[Flashback] Sea Legs [Larcen]

[Siola]

Early Spring, 509 AV.

CRASH.

Another wave flew over the side of the ship, knocking down a few more people to their knees, cursing all the while. Only their safety lines of feeble rope to keep them in place. It was a surprise no one had fallen over board yet, if they had, it would most certainly mean death or fatal injuries. These times were the times where Siola wondered why she wanted to live on the sea, to be like those from Rayok, the ones who were at home there. The city that floated above the waves. Secretive, alone. Peaceful. It was the life Siola longed to live, but would probably never have in the current circumstances. Her mother was still at home, in the slums of their own city, trying to keep everyone healthy. Her father was across the ocean in some other part of the world, trying to get some Miza’s to pay for new clothes, food and all the essentials one needs to have a life, to live. Many of the rich scorned the poor, thinking that they were in their situation because of the fact they were lazy and didn’t do anything. How they were wrong. If they lived one day of the life a 16 year old like Siola lived, their hands would be torn and have blood dripping through them, just from tying knots. They were laughable, they really were.

Of course, like many, Siola would never possess the strength to tell them this, it would be pointless, and would probably mean being chucked into jail or the next thing they could think of. Siola had seen those who were slaves for punishment, trailing behind their masters like wounded puppies. Kelvik who should be free, but chose to be enslaved. Siola could never understand their choisen way of life as it was alien to her. Something she never wished to experience as long as she lived.

As the wave shook the ship violently to one side, Siola hunkered down further into the small alcove she had found on the ships deck, trying to get away from the pound of rain, it was constant, fast, persistent. It had been like this for the last few hours, never ceasing in it’s constant bombardment, the storm had rolled in quickly, without any warning. She had been told that the sea’s here had been like this for a long time, unpredictable and deadly. That it varied from time to time, depending on the season. It was currently Spring, but only just. She had heard the sailors talking about the fact that the snow had only recently cleared from the streets of the capitol city, and that it was much easier to drag goods to and throw now. Unlike before when it had been treacherous.

When they had told her such things, Siola had barely been able to contain her excitement about traveling there, she had been biting her lip all day, trying not to exclaim in reply or anything stupid. Since she had set foot on the ship a few days ago, she hadn’t spoken a word apart from a few nods and points. They probably through she was a mute, it was probably better them thinking that way than being asked questions till the sun rose again. Where did you come from? How come your not at home? Stuff like that. She knew a few of the sailors from when she had worked in the shipyards herself, but had little to no time to talk to them, let alone hold a convocations. She was traveling for one reason, to get money and see if she could find a job. Until she could she had her flute strapped to her side to busk. She wasn’t all too good at it and had been learning by copying Jared, her older brother. He had taken up the profession and busked in the streets of Zeltiva, gaining money from the merchants who had come to trade. They were always generous with their money, even if it was to a 18 year old boy who looked as if he had seen better days.

Despite the constant roll of the sea, Siola was hardly affected, she had gained what her father had called it, her ‘sea legs’. To be honest, Siola had no idea what this meant but had nodded anyway and dealt with it. She was glad she had not yet fallen ill from the swell of the sea beneath the ship as it would make the whole journey a lot less comfortable and more of a pain. She had seen a few green faces so far as people had run past her hiding location, but had not yet seen anyone who had thrown up themselves. She was glad, as it would probably trigger her own nauseous to set in.

They were docking soon. Siola gathered this piece of information when one of the men yelled out that he could see the city. Siola’s heart leapt with joy, she needed to get up there and see it. She staggered up, using the wall as a prop, and then took a step forwards, nearly falling over on the slick surface on the boat. Her hair and clothes became drenched almost instantaneously from the rain but she was still determined to see what she had sought so hard to see. She grabbed a length of rope and hauled herself forwards. Her calloused hands automatically adjusting to provide the best grip. She stepped slowly over to the bow of the ship, gripping onto the wooden railing around the edge with cold hands. The lanterns which were flickering dangerously in the dark were the only light source she could see. A small smile passed her lips as she saw the city she had wanted to see for so long. She was here.

