He abandoned the fine tuning silver hammer in favor of the rough copper, striking with the imprecise blows of a novice blacksmith, built more to destroy the original configuration of the item's interior purpose than anything else. So long as it remained on the pedestal, the work he did would remain, frozen, ever expecting.

But then, he couldn't afford to work all night.

Inari was depending on him.

He held up the hammer one more time, prepared to bring it down, and then set it aside, rubbing his forehead. Why was she interrupting this work? Pacing across the room to his desk, he pushed aside djed theory and sat, massaging his temples. Ever since the night of the play with Eyasia, he'd been feeling something he wasn't ordinarily party to.

Guilt.

Admittedly, he snapped a little roughly at the girl...perhaps a bit harsher than he intended. Ever since his father had taken him out to the Killing fields, his entire world was in a spiral of unfocused rage and guilt.

Damn him. Damn him.

Smashing both fists on the table, Rowan stood up sharply and left his laboratory, throwing on the clothes he had Inari had agreed on. He paused outside the door of his shop to rub some dirt into his face...not enough to appear slovenly, but enough to convey a hard road traveled. Since he was small, he'd seen similar dust in the faces of the Freeborn in the city. Traveler skin, he'd been told, dust from all corners of Mizahar along for the ride.

He didn't spend long browsing shops, he only went through as a means to calm down. Somehow the displays simply ran together into a continuous mess of color and prices. He bought nothing, said nothing of worth to anyone, and allowed himself the peace of mind to simply daze across the Dry Plaza till nightfall.

So even if he had seen Sypha tailing him, he wouldn't have cared...or given it thought. The rich were always followed in some way. One family or another looking for a bit of juicy gossip to drop at the next social occasion. A hundred bloody wars won and lost in the space of an evening...but the only bodies were reputations, and the only blades were sharp-edged words.


So it was that Rowan inadvertantly disguised himself much in the way of the lower class. His forward and bowed shoulders, heavy with his own thoughts, could easily be mistaken for perceived inadequacy...and the vacancy of his expression left no room for the swift alacrity the upper class were rumored to have in matters of mind.

He wandered the midnight market without remembering how, or when he came there. Only the promise he'd made kept his feet in a straight line and his eyes from settling on any place too long to be mistaken as interest.

Inari told him he might not recognize her, and he supposed that would be the point. As he had yet to truly apologize, he wasn't sure how angry she still was. That indebted sense of urgency and repayment bugged him, stuck with him, permeated his blank state with momentary stabs of awkward expectation or sorrow.

Inari, Inari, Inari...always about the precocious girl...headstrong and powerful, but consistently underestimated by her family.

Then, he supposed, friends were much like that.

A fixture on the mind.


There was a woman in the place Inari had told him to meet, and to her credit, she'd done a great job disguising herself. Alternatively, Rowan felt ashamed at his lack of forethought with heavier and more concealing clothing...but then, he also didn't expect them to get anywhere tonight. It was always hard to tell whether they were playing a game or being serious.

He took a seat beside her, instinctively smiling.

Like every Morealis, he was a puppet to his decorum, if nothing else. All signs of the ghost that he was before vanished in that smile, and he was himself again.

Even if his mind wasn't fully there.

"Darling," he said openly, leaning over to give her a peck on the cheek, much in the way he'd seen the long married to have done before, "What did I say about wandering away? Did you see something that caught you eye? You know we have a budget to keep."

[Sypha Kai]

-Sypha felt naked without the soft touch of cloth shrouding his semblance, but there were
times, especially when trailing someone, when a bright crimson turban was too noticable. The
process of blending in with Humanity hadn't been the easiest task, but the Eypharian felt he
was doing an ok job at it. His bladed cloak was extremely important when it came to this, for
its thick fabric did well to hide his lower pair arms. All he had to do was keep his second pair
of appendages down at his sides where his leather coated hands kept a gentle grip upon two
sown-in cloth handles. He knew enough Common to hold fluid conversations, but it was his
rich accent that he needed more work with. When taking away these two components that made
him such an awesome being, you got what looked and sounded like a mere Human. Once he
was able to perfect his Human facade, it would make his revenge in Kenash that much easier.

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-Brown shaded eyes peered over the curve of a customer's shoulder as he haggled with a
vendor over the price of a partially broken item, watching Rowan take a seat next to Sypha's
contact to the Lorak Dynasty. He blinked, moistening his drying eyes so that he could clearly
focus on the two now sitting upon the low wall some fourty paces away. A quick kiss was delivered
to the side of Inari's appealing, dirt coated visage and then the conversating began. The spying
Mercenary couldn't hear anything that was being said, it wasn't his business to know at this point
anyway. He had a specific task to accomplish, which he had tirelessly performed throughout the
day using merely his vision. All substancial information, the majority being locations visited, that
he thought was worth Inari knowing was jotted down upon a piece of parchment she had given him
the day prior. This time his services were performed not for money, but as a trade for information.

