[Flashback] Shedding skin

[Iskessah]

51st Autumn, 505 Iskessah awoke when she noticed herself feeling a tad cold. Before she even raised her head, she could sense the problem: the fire in the hearth was going out. This was unacceptable. She slithered down from the bed...the bed which has so recently been her master's (her mind filled with bitterness at the thought, and the grim satisfaction that she had finally had her revenge). The smashed remains of her cage were still strewn about the opposite wall. She would have to get rid of those eventually, but she was putting off actually leaving this house. For the past sixty years or so, she had seen nothing but these four walls, and she was a little afraid of what lay outside... She initiated the shift into her human form, reveling in the soft crunch of her bones and muscles rearranging themselves. She stretched her naked human form and placed a log from the nearly-depleted pile delicately onto the fire, not wanting what few embers were left to go out before they could light the new fuel. She basked in front of the glowing coals for a few moments, but then she reluctantly turned away and donned the simple clothing her master has left behind. She would go outside today. There was no more putting it off. She was running out of firewood, which would make staying mildly uncomfortable (the hearth had only existed to keep Iskessah warm, and her master had not been kind enough to keep it burning constantly, so she knew that the natural temperature of her little abode was annoyingly just below comfortable. The other problem was that she had started to feel hungry. It had been several days since she had consumed the first decent meal she'd had since capture - her master's body - and she had long since digested it. Across the room from the fireplace, the now-human-looking woman stood before the door, her hand extended toward the door handle. But she couldn't quite bring herself to turn it. This was too big, she wasn't ready! Do you want to just starve in here then? Before arguing with herself could go any further, there was a sharp knock at the door. Iskessah nearly jumped out of her skin, but she composed herself as quickly as possible and used this escuse to open the door before she could change her mind.

[Lazybones]

It was a gorgeous day.

But that was Ravok. The sky was always clear, the sun always warm. Shannon Valdinox's ride through the canals was a pleasant and serene one. The ravosala's driver was mercifully antisocial and didn't try to strike up a conversation with the aristocrat, allowing him to relax quietly in his seat as he watched the city pass around him. The light breeze feathered his ruffed collar, and teased the gentle, curled black locks over his forehead.

Today was beautiful, but not for the weather or his fortunate choice of ravosalaman. In each hand, Shannon held a possibility. In his left was his father's lacquered black cane, tipped with gold rings and concealing a thin, steel rapier within a secret wooden sheath. In his right, a basket of dried meats, fresh bread, and seasonal fruits, a gift for a grieving young woman. One of these would be put to use, this afternoon. Shannon's days were seldom this interesting. He was glad for the opportunity. The uncertainty of what could happen left him titillated and in an elevated mood.

It was just so exciting when lives were on the line (not his, of course).

Arriving finally at the NHC suites, Shannon had to stop to remember which apartment he had come to visit. They were all drearily identical in this wretched place. He wasn't sure how anyone could stand it.

Eventually the door to opportunity stood in front of him, almost glowing with promise. His cane rapped against the oak cheerily, then he planted it next to his feet to support his weight. The instrument wasn't required to walk, of course, but it did always add a modicum of class to his demeanor.

The door finally opened before him, revealing a woman with startlingly black hair and piercing eyes. Someone might have described her as lovely, in a commoner sort of way. She was older than he expected, closer to his age than teenagerhood. That put them on more even ground. Good, he liked that.

"Good afternoon, miss." Shannon dipped in a gentleman's quarter bow. The gift basket shifted in his arm. "So sorry to trouble you out of the blue, like this—my name is Shannon Valdinox. This is Mattieu Kosun's residence, is it not? You must be his… niece, wasn't it? Much too young to be his daughter." Shannon's gentle gray eyes visited upward in thought. "I don't think he ever had one, but Mattieu was always a secretive man."

[Iskessah]

Iskessah started stupidly at the man for a moment. What was this nonsense he was spouting? As if she could possibly share blood with that -- But perhaps this was one of those games her master (former!) liked to play. Iskessah had often watched Mattieu teaching his apprentice how to communicate with obvious lies. She vaguely recalled something about the difference between the truth and the "official story"... but now was not the time to go hunting through her memory for obscure lessons. Not when things were happening, now, to her. She had a feeling that saying the wrong thing could be a death sentence in this situation, so she took her time before responding. She took this time to look over the man. He carried himself in the manner that Iskessah had come to recognize as the "respectable" or "noble" facade. She found herself standing a little straighter, trying to match his posture, as she sometimes did when she watched Mattieu teach Angela, his apprentice. The man... Shannon... was carrying something in each hand. She looked oddly at the stick. Was he feeble in some way? Mattieu has only begun walking with a stick when he was old enough to need extra support... or at least to want people to believe he was weak. She made a note to not underestimate this man, whoever he was. His other hand held a basket, which, from the taste of it (she determined by flicking the air with her tongue) contained mostly fodder for prey, but enough meat to make Iskessah salivate. She would have to work hard to not let her hunger influence her actions. She was finally ready to speak. "His neissce, yesss," she hissed softly, unaccustomed to speech. When was the last time she had used her voice? She had never deigned to say a word to her captor, nor his apprentice, instead just listening, biding her time. Shannon's attempt at flattery made no sense to her, but of course it wouldn't. The man thought he was talking to a human, that human tricks could possible work on her. "What do you want?" She whispered a bit more sharply.