She could see the dock they were closing into, she braced herself for the bump that would surely happen against the side, but none came. Siola relaxed but then was thrown forwards without warning, they had docked finally. The parking of the ship had been quick and hasty, wanting to get out of the storm which ravaged through the sky’s. They laid out a plank from the ship to the harbor wall, not exactly where they should of ended up, but it would have to do. ‘Come on miss.’ Someone muttered to her, guiding her towards the plank in the dim light. Siola pulled away, she didn’t need any help, she was used to this. She grabbed her backpack and stepped down onto the wall, realizing that something she thought she would never be able to do had come true. She had made it to a different place on her own and away from anything that could stop her.

[Larcen]

The hooded man clad in armor that was black as night struck an imposing figure to all who managed to spot him. It took a keen eye to even manage to catch a glimpse of the shrouded figure who conveniently blended right into the night with little to no difficulty. Leaning against the wall of a shadowed alleyway, Larcen embraced the cold Syliran nights with a sinister relish. Some said that Syliras in daytime was when all the hustle and bustle of the city was in full flow, and when it was liveliest. Larcen scoffed at that. When the sun had set and when the moon had risen, was, to Larcen, when the city became truly alive. Maybe it was just him. Maybe. But Larcen liked the city's nights more than anything else. It was when he became free, invisible, and above all, deadly.

On this night, a heavy downpour scoured the city's streets of even the most persistent of the grime that stuck to the well-used roads. Drenched civilians fled the streets to cower under flimsy shelters, or else they dove into their homes to escape the cold, hard-biting rain. Some dockhands still struggled with the strong winds and violent downpour, practically drowning as huge waves hammered the port. Larcen was comfortably wreathed in his black cloak and hood, which, paired with his armor, were thick enough to provide a decent measure of warmth that protected him from the icy cold that plagued the night. The winds howled like maddened wolves, and the eerie glow of the moon added to the chilling atmosphere. In more ways than one, this was an ideal night. It was during times like these that Larcen could be somewhat perverse. He didn't quite understand it himself, but he supposed it had to do with the way he lived: Perpetually in the shadows.

As he stood in his little alleyway shelter, observing the rain, the gloom, and the general chaos of the night, Larcen spotted a disturbance in the port area not too far away. He silently observed the struggles of the sailors and the dockhands fighting to bring in a new ship from the turbulent sea and save it from a rather horrible fate at the bottom of the watery depths. Larcen noted hurried docking process, and whistled as a boarding plank was established in what appeared to be record time. The crew begun filing out then, even from a distance looking harangued from the storm. Yet one of them - a girl, of all things - was looking rather radiant as she stepped out into Syliras. Most strange.

Something ticked. Maybe it was just Larcen's imagination, but he could feel a certain something from that lass, even as he observed her from afar. Well, he was in a generous mood today. Those like her, the unwitting and the hopeful, tended to get mugged and robbed blind as soon as they landed. Some were even raped and murdered, as an additional throw-in bargain. Larcen would, at least, prevent that.

"Meow?"

Larcen blinked, then reached down distractedly to stroke a handsome tabby cat that had popped out of the shadowed alleyway and was now sitting by his right leg. The cat purred at his attentions. "Well, Mister Fluffy," Larcen mused. "I'm not sure why, but I've decided to be charitable tonight, and save a young girl's dreams."

"Meow."

"Yes, it's rather foolish, I admit, but why not? The night is young. There's plenty to do. Most of it will revolve around her this night, I suspect."

"Meow!"

"I'm sure she'll have a treat for you, Mister Fluffy. Now come on, let's go."

There was a shuffling of robes. The clink of armor. The soft mewl of a cat. Then both man and cat were gone from the alleyway.

[Siola]

Sure, it hadn’t been the smoothest of entrances, but it didn’t matter now, she was here. Safe and sound. For once it seemed that Siola and the sailors who worked on the ship had fared well upon the story seas. Siola had seen more and heard of more than 10 ship wrecks in her lifespan around the various coasts due to the storms. All had fatalities and deaths. So many souls lost to the sea to rest in the watery depths. As she stepped off the boat, Siola wondered if it was all because of the build of the ship, how it was planned. Was something in the blueprints wrong? That something needed to be re-written and improved? It was highly unlikely that anybody in the shipyards would agree with her as the builders barely listened to each other, let alone a 16 year old girl who had decided to question their methods. She would be laughed at, scorned out and told to leave and never come back, with no chance of a possible future job if she hoped to return. Siola frowned as she thought about this and wondered if she should take the risk, or discuss it with Jared and Samuel first. She rejected this thought and decided to leave it.

