A Good Book {Flashback--Solo}

[Ossshamamora]

Season of Spring, Day 5, 511AV She had only live in Sunberth for but a season and already she had seen much than she ever had in her life with Johna. Where he had lived the life of a hermit and wanderer in general peace the city seemed to be the complete opposite. It thrived on chaos and deadly consequences, for in such a lethal place every action caused a domino effect. It was truly a strange place and she was enjoying every moment of it. Her only true discrepancy with the city was how easily she kept losing herself, one moment she was sure she was where she was meant to be and the next she was in another area entirely. Though she could blame no one but herself and her short attention span but it was this particular type of wandering that made her stumble upon Stumble Alley. She had heard vague warnings from those she had met and those she had wished she hadn’t met but her curiosity was peeked. Something that was essentially more dangerous than the people who lived in Sunberth and carrying more mysteries than the whole city could likely hold… Or so she had been told. All the same Amora stepped towards the alley with every intention of entering it and with each step she took the amount of people milling about seemed to thin out, for such a loud, at times obnoxious city, the silence was both a blessing and a forewarning. Most of the buildings, she noted, were abandoned and the few stores that littered the area but even they seemed devoid of any form of life. And by any form of life, she meant any. Not even the birds seemed to wish to flutter through the strangely silent alley. Still she could see past the gaps in-between the buildings where in the next alley way over, people milled about casual, a rouge game of dice or two even a stray cat here and there. Johna had always liked to warn her that if something looked peaceable it was more than likely dangerous, he liked to use her as a prime example. This particular alley seemed to have that same feeling but Amora had never before felt it directed at her and it sent a small thrill through her. But not only was there the feeling of Stumble Alley itself, there was also the eyes that peeked through the abandoned houses, no doubt hiding from something or someone. But in this particular area no one seemed willing to start too much a ruckus; then again she was much too naive when it came to the city. So she took her time, her eyes wandering over everything but not truly paying attention to her surroundings, too engrossed with simply being able to walk through the alley. Still she poked her head in this shop and that, completely ignoring the fact that for the few buildings that held business there was even less patrons, but she foolishly held no fear, not for pride in her own strength but for the fact that she had been told she was relatively safe so long as the light shone. Common sense should have told her though the alley may pose no threat—yet—a thief or worse would eventually come out of hiding and attempt a deed for better or worse. And so it was. One moment she was picking her way through what was once a lavish house and the next she was on her belly, face pressed into the floor in a very unpleasant manner. “Tell me girl, do you carry all your coin in your sack or you belt?”

[Ossshamamora]

“…sack.” The foot pressed against her skull eased up slightly as the faceless voice pulled her backpack off, her arms back in ways they were not meant to. Strangely enough she did not fight, did not make a sound, only strained her eyes to try and see the man and yet once she was relieved of her back the face she found staring at her was not a man’s but a rough looking young woman. “Is it sewn in?” Silence. “Are you going to answer me?” “No.” “I see. In that case, I will get it myself.” Turning the satchel upside down the woman dumped the contents out across the decaying floor, scattering both her miza and her few belongs across the floor. “And what a pretty penny you have here.” The woman than proceeded to ignore her, picking up her coins here and there and shoving them into her pocket. Amora watched calmly, she could let the woman disappear with her coin, she assumed she would be robbed eventually, it seemed to be a common occurrence for those both human and not who could not use a weapon. Even in her Dhani form she was not someone strong in a fight. Johna had usually had her hunt in viper form and the odd human she did eat was bitten in viper form and waited upon until dead. All the same, a small tingle of instinct pricked her mind. Something engraved in every being that made you fight for what was yours, being who she was though she ignored the tingle and watch the woman fill her pockets with her coin. “I thank you for your donation.” She spoke, not unkindly, “But as it stands, I do not like witness’ and you…well, you’re a witness.” She moved quickly, almost quickly enough to rival Amora but not quite and so it was much to her thief’s surprise that when she lunged to make a painless kill there was neither body nor blood was beneath her. In fact, Amora lay a few feet to the side and was beginning to stand up, looking all in all very calm for someone who was being robbed. Filthy thing touched me. Once more the woman approached the Dhani but Amora had felt another instinct and this one she did not ignore and at the same moment the woman tackled her, she snagged her whip from the floor. Shock and fear she had not known in many years pumped through the snake-woman as her attacker’s dagger slid sickeningly easy into her arm before withdrawing and plunging at her once more. Though this time it missed, instead sliding smoothly against her jaw, leaving a thin red trail before embedding itself into the floor. “Get off!” Her voice sounded foreign to her own ears, panicked and desperate. Whip still in hand she jerked her arms up in a shaky manner and struggled to wrap the cord around the girl’s neck. It worked, to an extent, her attacker fending her off while reaching for yet another dagger but she suffered another slice, this one to her leg as she tried to buck the other off. The thief was now more worried about getting the cord away from her neck, her finger reaching and digging into Amora’s wounds, biting, clawing, no longer was it a form of art, it was now a struggle for her to live. She was no longer the hunter. Tightening her hold on the cord and jerking it roughly, Amora held on for all she was worth but as the struggles became less potent and the immediate threat passed she could feel her heart slow and the adrenaline slowly leave her limbs. No longer did she feel panicked, in fact, she now felt a perverse sense of satisfaction in watching the other woman choke, her nails digging into her own throat in an effort to remove the whip and gain air. “Humans change colors.” It was an observation, simple and said with no real interest other than notation. She had never seen one suffocate before. Slowly, oh so slowly, the human stopped struggling, her body now simply jerking in an effort to get air and failing. Perhaps Amora would have killed her but a thick, warm, wetness touching her hand made her jerk away. The woman had drooled on her! “Disgusting!” Completely calm now and more than disgusted with the being in front of her, her own injuries suddenly burned throughout her. The fight or die instinct completely drained along with the urge to kill the woman, she simply no longer cared, her only immediate problem now was the wounds she had suffered and getting her miza back to pay for a doctor. Staring around her at the mild chaos that had ensued, she moved slowly gathering her things and herding them into the bag before scooting back towards the unconscious—or dead—body and pulling her coin back, dropping it carelessly back into her bag. It was really her own fault several pieces slipped away into the cracks without her notice. Walking away with a bit of a stumble, she stared at her arm blankly, it was not a life threatening wound but it would take a while to heal, of that she had no doubt. Only a few centimeters wide it had to be at least an inch deep. Stopping abruptly she turned to the woman once more, who now looked like she was chocking while trying to breath. Not dead. Good, she didn’t like to waste food. Grabbing the woman buy the end of her shirt, she bent down and took said shirt between her teeth and tore away a strip before repeating the process. After which she made a smooth exit, tying the pieces together to form a lengthy cloth and fastening it around her arm. It probably would not have been so bad if the human hadn’t tried to shove her finger into it. Once outside the building, she casually straightened herself out and walked in what she assumed was the direction of the exit. Of course, she was wrong.