[Lazybones]

Upon noticing the woman's lisp, Shannon quirked an eyebrow. Certainly there were the unfortunate dregs—halfbreeds and cripples usually—who struggled with simple things like speech and walking. If Mattieu's charge was afflicted with some regrettable ailment, it would make sense that he'd keep her hidden from the world. Dear thing.

Unfortunately for her, Shannon recognized that lisp, that involuntary drawl of the tongue. He may have missed her licking her lips to taste the air, but her speech speared into his mind like a pike, piercing old memories that lay dormant with the nearly forgotten trials of his youth. The Desert existed so far away from here and now, a story that changed every time he retold it. New details were always added. Certain ones were always left out.

But the adopted Valdinox was a careful man. His memories were blurred and faded. Acting on mere intuition was foolish. There were all the chances that Mattieu's poor niece was just a simpleton. He'd have to apply more pressure to find out.

It was fear that he searched for upon her narrow, triangular face.

Something in his steely eyes sharpened as Shannon regarded the woman, as if he had finally decided what he wanted from her. His smile was steadfast on his handsome, well-groomed features. "Nothing, my dear, I simply came to see if it was true. Mattieu was an associate of mine, and a friend, though he did lose himself in his work. I was shocked when I heard he'd gone missing. When I heard he left behind family, I made it my priority to see how you were doing. You must be devastated."

Shannon lifted the basket in is hand, still leaning on his cane. His left hand was tense, ready to insert it in the doorframe if she attempted to close the door on him. "This is for you. It's a paltry token, considering your loss, but it was the best I could do on short notice, I'm afraid. I'd like to do more to help you. You must realize the NHC won't let you stay here if you don't pay rent. You must be in need of money. May I come in?"

[Iskessah]

Iskessah watched Shannon with suspicion and caution. The sort of people Mattieu associated with were the sort who never revealed their true intentions, and she just was not familiar enough with the world to decipher them herself. However, she was not afraid. The man had already decided that she was simply Mattieu's surviving relative, and even if he discovered the truth, it simply did not occur to her that a non-Dhani could pose much of a threat. She could not bring herself to dishonor Siku by pretending remorse for the death of the one she had sworn for decades to destroy. Instead, she kept her face carefully blank. She tried to suppress the surge of hunger that begged her to snatch the basket and devour the meat inside, instead accepting the basket from Shannon with slow, controlled hands. His words made her feel uneasy. She had been here so long, this was her nest now. The thought of being forced to leave was... uncomfortable. She realized how very little she knew about the culture of the humans. She knew the basic concept of money, of course, but she hadn't realized how deeply it controlled everything. That money was even necessary to keep her nest was deeply disturbing. Distasteful as it was, she may need this human's help, for a time. She stood aside, making room for him to enter if he chose. She could not bring herself to say the words to invite him in; that would be too much like acknowledging him as an equal.

[Lazybones]

"Thank you." Graciously stepping through the door, Shannon felt as if he'd walk into a warm, invisible wall. It gave him pause as he absorbed the unusual heat in the room; this occasionally happened in the garden room of the Valdinox manner, which had so many windows, but this apartment had only a single, small rectangular view of the other side of the canal.

The culprit was a small, iron hearth on the opposite end of the room. Someone had bought it specifically and installed it here, because the weather was always too pleasant for the NHC to include them with rent costs. Peculiar, that Mattieu's niece would have one.

She was quiet, the poor grieving woman, and difficult to read. If she was aware of the nature of the elder Kosun's work, then it made sense. Mattieu's career existed in shadows, and he did not keep pleasant friends. The woman was wise to be cautious. In all likelihood, Shannon was an enemy who came to pick at the bones of Mattieu's life, perhaps looking to exploit his only surviving family. It was perfectly reasonable, but for the uncommon warmth of the room, and that strange lisp. Shannon did not believe in coincidences.

"I lost my own mother when I was a boy, so I understand a bit of what you must be going through." Shannon told her softly, with a grain of sadness. It was forced. He was more interested in studying the room around him and all its niceties.

There were things out of place here. What caught his eye, more than anything, were the jagged shards of wood in a haphazard pile along the nearby wall. It looked like a crate had been smashed or torn apart violently. Suspicious, considering this home belonged to a man who had recently disappeared. There was a certain musk in the air as well, an unfamiliar scent that reminded him of the Kelvic Institute on the lakeshore.