Stop being so negative Her mind warned her as she took a deep breath. Her conscious was right, she should be happy, she was free now. Free from parents, from basic rules which had haunted her since she was a child. She could choose her route, her path in life for the foreseeable future. Siola tried with all her might to ignore the inevitable, that she would have to return to her home town, to the life of the slums. By the looks of things it would be in a few weeks, or she would have to find a different boat to find passage on to get back. That meant more money that needed to be spent, that more money would be lost before she could get it home. To help her family. She would have to stay until this ship got out of the docks, it was the only way, there was no doubt.

As Siola glanced around the harbour, water dripped in front of her eyes, her once slightly wavy hair now straight and sodden, making a puddle around her feet, adding to the rain. Suddenly, she was pushed aside, being asked hurriedly to move, to go on her way obviously already forgetting that she had been travelling with them for the last couple of days. Maybe they didn’t want to be associated with her? She didn’t know why but she was only fishing ideas from the sea of ideas. There reasons were their own. A groan answered her question as soon as it had been framed in her mind, she jumped back and glanced around, her feet slipping from under her, misbalanced. She caught herself just in time on a wooden pole, she gripped onto it as if her life depended on it, her knuckles white and straining. It was a regular reaction to falling over, she was constantly doing it and it was a battle to keep herself upright most of the time. The scars on her limbs told the story of her falls, many still red and scabbing over with dried blood.

After she had made sure she wasn’t prone to falling again, she turned her focus on one had caused the moaning. Trying to figure out what it was, she hadn’t spotted what it was whilst she was on the ship, hadn’t sensed who or what was wrong. She squinted through the darkness to what it was. On the plank, she could see a quickly made stretcher, a ripped piece of white sail material tied over two wooden poles. 4 people were hoisting the stretcher along, resting it on their shoulders, their faces filled with pain from the weight. She stepped a few hesitant steps forward, trying to see further, her eyes straining in the darkness. Upon the stretcher was the man, lit up by a single lantern. The shine of blood on his hip made it obvious what had happened. He must have been on deck and had fallen onto something, a piece of wood might of splintered. Injuring him. Siola’s expression was one of pity, realising how lucky she was to escape such fate. Glad that her cautious nature had saved her again, as she hoped it would do in the future. Without it, she would be buried under 5 feet of earth at this present moment in life. Possibly death at the age of 13 or younger, her short life extinguished unfairly. Being left to the afterlife and whatever it would be bring.

Siola’s eyes trailed after the people, the small procession of sombre faces walked passed her, as if it was a funeral, rather than a walk to the hospital, maybe their was no help for this man who lay writhing in pain, maybe he was going to die, but no one had the heart to tell him. He wasn’t that old. Maybe he had a family, someone who cared about him. A family even. His family would never be able to see him again, never say goodbye. This broke Siola’s heart. What if health care could be better? Once again she knew she was asking challenging questions she would never find the answer to, as long as she lived.

The procession soon left her range of sight, left to the distance of the dark. Siola whispered a silent prayer, her previous grin of excitement falling into nothingness. What she had witnessed had left her feeling empty and alone, a mouse in a dinosaurs world. Prey. Siola glanced around uneasily, her stomach in knots. Seeing things in the dark. She hadn’t even planned a place to stay, she had been stupid and hadn’t thought ahead. She was in a city she didn’t know, without a familiar map to hold in her hands to figure out where to go. She swore under her breath in anger. Damn.

Siola heard a sound in the distance. Of all things it was the familiar sound of a cat. A miow. The sound was so familiar, it was comforting. Siola crouched down and clicked her fingers, knowing cats were attracted to such sounds. She didn’t dare call out, her small voice would seem weak and lost in this whole harbour.

[Larcen]

Larcen took his time going down to the docks. Why hurry? That lass wasn't going to be heading off anywhere in a hurry anytime soon. He doubted she knew the area well enough for that. But perhaps she had relatives? Then yes, she'd be hurrying off. But as he neared an elevation, he noticed the lass had disembarked fully and was now struggling to make her way past the crowd writhing in the rain, looking excited, but entirely lost. Hm. No relatives then, he supposed. The black-clad man's footsteps were slow, and deliberate. His stride was not quick, but it was long. He moved meaningfully down the elevated terrain, skidding steadily down the bottom-hold of the docks of Syliras.