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-As soon as the gentleman infront of him finalized his purchase and stepped away from the vendor,
Sypha moved to a new location within the plaza. His pace was languid, like the group of citizens he
decided to walk directly behind, so as to blend in with the flow of Human traffic. Fourty paces
slowly became twenty before he broke away from the wandering market shoppers. He was kneeling
now, in the midst of teenage boys gambling on a game of die rolling. The position he chose allowed
him continueous access to the two on the nearby wall, even though he was pretending to be
apart of this particular group of lads. The cocky boys looked upon the intruder without much fear,
actually the expression on many of their faces was quite menacing. Before any of them could break
his cover with angry words, Sypha generously produced a handful of silver and copper mizas. The
mixture of rimmed coins5 Silver & 10 Copper Mizas were gently tossed in the center of their huddle, quickly changing their foul
mood to that of acceptance.
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-One of the young men snatched the three worn die from the cobblestone street and extended his
arm, offering Sypha the next roll. The Eypharian gently took the bone crafted die with his branded
hand and began to work them between closing digits. His attention remained on his dirty little
employer and the equally filthy man that had come to see her. Inari knew that the swordsman was
somewhere in the marketplace, watching her, as well as Dimeer Morealis's son. All she had to do was
give the signal they had previously spoken of and Sypha would detach himself from the background
and heed her call. Attentive brown pools watched with practiced patience while his ungloved hand
continued to unconsciously manuever the bone die within the warmth of his closed palm. Perhaps he
was too patient, for the anxious teens began to scowl at the long overdue turn.
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-"Hey guy... you want to play or what?," Sypha was asked by the same boy that had first given him
the three die. The question brought the spying swordsman back from his focused gazing, allowing those
dark voids to slip away from Inari's small, nervous movements. Was there more to this encounter than
just the spying? Why was she fidgeting so much? A flick of his wrist was given as his slender hand
opened, the extention of his lithe digits allowing the three die to tumble from his gilded palm. They rolled
for a brief moment with each boy's eyes widening in anticipation. Sypha's own eyes were already straying
back toward the low built barrier surrounding the thin trees. He did not see what his roll had produced,
but from the joyous reaction of the teenagers it would seem as if he had lost his mizas.
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[Inari Lorak]

Though her nerves were frayed almost beyond repair by the time Rowan made his usual, fashionably late appearance, she hardly flinched when she heard his familiar footsteps approach. Nor when his lean, disguised form sat down beside her without warning, as though that was the absolute norm. Not even when his dingy face drew close and planted a small peck on her equally dingy cheek, which distantly reminded her of another time, another place. Perhaps it was because she knew him too well; nothing he did was really a surprise anymore. Especially not after that last performance. "No, dear, certainly nothing we could afford," she answered dryly, then slid her hand into Rowan's as though out of habit, conveniently checking to see if the Freeborn mark was still in place. It was. Good. Her hands disappeared back behind the folds of her cloak, stowing away the much abused pair of gloves before she managed to wring them to shreds. At the moment, Inari couldn't decide which emotion held more sway: her indignation at his recent behavior, or her relief that he hadn't abandoned the plan entirely. To his credit, he did seem to be at least trying to play the part, even if his mind was likely leagues and leagues away again, as it always was. Gods only knew what was going on in that thick skull of his. Perhaps, once she and Sypha exchanged reports at the end of the mission, there would be some shred of insight into the Morealis's troubles. Not, of course, that it overly mattered. As soon as she thought of Sypha, the Lorak had to resist the urge to dart a glance behind her and search for his familiar figure in the crowd. What must he think of their dreadful charade so far? She hoped it was entertaining, at least, for all the unsavory acting it put her through. For a moment, she considered informing Rowan of the mercenary's presence, then thought better of it. No point in ruining a perfectly healthy upperhand. "Feeling thirsty tonight, darling? It's been a long day," she drawled, sounding more bored than concerned. "How about we stop by for a bit, hm?" Inari tried desperately not to cringe at all these foreign words of civility and endearment, however crude they were in actuality. Plus, she didn't relish the idea of having to drink more than a sip of that slop they called ale, but it wasn't as though they had much of a choice. After countless hours spent trying to eavesdrop on and weasel out some information regarding the Rujaro, she had only just managed to trick a careless slave into tipping her off about this particular haunt--a hole in the wall, open only late at night, with a grungy exterior that made the Lorak's skin crawl just thinking about it. At least it made sense, what with the general lawlessness that went on in such places. Inari felt more grateful than ever for Sypha's presence as her mind flitted through such thoughts. She would attempt to count Rowan in as a source of reliability, if he didn't already possess such a boundless appetite for just this very sort of place. Well, that would hopefully work in their favor anyhow. All they needed was a lead, and that would be more than she ever expected. Inari gulped quietly as she awaited her partner's answer, ignoring the foreboding, uneasy flip-flopping of her stomach and resisting the urge to pull out her gloves again.