[Ossshamamora]

Somehow or other she had managed to get herself deeper into the Goddess forsaken alley because upon exiting the horrid little house she found she was actually quite near the end of it. It honestly seemed a bit impossible, actually it seemed very impossible. “I will disappear.” A quiet observation, nothing more or less, perhaps the alley was attempting to swallow her in the same manner she swallowed her prey. A slight shrug and she was off once more, if she must head this way and reach the end there would obviously be only one way back, the opposite way. Curiosity and a strange determination to reach the end fueled her speedy travel forwards rather than back, actually, she was quiet intent on reaching the back wall that she nearly missed it. Though once she noticed it, it was hard to think anyone could miss it. It was as if this particular section of the alley had of the alley had come out of a child’s nightmare’s or at least out of Rhysol’s fantasies. Even as the sunlight shone it struck the building at odd angles, casting shadows that looked much too much like hands waiting to grip you all too tightly. It seemed to truly be more spine tingling and decrepit than the rest of the alley. It was strange. “The Majestic.” But it was not the title of the shop nor the fear factor that propelled her forward against all sane judgment--no, it was something much simpler than that. That something was, in fact, the door less frame the seemed to be the only point of entry and exit. Brushing her fingers along it she stepped forward without hesitation, her gaze sweeping around the room disinterestedly until it happened upon the next door frame, yet again it seemed to lacking a door. Picking her way across the floor she took care not to step on too many rat droppings, it was one of the hardest things to get out of shoe cervices. I see why it has no door. Her thoughts were interrupted by the fact that upon reaching the frame she could not step through, it was if she had walked into a door. A door she could not see. Frowning slightly she pushed forward once more before giving up and simply inspecting the room. The room itself was just as strange as the store, odd bits and pieces littering the table, shelves lining the walls but perhaps the strangest thing of all was the little man looked at her glaringly from his stool. “What do you want?” But her attention was already away from him, more interested in what he was doing not what he was saying, “What is that?” Her demand was just as childishly spoken as his, her body attempting to move through the barrier once more. For a moment he seemed to grow agitated, his fingers flying across whatever he was doing while muttering about people walking into things but he did answer, though Amora had not realized long moments had passed, to engrossed with watching what he was doing. Even with her human nose it was a strong…something. “Why do you want to know?” “Flowers…” Her voice echoed his too soft to hear and his gazed turned fully toward her, abject suspicion in them. “What do you want?” Suddenly what he was doing did not seem interesting at all, actually it seemed like with every question she asked he grew more agitated and with him the little Shoppe was less inviting than before. If possible. It made her wish to leave and made her react accordingly, pointing at the liquid he was brewing on the table. “That.” The man stared at the concoction in his hands,“Lilyweb?” “Lilyweb.” Her eyes locked onto the man as he scurried across the room, his gaze flicking back to her periodically until he disappeared from view, he returned only a few moments later with a small vial. “Twenty gold mizas.” With a quick nod and itching fingers Amora dropped her bag to the ground and without further ado began to rummage through it pulling out the coins with slow precision, her only show to her excitement was the way her eyes continuously strayed to the small vial. Counting the coins twice, in obvious mistrust of her counting skills the man finally handed her the vial, “It has four doses.” She gazed at him blankly for a few moments, her gaze straying between the concoction on his desk and the vial on her hand before she simply turned on her heel and walked out. She no longer felt any urge to be in the store; she had gotten what she came for even if moments ago she hadn’t known what it was. Upon exiting her gaze wandered up to the sky, it was not yet dark, only early in the afternoon but that did not make her panic—no, what made a small tingle of something go up her spine was something(or one) else entirely. Foreboding, the feeling should have come upon her when entering Stumble Alley and maybe it had but the sight of another woman, a little worse for the wear, tottering down the alley made Amora’s own wounds ache in response and her fingers twitch for the whip that was stored away. She was being followed. She thought briefly about meeting the woman head on but she doubted luck would help her this time, she had plenty of time to shift but she would rather not have anyone know exactly what she was just yet. Gazing around her, her gaze locked on the decrepit little building in front of her, directly across the way, it was small but most likely empty and easily overlooked. The perfect hiding spot. Walking swiftly the young woman jerked the door open a crack and slid herself in, shutting it delicately. But upon turning she noted the small building was far from empty.