As he moved, Larcen took in all the sights and sounds that plagued the night. Like silent reapers of the sky, scavenger-birds flocked the air in huge black flocks, cawing in their hoarse cries that seemed to rend the ear in a thoroughly displeasing manner. Rats scurried to and afro, seeking the sewage or the wastes, like insects of all shapes and sizes lurked in nooks and crannies strewn all over the vast fortress-city that served as a melting pot of all race and culture, an amalgamation of Mizahar's life, bound unto one big muddle of a metropolis. Larcen noted the people around him. At this hour of the night, there were few who lurked the streets that could be called respectable. Some of them were honest enough, certainly. The muscled dockworkers and hired hands, sweating away as they labored, their on-and-off vices forgotten as they toiled. Yet there were also the shadier types. Even in a city as well-enforced as Syliras, crime was never fully avoidable. A sultry-looking soiled dove here and there, baring a little leg, showing a little breast, batting their eyelashes prettily. Men who, like Larcen, were hooded and masked, stalking the sides of the main roads seemingly without purpose, their eyes darting about mischievously, roaming the area for their next target.

As a wayward wagon trundled off the road by accident, losing it's handler and crashing into a sideway stall, the commotion caused birds to launch off the trees and take to the skies while driving angry men out of nearby buildings to shout and swear at passing workers, demanding to know which clumsy fool had done the deed. This passive chaos torched every city, not just Syliras. Indeed, in Syliras, it was considered mild. Larcen grimaced darkly as he remembered his more sinister days in cities like Sunberth and Ravok. Not exactly the best places to grow up in. Even now, just past thirty years of age, he felt like he was centuries' old as he walked the remarkably peaceful night-streets of Syliras.

As he left the fortified expanse of Stormhold Castle, the bright lights that clotted every street and every turn begun to fade, until they seemed like fireflies in the distance. Where there is a light, there will be a shadow, Larcen mused to himself darkly. That saying was quite true, he found. Larcen himself was walking proof, was he not? A shit-stain of life, skulking about a city of virtue. That spoke volumes of Syliras's silent goodness.

It took awhile, but after his lengthy trek at a leisurely pace, Larcen finally arrived at a crossroads by the docks, and swiftly took a left turn into an alleyway. Why not directly confront the lass? Easy. He had to deal with her pursuers first. Even now a group of shady thugs were stalking the lass from the gloom of the sheltered alleyways. Larcen clicked his tongue once, and Mister Fluffy, who had been walking by his side, mewled once, then leaped off to find the lass like a trained tracker. Meanwhile, Larcen moved into the darkness, and then abruptly made a sharp turn in joint-alley and ended up directly behind three or four men clad in dark garments, who were watching the lost-looking Siola stumble around the docks while it was pelted by rain. The rain. Larcen quite liked rainy weather. It's like the heavens' are having sporadic fits of sorrow for us, and their tears are all the consolation we get, Larcen thought to himself as he shrugged a little as if to shake the chill out of his bones, then reached out and tapped one of the thugs on the shoulder, making him yelp, alerting his companions, all of whom turned around swiftly and stared at Larcen. Suspicion crossed their features. A lone man, hooded, cloaked, and looking perfectly at ease and confident, confronting four times his number? It either meant he was retarded or that he was very much capable of taking them all down. The latter always seemed more likely come night, when everything was hazy and incoherent.

Silence. Minutes passed. One of them finally raised the courage to open his mouth and ask, ostensibly, what Larcen was doing here and how he planned to remain alive and breathing for the next few minutes. Before he could speak, Larcen reacted. Quick as lightning, he dove his left hand into his belt, pulled free a dagger, and held it in a reverse-grip position at the speaker's neck, making him swallow and stop talking. As his friends started forward, Larcen tutted swiftly. "Uh-Uh-Uh," he murmured quietly, the dagger's tip drawing some blood as he gestured it forward a little. "You move, your friend ends up with a brand new hole where there aren't meant to be holes."

They stepped back slowly.