"You seem nervous," he continued, his voice remaining warm though his smile evaporated. His gray-blue eyes were fixed on the mess of broken wood on the floor, trying to unravel its story. It meant something. He was sure of it. "You don't recognize me, and you don't know why a Valdinox would come to your home—you do know of the Valdinox Family, yes?" Rhysol help her if she didn't. Their family's matriarch was a Druvin, a steward of the Voice Herself. "It is smart to question your fortune, and I don't blame you. Your uncle kept unsavory company. I assure you, however, that I mean you no harm. You can relax."

Placing both hands on top of his cane, Shannon planted the instrument in front of him. He finally rotated his head and stopped staring at the debris, turning fully to Kosun's niece. "Let us start with the basics, shall we? You haven't introduced yourself, so what may I call you?" There was a heavy pause as Shannon looked down. A fingernail scratched at his cane. "And which of Mattieu's brothers do you belong to?"

[Iskessah]

Shannon's mention of his mother sent Iskessah's mind reeling with memories of her own mother, her true family. She had not thought of them since... she couldn't remember how long. It had been too painful, knowing she would never see them again. For a moment, real grief lighted her face. She tried to return to her previous impassive expression, but it was a full chime before she could shove the images of her mother and her nest back into the depths of her memories. At his claim that she seemed nervous, she flinched. Was she nervous? Should she be? She suspected that whatever the man expected her to be feeling, she was getting wrong. Fortunately, he was facing away from her at the time, and he continued on to explain why she shad reason to be nervous. The Valdinox family? Yes, she had heard of them, one of the four ruling families of Ravok, or something. Most of the details of Kosun's work were no more real to her than stories, trapped as she had been in this room, so it was difficult to remember everything she had learned about the city outside the door. Iskessah wordlessly declined Shannon's offer to relax. She simply watched him, unwilling to speak unless it was absolutely necessary. Unfortunately, when he asked her direct, non-rhetorical questions, it became necessary. No one had cared to know her name in more years than she cared to count. She briefly considered inventing a name, but without proper planning, that could backfire, badly. "My name," she said with dignity, "is Iskessah." Then he asked the question that set the trap; the most obvious trap of all time. If she made something up, he would probably catch her in the lie. Probably Mattieu had no siblings... but then how would he have a niece? Iskessah realized that this man knew what he was doing, and was far better prepared than she could possibly be. He would discover her, no doubt about that. The only question was, would she walk into his trap, or would she surprise him, regardless of the consequences? When she put it that way, the choice was obvious. "His ssissster," she answered, stumbling rather more badly than she'd intended on all of the s's. "Sshe died young."

[Lazybones]

Eyes still downcast, the corner of Shannon's mouth drew upward in a sly, entertained grin. A quieted laugh fluttered in his throat. "Interesting," he cooed cryptically, wondering how Iskessah must have been writhing beneath her skin. She was waiting to know whether she had chosen the correct answer. Shannon's thumb circled the shining head of his cane. "Here's the thing, Iskessah. My Matron, the Lady Valdinox, is a member of the Black Sun. She, and I through her, has access to the records of every Ravokian citizen living here on the lake. Mattieu has no niece listed at all. Technically, you don't exist. There is no one living in this apartment, but here you are."

Finally he looked up. The colorless rims of his eyes seemed to glimmer with razor sharp intent. The pleasant look on his face was no longer amicable, but predatory. He stood behind his cane still, a small barrier between them. It was a telling gesture; the canesword he possessed was his defense against whatever physical attack she might attempt. The way he treated it with such respect, such consciousness, might betray the concealed weapon's danger. It was intentional. The last thing Shannon wanted was to kill someone so interesting, this anomaly that shouldn't exist.

"So that begs the question, my dear: Who are you?" Picking up the cane in his right hand, Shannon dared a few steps closer. His eyes had drifted off of her, moving instead to study a tea kettle nearby. The smashed, wooden debris remained in the corner of his vision. "No need to play coy. I'm not the Black Sun, nor the Ebonstryfe. I am no interrogator. I'm not a thief, or a murderer, or a charlatan. I'm only a simple man with personal interests, and you're interesting."

Reaching a countertop, Shannon paused to study the lone teacup near the wash basin. He tipped it toward himself with a finger, getting a curious glimpse of the contents, or lack thereof. Though he appeared to wander idly, his was a position of leverage. He stood between Iskessah and the door to freedom. Not that it mattered. Where would she go?

