Closed Shady Dealings (Brandon)

[Zeran]

46th Day of Spring, 514 AV The rain droplets patted against the windows like fingers tapped against a table top, rhythmically drumming against the fine glasswork to their own tempo. They raced downwards against one another, snaking down the surface and joining with partners found along the way, under the influence of the same force that kept feet on the floor. It was a pastime with very little meaning behind it, but a source of a small amount of amusement nonetheless. Especially when your chosen droplet reached the wooden framework at the bottom first. The rain outside leisurely fell, catching the last few rays of light Syna had to offer before she relinquished her duty to Leth, as it had done multiple times throughout the day before taking another rest. Little more than two bells since Dusk Rest, the sun had hidden itself from the sights of the Star City’s residents and would soon take the lingering columns of light with it. The skyglass rooftops of Lhavit were already aglow with amber in their transition from day to night. An astral arm passed through the glass, unaware of its presence as much as the droplets that clung and raced across it, and cupped the rain outside in a hand invisible to onlookers. A small collection of water began to hang in the air, rippling with each new addition to the previously freefalling drops. Just as slowly as they filled the palm that interrupted their descent, rivulets found a ledge to start throwing themselves over towards their original destination, and then the entire collection fell as if their platform had evaporated from beneath. Had the rain been heavier than a shower, or something else had been making noise in his room, Zeran might not have heard the handle of the door working its way free of its catch to allow admittance to the Lady of the estate. Even without looking, Zeran knew who his visitor was as no other person would let themselves in without as much as a knock than Elena Lariat. “Enjoying yourself there, dear?” Elena asked as she walked into the room with as much confidence as Zintila through the Twuele. Zeran recalled his arm from outside and it returned to serve as it would for any other - after a few chimes of wriggling back into the lump of skin and bone that hung at Zeran’s side. “Even more so now that you are here, m’lady,” he said in earnest. As much as Lady Lariat was his employer, she was by no means unpleasant company or difficult to get along with. The simple rule was that she required attention on her, and that was easy to follow when she met with her companions individually. The amount of attention was immaterial, as long as she had all that was available when she wanted it. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” “Would you believe me if I said it was anything other than a job?” “Perhaps, if I didn’t know you any better.” Elena took her place on the divan, her favoured place to hold conversations from, and gently let herself lean back in towards the material’s comfort holding a scroll close to her chest. Why she favoured that particular piece of furniture over the table and chairs not even five strides from it was anybody’s guess. The most anyone could decide was that Elena had the option of lying down. Her eyes drew to a close as she made herself comfortable. Zeran took his seat from the table. “I have a job,” Elena started, “that requires a more… delicate approach. Better still, an invisible one.” She shifted on the divan, wriggling around, as her eyes remained shut all the while. “I have an acquaintance that seems to be working his way up the political ladder at a respectable pace. It is possible he could even reach the major political player’s circle within the next few years if he continues to work hard at it. My problem with him is not his rate of success, but his constant excuses for why he is unable to keep his end of the deals we have made in return for my assistance.” Whilst it was known she was an eccentric woman, Elena Lariat was far from being considered a push-over. Zeran bit the inside of his cheek as he realised the extent of what this acquaintance of Lady Elena’s had done. She had not gotten her position with Lhavit’s society by simply accepting what she had been given. Elena had fought for what she had; making deals based on what each party could do for the other. Deals made on mutual benefits. Just as she did the utmost to keep her end of the deal, she expected no less from the other. “Still waiting on where I fit into your plans,” Zeran said. Both the lady’s eyes slowly opened, converging on him with a smile. “Fortunately, the Gods didn’t favour my dear Marco Wright with the best of memories.” Elena pulled herself upright, stretching her arms above her head as if the chime or two lay down had her fully rested. How nice that she had been able to adapt to Lhavit’s unusual sleeping patterns. “Poor dear has to write down almost everything he has planned. The book he writes everything in goes just about wherever he goes. Plans, appointments, secrets, everything goes in there.” “Still waiting for me to crop up, Lady Elena.” “I want you to get me that book.” She spoke with such nonchalance it was disturbing, as if stealing a man’s clothes whilst he wore them was easy. When Zeran said nothing, Elena continued. “Your projection gives you an advantage. You can grab the book without being directly in his line of sight, though I would suggest being a bit more subtle than a simple snatch-and-run. I want Marco to know who is in possession of his precious book, and that I won’t do anything detrimental to his business so long as he meets his ends to our agreements.” Blackmail seemed to have a greater hold over people than any hired thug’s beating could. It was the looming possibility that something bad could happen, should a failure to do something make itself known. Whilst it did not have a hold over everyone to quite the same degree, politics always seemed to have a cloaked dagger lurking somewhere in the future. “So all I’m doing is watching and waiting for a time when his book becomes as easy to pick as an apple? Sounds simple enough.” A slight laugh escaped his mouth at the thought of this being nothing more than a game. “It won’t be as simple as sitting in a tree and waiting, if that’s what you were thinking, dear.” That was exactly what he was thinking. Zeran said nothing as he watched the droplets on the window continue to fall. If he kept quiet long enough, maybe Lady Elena wouldn’t find out she had unknowingly complicated his plans. This didn’t sound like a quick and simple job anymore. Even his projection had its limitations. If this Marco always had it with him, and he wasn’t allowed to grab and run, that was an obstacle. Similarly, even if Marco left it on a table in his house, the book would have a bone to pick with the wall Zeran’s arm was passing through. Mulling it over under Elena’s amused expression, Zeran asked, “How long do I have and how do I know who this Marco Wright is?” “As long as it takes,” Elena said, standing up and approaching him. “If I know I’m going to get what I want, I can wait for it.” She offered her hand to him, indicating that he should stand. It was nothing more than courtesy to take her offered hand, even if she wasn’t going to help Zeran up. Elena’s hand left his own as he was firmly on his feet, joined by the other, cradling his face and pulling him to look at her. “As for what he looks like, he looks something like this.” Zeran shivered at the flow of djed pulsing from Elena. A sixth sense even his auristics could offer him, though different people would react in different ways to the detection of magic. In that instance, Elena Lariat was replaced by another’s face. A round face with full cheeks, covered by a thick expanse of wiry hair of a beard that could house a bird, stared back at him. A flat nose, curving with the shape of his head, claimed a more-than-reasonable area of his face, pushing two big, dark eyes slightly further up his forehead than normal. Marco looked left, then right, as if checking himself in a mirror. As the hands fell away from his face, the last thing Zeran saw, that he couldn’t from close up, was the well-maintained, slicked-back hair. Despite having the face that put him on the heavy said, Elena gave the impression he cared for his image. Threatening the release of material within his book would do poorly for that image. Marco disappeared, and Elena appeared once more in his place. Zeran smiled at the Lady’s little magic trick. Hallucinations were still out of his reach for the moment, and Elena worked them like a musician works the strings of his instrument. “Marco Wright lives on the Sharai peak, getting in the favours of many of Lhavit’s farmers. Some people will be able to help you out with figuring his routine, but don’t make it blatantly obvious you’re planning something, dear.” The scroll Elena held when she first entered the room found its way into Zeran’s hands. “Should you forget what Marco looks like, here is another hallucination to jog your memory.” Zeran found himself out in the rain moments after Elena Lariat’s final words to him. Words of caution and dependence were the last things she had to offer after the scroll. Because words of doubt and recklessness will get me in trouble faster than if slapping a Shinya with his wife’s blouse… That might be a bit of an exaggeration. The rain had a refreshing coolness to it as it ran down his face as it had the windows. Zeran had been eager to start as soon as possible, getting the job out of the way. The coating of rain would hopefully keep a larger number of people off the streets for a time. If Tanroa could offer him anything, he'd be grateful for it to be enough time to figure out what it was he exactly planned on doing.