"Listen," Larcen said slowly. "The girl you were watching? Forget about her. She's mine to have fun with now. You guys go haunt some other lass. Maybe the serving-wench from the Stallion. Hands off my prey, mhm?"

One nodded slowly. The others followed suit, save for the one with a dagger at his neck, who didn't want to risk any movement.

"Don't bother going off to find your friends to hunt me and the girl down later on. Because I know where you all work. The docks, am I right? Sixth-Eighth? Low wages, good booze? Yeah." The realization that dawned across their faces promised Larcen he would see no more of them. "I can give you greater grief than the Valterrian. Don't mess with me. We clear?"

They all nodded again. The one with the blade at his throat blinked nervously.

"Good." He pulled the dagger free, then begun to step backwards into the shadows. His right hand was raised upwards. On it was a miniature projectile firing device which could launch a small dart at high speed as soon as it was triggered. A common tool of the larcenous. He didn't expect them to attack, but he used it as a preucation anyway.

"Who are you?" One of them blurted out. "You with the knights?"

"Me? Knights? Nah." Larcen smiled, and the pearly whites illuminated the shadows before vanishing shortly after. His voice rang in the air long after he was gone. "I'm just an indecisive man."

As the thugs cleared out as quickly as they could, Mister Fluffy skulked in front of Siola, then sat down and mewled as soon as she neared him. The handsome tabby's ears perked up as she spoke and clicked her fingers. He mewled again, and stalked forward daintily, then settled down right beside her leg and begun rubbing his body vigorously against her.

"I see you have already met Mister Fluffy." Larcen mused, suddenly beside her, sitting on an empty crate which had discarded on the ground weeks ago. He scratched his mask, which, along with his hood, obscured his whole face save for his eerie green eyes. "I'm Larcen. Welcome to Syliras."

[Siola]

Siola pulled her legs up to her chin as she sat there, biting her lip and anxiously glanced around, trying to see further in the ever pressing darkness. It choked her view, forcing her to see no further than around 150 yards ahead of her. The lanterns dotted around illuminated a few corners, but not enough to stop the feeling of terror from appearing. They cast strange shadows on the walls, reminding Siola of when she was a young girl. Lying awake, terrified about the monster under her bed. The old tree outside her window had been scratching on the pane of glass, reminding the young girl of fingernails, sharp claws. Ready to sneak in. Ready to kill her, to end her life in one quick moment. Snapping her mind back to reality, Siola’s heart begin to beat fast and her hands were shaking slightly, even when she was scratching the cat’s head. She tried to re-assure herself with the fact that the only reason these nightmares had come was due to the fact a merchant had travelled by and had told everyone at the hotel about his encounter with a member of the Nuit species who had been passing to and from many people’s bodies. An unwelcome guest to the person’s private heart. The man had told his listeners with well practiced words, weaving a tapestry which hung in Siola’s mind, aged, but to never be forgotten until time ran out for her soul. The nuit had ravaged the town and had left everyone to die, so the traveller had said and promised with such certainty it had to be true.

After the story, Siola’s mother had taken her 10 year old daughter aside and had told her that it wasn’t true and that he was making it up, buying his way in the world, that story telling was his profession and that he was just scaring them because he could. At the time, Siola had nodded and smiled with gritted teeth, reassuring her that she wouldn’t pay any attention to it and that she would just move on. Siola’s parents had always told her she had an overactive imagination. But it never seemed totally real until this day.

Siola stared at the cat a little longer, wondering what it was doing here, wondering why it wasn’t bothered by the rain which still fell from the heavens. Weren’t cats supposed to be scared of rain? Siola frowned, unable to understand what the cat was doing here. She shook her head at it, telling her mutely that she didn’t have any food of any sort and that it should probably just leave her alone. The only thing she had actually brought with her consisted of her backpack which held a cup, blanket and flute and her bag of gold Miza’s which sat comfortably at the bottom of her small bag, hopefully out of reach by any pickpockets nearby. The weight of them made her feel more comfortable than she would without them, the main reason being that she thought she could most likely buy herself a room for a night with it, and at least have a bed to sleep in instead of sleeping in the streets. Currently, she only had 10 Miza’s, her savings. It wasn’t much, but it would have to do for the moment. If worst came to worst she could tell something for a profit, so she had something at least a little worth while to take back home to Zeltiva instead of appearing as an utter failure. She would be haunted by endless teasing from her older brothers, who seemed to have their perfect lives already, even when they were older than her by a mere two years. How time changed a person, for the better or for the worst. Siola wondered what she would be like when she was 18, would she have a life to be proud of? Or what she fall to the fate of the poor without a job or livelihood? Only time would tell, but time was unkind and ruthless. Giving away no clues.