"Though I do have family and roots here in Ravok, I'm not actually native to Sylira at all. I was born in a dusty, crumbling city out in the far off Eyktolian desert, called Ah-na-tep." Shannon enunciated the name slowly, his eyes flicking toward Iskessah. He was searching for crumbs of recognition. "Populated by the lovely many-armed Eypharians, mostly. There are humans, but they are often slaves, like I was. And then the Dhani. A charming, if elitist people. Serpentine, in their most natural state, but capable of polymorphing into various forms. "

Shannon turned and leaned against the counter at his waist. Again, his cane was planted beneath his feet. "Your lisp gives you away, I'm afraid. Although there are few in Ravok who would recognize it, it may be something you want to work on.

"Now again I ask: Who are you? And tell me what, precisely, happened to Mattieu Kosun. I suggest you choose your next words wisely."

[Iskessah]

Iskessah was not surprised he caught her in the lie. It has not been a very good one. Rather than panic, she simply waited for the Valdinox to get to his point. The conversation was becoming tedious, and she was tempted to just kill him and be done with it. But she was untrained in combat with this form, and it would take too long to regain her natural weapons. No, best to wait it out, and see how cleverly she could play the game. She almost stopped paying attention, her eyes losing focus, wondering what possible relevance Eyktol could have. But when she realized he was comparing her to the puny Vipers of that region, she could not stop the small noise of disdain which escaped her throat. Beyond that, she held her tongue. It would dishonor Siku to disparage her cousins in front of an outsider. As little as she liked this man, she still recognized good advice when she heard it. She knew well enough the contempt these human fools had for her kind. Siku would not have given her this form is she had not intended the Dhani to blend in with them, so it would perhaps be wise to learn to speak the Common tongue as humans spoke it. Iskessah's lips twitched upward at his latest demand, the closest she would come to a laugh for quite some time. She considered exactly what to tell him. She would not sell Angela out, for she was the only human Iskessah had any fondness for, like a favorite pet. She tried a fun trick that had been at the core of many of Mattieu and Angela's lessons: how to lie using only the truth. "He wass quite old. I ss-- certainly has nothing to do with his death." Shortening the 's' sounds was difficult, but not impossible if she concentrated. It would take time to be able to speak that way out of habit, but with practice she was sure she could manage it. "As for me, you sseem to know plenty. The interesting question is not what happened in the passt, but what will happen in the future." The more she spoke, the more she eased the rusty muscles of her voice. If this kept up, she might stop sounding like she was whispering all the time. On the down side, this was more talking at once than she had done in... well, ever. Her throat was starting to crack.

[Lazybones]

"Indeed," Shannon breathed in agreement, making a quiet note of Iskessah's subtle vocal distress. The woman was sly, a trait he liked, but was wary of. In this game of cat-and-mouse, both parties present thought themselves cats. Even if Shannon had the upper hand, Iskessah refused to see herself as the prey. She waiting for him to slip up, to turn his back, to show his weakness. It would be folly to think of her as a desperate, cornered animal. Shannon had to remind himself that she was hiding a pair of fangs.

Later, he would find out that the Dhani had different breeds among them, but he would have long forgotten his internal metaphors by then. For now, he certainly thought he was clever.

Iskessah had neither confirmed nor denied Shannon's accusation. Smart, but unnecessary. She was deluding herself, thining she stood half a chance at outwitting him, but Shannon was holding all the cards here. He couldn't decide whether her audacity was respectable, or merely adorable.

For a moment, Shannon thought of speaking Arumenic at her, to confirm her origins in Ahnatep. He had already pressed that angle though, and revealing some of his own origins would not help him, only her. She was right: this was about the future. Time to move on.

"More interesting for you than me." Shannon punctuated the mark with a light, false laugh—one intended for dinner parties and dreadful social functions. "I'm recently married, you see. My future is forfeit. You, on the other hand, have choices. What is your plan, Iskessah?" He withheld the urge to add a quip about that being her 'real name'. "What is a Dhani going to do in Ravok? It isn't warm enough here for you, is it? Are you going to masquerade as a human? What will you do when the NHC evicts you? When the Ebonstryfe questions you? I wager you'll end up either a slave or a well-used whore in a Black Sun oubliette."

He drummed his fingers on his cane. There was still the question of where she came from. She didn't have the black half-sun symbol burned into her hand, which more or less ruled her out as a slave. And, while Mattieu Kosun had no living relatives, he also owned no registered slaves. But, he was a secretive man. A purported assassin. It wouldn't be outrageous to think that she belonged to him. She might even actually be his niece after all. She hadn't denied it.

While there was no question that Iskessah's purposes here were murky and dark, there was no record of her origin that he knew of. If she was a sleuth or a spy, she was a very bad one to get caught after Kosun's disappearance. There were a few possibilities, but Shannon wouldn't allow himself to speculate until he knew the woman's intent.

"Please, tell me your ideas. I do loathe impudent silence." Shannon leaned back on his elbow, tipping his cane forward.