[Brandon Blackwing]

For the don’t- know- how- many-th time the thief found himself in front of the large building that was in the possession of someone rich no doubt, he could tell from the many skyglass balconies that connected each of the three floors. A huge building that must have a lot of treasure inside, jewels or kina or maybe even objects that held more value than a diamond. Not that he thought he would be able to pull off a heist in that building, he could get in and maybe sneak around and locate the valuables without being noticed, but he doubted he would get out, traps of magical nature would be found on his way, the closer he got to the treasure, the more he would run into. The prospect was annoying, as if someone was teasing him with a coin pouch but holding it just out of his reach. One of the reasons he did not like mages, besides fear and the Shinya being users of magic too.

Of course he knew who owned the place, this was one of the most famous places of the Starry city, the estate of Elena Lariat, a woman of fickle nature and of great power, or so he had heard. Well, not only was she a mage which was known or her talent, but she also held a lot of influence in the higher ranks of the city and her pouch was overflowing with Kina, money she had spent to pay for the construction of her abode, the balconies of skyglass that had started to glow in the darkened world, the heavens cloaked with grey blankets of clouds that shed tears, unending and soaking everyone to the bone. The rattling sound of the droplets touching down on the surface had been the background sound for a while now, and while it should be cosy inside, the bat did not even think about leaving the spot he had claimed.