As she sat there with the cat she began to hear voices in the distance, a long way off. But in the silence it seemed they were standing next to the teenager, screaming in her ear without a care in the world. Men’s voices. Siola detected it by the low tenor of their voices. Voices that were tip-toeing to a shout. Anger. One man out of the group seemed to have the control, she could hear the questions in the others voices. As if the controller was their master, their saviour in life. Siola had never understood the way men worked, the way they seemed to hate each other within an instant. But then again, her personality was like that, if she didn’t like someone, she would tell them within an instant. Or the other option was just to make it obvious by not talking all together. Siola wasn’t a girl of many words for her own reasons, letting herself fall into the trap of being misunderstood most of the time. She was naïve when it came to such things, with a simple view of the world.

The men’s voices in the distance stopped after a while, drifting back into the cover of the darkness. Siola guessed they had been down an alley way, due to the fact they had not be illuminated by the flicker of flames. Men that liked the darkness, who liked to watch but not move. Criminals. Siola had heard and seen enough to know the type. Thieves that sat there, waiting till the last lamp was blown out, waiting to make their moves. Knights of their own trade. Nimble and unforgiving hands stealing what was not theirs, objects that didn’t deserve to be theirs. The cat appeared again and wrapped itself around her legs, purring happily to itself. Siola crouched down this time, hiding behind the wall, scratching the cat behind it’s ears. It had obviously been groomed and looked after. Meaning there was an owner to this cat. Siola frowned. A cat like this surely wouldn’t stray too far from it’s owner would it? Unless.. pieces of Siola’s mind slotted into place. Unless the owned was one of those men. One of those ones in the distance. Siola’s eyes widened in some unknown terror whilst she tried to think rationally, she shouldn’t be making judgements when she didn’t even know the people. But then, she thought, why were they hiding in the shadows? In the dark, in the pounding rain? It didn’t make any sense. Did it? Siola’s mind was running away with itself again, taking it’s own lead and grip on her view.

Siola had little to no time to figure it out, as suddenly their was a voice. Right next to her this time. She wasn’t imagining it. This was actually happening. She screamed in fright, scrambling away hurriedly, sending the cat flying in the process, she heard it hiss in agitation. Siola glanced up at the man with wide, terrified eyes. He seemed to be sitting on some sort of crate which she hadn’t realised was next to her at the time. His green eyes sparkled in the dim light. But that didn’t matter right now. All that mattered that he didn’t seem to be planning to kill her. Ccurrently. But one move and he could simply drag a knife to a throat, catching her with one shoulder and ending her life, taking the little possessions she had and dumping her body in the sea. Never to be found again. She had no connections here. No one would even care.

The man’s dress startled Siola a little more, not exactly calming her terror. He was dressed in a dark cloak with a mask. Hiding something, as if a criminal would. But why would he have a cat? Companion. When he spoke, Siola just nodded hurriedly, accepting what he said in her way of saying thanks. ‘Siola.’ She murmured, her voice quiet and underused.

[Larcen]

Larcen blinked and held his hands out as Mister Fluffy came flying towards him, hissing and spitting in an affronted manner. "Whoop," he grunted as he caught the flying feline, then set the cat down on his lap, shielding him from the rain somewhat with his baggy cloak sleeve. "Careful," Larcen mused, then paused as she told him her name without his prompting.

"Siola." The man clad in the colors of the night said it like a fact, instead of as a word, or even as a term of address like a name should be used as. "Siola," Larcen said again, testing the word, rolling it about on his tongue, as if getting familiar to calling someone by name again. It wasn't, after all, something he did frequently - using a name. He didn't bother to learn the names of the people he tended to visit, most of the time. They hardly needed to use their names after he was done with them. "Nice sort of name. Rolls right off the tongue." He smiled, though it was not viewable behind that mask he wore, so he merely looked like his features creased and his eyes narrowed.

