Jackal at the Door (Cyrah & Ifran)

[Ifran]

"Done," he said immediately, straightening and dropping his arms. Though he spoke in Common for her benefit, his tone and body language clearly indicated both disgust and indignation. "Have a seat." He walked over to a wall, caressed a bare expanse of dark purple Eyktolian marble, which somehow induced it to open. Taking out six leather pouches--the leather so fine they were probably worth nearly one hundred mizas in addition to the coin--and set them on the tray with the food and drink he assumed she had brought. "Let's talk." Those two words carried the weight of too many other words to count.

[Cyrah]

“You're paying me not to kill you,” she pointed out. A swift shift of her heels, and she'd slithered backwards, off the desk, to stand across it from him. The blade vanished up her sleeve, though nothing about her posture said she was unable to cause him serious physical harm even without it. Her eyes remained focused on him, and his many hands, and she didn't take a seat, as he'd suggested. Instead, she simply eyed him over the tops of the six leather pouches. They could be consolidated into one larger pouch, said the contemplative arch of her eyebrow. “Not to talk.” She heard the weight in his words; he'd have to pay extra if he wanted information. Nothing was free, not in this city.

[Ifran]

"And yet we are talking," he observed coolly. "And what will it cost me to talk? I suppose refreshment and good company are not salable commodities in these negotiations." There was a hint of humor to deflect attention from the probing. He was at least safe from his enemy's ire at this point, but if he offended her, she might just do the job for her own sake. This was unacceptable. He sat on a green silk divan and watched her. There was still a tension, a readiness in him, but nothing like her full battle-readiness. She reminded him of wild things and passions that hid under the surface in Eypharian society. He almost smiled. Almost.

[Cyrah]

She watched him so closely that she might have been memorizing him. The curves of his body and where the tension lived in his muscles, which hands he favored most and the expression on his face when he looked at her. Wild things, certainly, the comparison was appropriate. There was a ferocity to her that spoke of the uncivilized, the unpredictable, and a determination in her eyes that she held in check, a true desire to rip him to pieces whether or not they were presently negotiating. When Cyrah decided to take a contract, to take a life, she rarely changed her mind. "800 gold mizas for the name of my contractor, and even more than that if you expect me to turn around and kill said individual instead of you," she said.

[Ifran]

Considering his options for a moment, he made a decision. It might be the right one, or the wrong one, or somewhere in between. He looked at her frankly, blue eyes to silver. "I do not require your services with regard to death tonight, but for two hundred mizas more, we will have to meet again another time. How shall we communicate?"

[Cyrah]

The woman shifted, and her movements were so fluid that it would have been impossible to tell where one thought ended, and one began. The blade flickered, scything into the fabric of the outer skirt of the gown she wore, ripping through it as she spoke. "I don't interact with clients. You can find my proxy and make arrangements." The swatch of fabric she ripped free became a make-shift satchel, as she tied it at one end so it pillowed. Her eyes stayed trained on the Eypharian as she loaded the bags of gold into its belly. "Since I very much doubt that it'll be you who asks anyway. The Pillars of Dust. Ask for Anubis, and someone will direct you. Or whomever. My contracts are arranged thus." Never in person, and never directly. Cyrah weighed her contracts very carefully, on her own time, and no stuffed Eypharian peacock was going to change the style and mode of her business. Slinging the satchel over her shoulder, she took steps backwards towards the window without looking away from him.

[Ifran]

"Very well," he said, amused as much as he respected her for her principles. "Anubis of the Pillars." He could sense her judgment and she was right: he would not contact her directly, but for her to judge him on that account was hypocrisy, for she followed the same modus operandi, and that made him both appreciative and wary. "Until then."

[Cyrah]

If she was judging him, it wasn't because he wouldn't meet her in person. That she understood, and preferred, because whatever this Northwinder's flaws or faults, they in no way detracted from his notable intelligence and strength. Cyrah had no desire to end up into another tangle with him, not any time soon, anyway. No, she much preferred to take his coin and settle her scores a different way. That she was flexible, adaptable, well, it was the best way to survive. That and being cautious, which she held to tightly in the Eypharian's presence. Curiosity got the jackal's neck snapped, and all. So whatever interest she might have had in him, she squelched. "Have a nice night, Lord Ifran." One could easily imagine the smirk hidden behind the veil she wore, as she climbed up into the window's frame. A lingering glance at him, and then out the window she went.

[Ifran]

"And to you, Anubis," he said quietly before from the window to tidy up the room. Though his grandfather ran a tight ship, even the servants of the House of the North Winds might tell tales, and Ifran did not want to be responsible for any tales he could not control. As he performed these menial tasks, his mind cycled through possible enemies with the nerve and the intelligence to send one such as Anubis after him. At the same time, he looked at his encounter with the assassin from as many angles as his brain could manage. Out of curiosity, he wondered if she had killed anyone to get to him. And that was when he heard the first scream. END OOC Note: -600 gm Ifran; +600 gm Cyrah

[Spavento]

Cyrah +2 Stealth +2 Disguise +2 Weapon Skill: Dagger +2 Negotiation Lore: Northwind Residence (Ifran's Quarters) Ifran +3 Unarmed Combat +2 Negotiation +2 Rhetoric +2 Interrogation Lore: "Anubis, of the Pillars" Additional notes: Great scene guys. You captured a really action packed moment of conflict, and I was riveted by the tension between the two characters. Obviously make the note of the exchange of the 600 GM from Ifran to Cyrah.