Not that it was that special, except the fact that it was one of the few places dry, covered by a roof, the floor of a balcony to be exact. It was quite convenient that most Lhavitian houses had them, it sheltered the ones who were unfortunate enough to be out in this weather. However, the thief did not consider himself unlucky, but not the opposite either. Neutral might be the best description for him right now, that and doubtful. Doubting whether to go back home or not, to make plans for entering the estate he was looking at or not, to even consider a robbery from Elena Lariat … From what he had heard she was like a bloodhound if it came to repaying people and being repaid. But so was he, however not that extreme. Though, when he was stolen from he would make sure he got his revenge, through any means necessary most of the time, but not always. He too was fickle, sometimes determined to extract vengeance and sometimes just brushing the idea aside … the latter was really rare though.

Actually, the bat wasn’t sure what he was doing here, was he waiting for something or someone? Was he just daydreaming? Or was he making plans for the future, doing a bit of surveillance and gathering intel already, in case he would need it? Truly, he did not know, he had been walking when caught in the rain and searched for shelter. And when he had found it, his gaze had met the estate, attracted by the expensive looking façade perhaps? Daydreaming, that was maybe the best way to describe what he was doing, lost in a stream of thoughts that dragged him along, jumping from one subject to another. Most of the time with visuals, images in his mind’s eye as it were, hallucinations and fantasies, but they were so tempting. As a thief he was naturally attracted to shiny things and other objects of great worth, coins or gems, or other stuff. If he hadn’t known better, he would have believed he was a Magpie Kelvic, maybe in a past life …

Maybe, just maybe he should go take a peek inside, not much, just go take a look to sate his curiosity. He needn’t go far, just the hall was enough, but the inside he had to see, the marvels of a house as huge as this one. It would come in handy for future reference he was sure, just a peek was all it would take … that was not much, not something that would get him in trouble now would it? They wouldn’t even know, opening the door was all it took and then he would leave. No big deal. Or was it? Were there traps located on the door too? Traps that would explode in his face if a person that was not supposed to be there tried to enter? That couldn’t be right, that would make it difficult for herself too, deactivating the trap every time she had a visitor or guest. Or was being a guest enough to be considered ‘supposed to be there’? Ah, what the hell, there are risks to any and all things I do, I will never get to enter there if I let this uncertainty shackle me now!

A step towards the building was taken, boot splashing water gathered in a small puddle upwards, soaking his pants. The annoying feeling of heavy clothing was something he had to endure now, his decision was made, he would be heading for the estate, he would see the inside, maybe there was something in that hallway that was worth stealing! Rain fell down on his person as soon as he took another step forward, soaked up by his clothing in no time and before he would notice they would be heavy too, clinging to his body and draining his body warmth and dryness. But it would not stop him, the water could make its puny attempt at halting his approach, but it would not work. It wasn’t pouring, just drizzling a bit, but do not underestimate the soaking power of drizzle!

With every step he took however, his determination was put to the test, each time a little part was being nibbled away, and before he had even reached the middle of the street or the beaten trail that led to the front door, it was fragile enough to be shattered by the slightest hint of something being off. His own doubts about traps and other things that could go wrong –like people entering the hall by coincidence just when he was present- had been undermining it long before he had even taken the first step. And then when he saw the doors swing open and a man appear, Brandon decided it was time to dismiss the ‘take a look inside’ idea. With a wide turn he bended to the left, and started walking in that direction for a couple of ticks, pretending that had been his plan all along on the outside, but inside he cursed vigorously.

Then a thought struck him like a bolt of lightening from the sky : if someone left the estate, didn’t that mean that they were rich people themselves? It is highly unlikely that an upper class person would invite a low class person in, but someone of the same class … A grin spread across his face, his failure forgotten already. This person had become his target now, a target fit for stalking, a target that would lead him to their house, show him the place were the treasures were kept or if it came to it he could just try to pickpocket the guy. If the opportunity presented itself, the essence of Brandon’s life basically. The thief had stopped in his tracks already, but now he turned left again, crossing the street once more and headed for an alley he had spotted, the perfect place to observe the target and to hide in if the man somehow had to pass the bat in order to get home.

Credit goes to Cylos Marn