The girl looked young. Couldn't be of age yet, could she? She looked scared, too. Young and scared. Not the best appearance to be having while you skulked around a place like Syliras. Larcen shook his head slowly, wondering about this girl's state of mind. Then again, he probably wasn't helping her out, with the way he dressed. The heavy cloak-and-cowl appearance was necessary to conceal who he was and at the same time give a distinctive signature appearance to those who wanted to seek him out. Whoever lay beneath the mask was thus kept safe and squirreled away. Not that there's anybody under the mask, Larcen pointed out to himself laconically. Just a grim shadow of somebody pretending to be human. Barely that.

Placing both hands onto the side of the crate, the hooded figure set his cat down, then lurched off and landed on his feet steadily, even as the heavy downpour bogged him down and splattered off his heavy hood and cloak. "Bad sort of night to be out." Larcen commented lightly, speaking to no-one in particular. "For people like you, at least. Not me." A grim smile, again, concealed by the mask he wore. The studded leather armor he wore underneath his cloak clinked as he moved towards her, walking slowly, in a casual manner that tried not to unnerve her too much. "There's a lot of dark things out here tonight. None of them meaning well. Some of them indecisive. You shouldn't really be out here mingling in the night then, should you?" Mister Fluffy mewled in agreement. "My cat agrees," Larcen offered to Siola as a means of explanation. He paused for a moment, then said mildly, "Where are my manners?"

With a flourish, he took his cloak off his person, then stepped towards her, and in one swift movement slung the heavy cloak over her body. It was made for someone bigger than her, so it acted like a great blanket that coiled around her body, giving her some measure of warmth in the bitter downpour. Now that his cloak was off, it revealed something about him apart from the face-concealing hood and mask. He wore sleek black studded leather armor that covered his entire body, save for the joints, which were banded straps of clot layered with metal rivets. On his belt were a series of mean-looking daggers, and hanging behind the belt was a strange two-pronged weapon designed to intercept and then snap swords in half. An odd metal device was worn on his wrist, and darts placed into a bandolier hung from his shoulder. All in all, the man was heavily armed, and appeared quite comfortable with the mini arsenal decking out his body.

Once the cloak was placed onto her petite-in-comparison body, Larcen stepped beside her, and inched back a little, his cat following suit, yowling, for it was exposed to the rain. He picked the feline up, set it upon his shoulder, where it hung on stubbornly, then held out his right hand in what passed for a gentlemanly manner. "Your money isn't quite so safe in these parts," Larcen said casually. "Best to head on in, away from the alleyways. Then the knights will be around to guard your pretty little head." A tilt of his hooded head. "Allow me to escort you all the way in. My only request is that you don't ask me why. Deal?"

[Siola]

The man seemed startled that Siola reacted in such a manner, to her, it was one that was reasonable and explainable without a doubt. How often was it people appeared out of no where in seemingly impossible ways? Although, maybe this man wasn’t human. Maybe he was a race that could teleport. He sounded human, but then again, such things were deceiving. Maybe he acted his life out, with no real persona? Siola wouldn’t know, since the only thing she had gathered so far from their brief introductions that he could speak her language, and also owned the cat. Not the best things to gather information from. If anything, she would be better off staring at a rock and gathering more information. The only thing she could tell was that ‘Mister Fluffy’ as he called the cat, seemed to not be best pleased with the fact he had just experienced a brief time in freefall. Siola wanted to apologise, but that wouldn’t give the best impression of her being entirely sane. Even though she was, most of the time.

She frowned slightly and didn’t move when he repeated her name. As if trying it out, seeing if it sounded right. Siola knew her name wasn’t exactly common, she had never passed another with the same one. It originated from some language, unknown to herself, but it meant a lot to her parents. The first time he said it was as if he was stating the sky was blue and the grass was green. Not that he was talking to an actual person. Siola didn’t like the way he said it, it didn’t sound right. He sounded as if he was using the word to kill, in a strange way, that he didn’t use common words such as names often. Siola simply nodded when he complimented her name, watching as his eyes creased. Unsure if it was a smile or a sneer, Siola shrank further back, wishing the wall behind her would swallow her up and take her back home. She had never wished this, never wanted her time in a new place to end up in this way. Maybe the rain had been an omen in the first place? Warning her about the fact that this wasn’t the place to be, that this was going to be the end, not the new beginning. Siola clamped down on her thoughts again as she realised that her thoughts were making her heart race again in terror, her blood pumping through her veins too fast for comfort. Terror was bad, it led you to make bad choices, consequentially ending you up in a lot of trouble usually.

She watched as he stood up, using the old wooden crate as an aid. Siola was surprised that the old crate had survived that long without falling apart. Even from the distance she had insisted on, she could see the familiar shine of rust on metal as she examined it. Surely it would fall apart soon. Obviously not. Siola frowned as he applied pressure to it and it kept it’s original structure. Darn it. Siola was sure it would have been hilarious if he had been sent flying, that it would make the whole situation of being here slightly more bearable. As he stood, the rain seemed to cascade down after settling on his cloak, hinting thing it was made of a sturdy and strong material, something not to be taken lightly. But the days were warming, the first rays of sun peaking through the grey murky days of winter. Many had already to start to dress for the warmer weather, anticipating it. Was the climate in Syliris different and more varied than in her own town of Zeltiva? Siola was eager to find out if she survived the night.

Siola nodded in response to his comment. Agreeing with him immediately. It was not classed as a great night to be here in this place. Many people said that first impressions count and the rest doesn’t matter. But then, if this was so. Siola would wish to never come and set foot in this place again. Instead, she was in an entirely different frame of mind about this city. She wished she could see it in it’s full potential, as she knew it currently wasn’t in its best spotlight as it was.

He spoke some more, words that Siola wasn’t able to spot who they were aimed at. Siola or the cat. She guessed the cat but she wasn’t sure. With a swift movement, he took off his cloak and wrapped it around her, covering her fully. She was almost lost in its many folds of the unknown material which now surrounded her. Why was this man being kind to her? The daggers that gleamed dangerously told a different story to the courteous gentlemen before her. Was he a hit man? An assassin? Waiting to kill an unsuspecting victim, possibly her?

At his offer, she was sure how to react. She counted up her various options, and most of them ended badly as it was. She simply nodded in reply. A silent ok.




[[ooc: sorry it’s not so good D: ]]

[Larcen]

Another wry smile. Another creasing of the mask. He patted her now-cloaked shoulders gently, adjusting the big floppy garment so that it wreathed her entire petite stature from the biting rain, then guided her with a gentle poke every now and then, up towards the city lengths. Prowling alongside him was Mister Fluffy, who looked inquisitively up at the girl and meowed something. "Yes Mister Fluffy," Larcen acknowledged. "She does look like a giant tuna now. But you can't eat her." The cat promptly looked rather forlorn. "Meow?" Mister Fluffy inclined his little head sadly, big sorrowful feline irises directed at Siola, as if seeking to melt her heart before gaining the marked approval to eat her.

"Mister Fluffy, you rascal!" Larcen admonished, rather bemused at the indirect affections. "How could you toy with a lady's heart like that?"

"Meow."

Larcen shrugged. "Lass. Lady. One and the same to dwellers of the night. Keyword: Female."

"Meow!"

"Yes, we're a rotten lot." The remarkably shady figure turned his head to Siola to show he was now talking to her. "Tell me. Where do you hail from? Why have you come here alone? Seems a rather foolish thing to do. Are you, as they say, 'out to see the world!', or something? One of those adventurous types?" A quirk of the brow. A twinkle of amusement in his morbid eyes. "So an adventuress, perhaps?" A low chuckle, muffled by the mask he wore. "You'll forgive my poor sense of humor." A slightly malevolent air suddenly made itself known just then, which might unnerve her a little.

Larcen and Mister Fluffy, moving in tandem, guided the cloak-and-rainproofed Siola slowly up the winding pathways towards the vast, fortified expanse, that was Stormhold Castle. "Been here before? Or first time? Probably first time, I reckon," he glanced up at the looming walls that promised a painful death if Syliran laws were ever breached in close proximity. "Well then, whatever is your purpose here in Syliras? The melting pot of culture and civilization. Everyone has a different reason to come here, I believe."

Soon, the gates were within view. As they approached the well-manned gates, where armored knights lurked within sight, Larcen inquired, "Indulge me - what's your reason for coming here?"

OOCThat's okay, short repy. D: