An Unwelcome Guest... [Cassandra]

[Syndre]

Time Stamp -=30th of Spring, 511 AV=-
Location -=Tarsin's Boarding House=-

The lengthy hallway was void of any inhabitants, for the hour was late and

most of Ravok's citizens had already retired for the evening. A shaded figure
had slipped up the flight of stairs that led to the second floor of Tarsin's
immense establishment, creeping along unnoticed like a living shadow. Strapped
and buckled boots worked toe to heel against the wooden floor boards, creating
only a miniscule measure of sound with each step. The black attired man moved
with a fluid purpose, closing in on a particular door that he had visited many
times since the beginning of Spring. The locked entrance led to Cassandra Coven's
personal chambers, a simple room she had recently purchased.

Syndre carefully slid the single strap of his ebon pack down the curve of

his rounded shoulder, quietly setting the black stained bag upon the floor in
front of the wooden barrier. Cobalt orbs quickly examined the key hole positioned
above the knob, his kneeling form calmly composed as his gloved hands dipped into
the confines of his pack. The rogue produced three slender rods, each iron tool
designed differently to serve a specific purpose. After setting one of the picks
between his clenching teeth, the thief began to work with the remaining two. He
slid the strangely curved pieces into the average lock, manifesting a series of
clicks as the picks searched for the proper mechanism.

A single bead of sweat formed upon the surface of his forehead, the mixture

of deep concentration and slight nervousness bringing the drop of perspiration
into existence. His breathing was controlled, slowly expanding and deflating his
lungs while listening intently to the faint sounds emitting from the key hole.
Once he had heard simultaneous double click, the rogue froze the intricate
ministrations of his leathery digits. He held his breath at this point, for the
procedure to come was difficult and couldn't be performed without much practice.
Fortunately Syndre had bought a similar lock to protect his meager possessions,
and he routinely attempted to perfect his style of picking.

His coated thumb pressed firmly against the first tool as his left hand

twisted strategically around, allowing the index finger on the same hand to
stretch over to the second iron pick. Applying pressure to both to keep either
rod firmly in place, his right hand was now able to slip away and retrieve the
third pick that he had been biting down on. With steady precision, Syndre laced
the final piece directly between the spread of the other picks. A mischievous
smile graced his pale visage as the miniature hook caught the correct lever, a
satisfying metallic tick announcing his success. After taking a quick peak over
his dark clothed shoulder, Syndre eased his thieves' picks from the conquered
lock and returned them to the sack lying before him.

His head tilted deeply from right to left, receiving a series of comforting

cracks from his twisting spine. With his ego inflated, the intruding rogue rose
from his kneel with his pack in hand and opened the door to Cassandra's chambers.
The lovely barmaid would be free of her tending duties very soon, Syndre knew
this from his frequent stalking. Not only did he want to make sure Cassandra was
holding up her end of the deal, he also desired to know where she lived incase he
was forced to exact any punishment upon her. He had no plans to entertain himself
in that manner this evening, he simply wanting to... discuss business. Stepping
into the darkness that lurked in her home, the rogue would wait patiently for
her arrival from the Tavern.

[Cassandra Coven]

It was past midnight when Cassandra finally got out of the tavern, leaving before the place closed for the night, which would be a couple of hours yet. She had already pulled double shifts this day, taking over the duties of one of the other serving girls who could not make it to work. Normally she would not venture out into the street so late at night but her home was just across the plaza and she felt it safe enough since she was within sight of the apartment block's guard. Of course, that guard was asleep at his post beside the door, a fact the weary woman failed to notice as she stepped inside the building. Several candles lit the lobby, illuminating the work being done by the landlord on his ledger. The man seemed to be absorbed in what he was doing, sitting all stooped and crooked over the books. He did not even respond when Cassandra gave him a tired greeting. Remembering how he had behaved when she first came in to rent a room, Cassandra did not find his lack of reaction unusual. The old man tended to avoid acknowledging her even when they bump into each other in the hallway so it was nothing knew to her. In truth, the man had already dozed off in his seat, just like the guard outside. As Cassandra made her way to the second level, she fished out the key to her apartment room from the pocket of her apron and moved to insert it in the keyhole. To her surprise, the door swung open freely before she could turn the key. She could have sworn she had locked it before she left that morning. Did someone come in to visit and borrowed a key from downstairs? Perhaps Keating? A faint smile curved Cassandra's lips. Sometimes, the man could be insatiable! Pushing the door a little bit wider, Cassandra peered into the room. It was dark, and there did not seem to be anyone inside. The open window that allowed in the pale light of the moon revealed nothing to her. Perhaps Keating grew tired of waiting. It was rather late. She would just have to make it up to him some other day. Closing and bolting the door behind her, Cassandra was fully enveloped by the darkness. For a moment she considered lighting a candle so she could take her night clothes from the dresser and switch to something fresher but immediately discarded the idea. She was too tired to bother right now. Taking off her apron and hanging it on the backrest of one of the chairs, the dark-haired woman moved to climb in on her bed. She did not notice the figure that stood in the deepest shadows of her room.

[Syndre]

The shadow cloaked intruder stood against the wall that her bed was

positioned upon, the width of his upper back pressing firmly along the smooth
surface. Leather coated digits curled gently over either pointed elbow with his
gauntlet strapped forearms crossing just beneath the rise of his chest. His
existence remained hidden during Cassandra's entry to her personal chambers,
those wonderfully blue eyes keeping track of her shapely silhouette as it moved
about the dark room. It must have been a long night at the Tavern, for she
skipped the process of getting comfortable and simply slipped her curvaceous
figure over the soft material of her sheets. He watched her nestle snuggly
against the comfy fabric, her weary body looking forward to a much needed rest.

She was a fascinating creature, but the reason behind the fascination

was still a mystery to him. There was something more than just the physical
attraction, half of the men in Ravok probably felt the same way he did when in
her presence. No, there was something more. She wasn't the typical barmaid that
struggled to make a living in the city, and the night he had spied her killing a
man was a testament to that fact. Evil lurked in her soul as it did within his
own, and her innocent facade did not fool the cunning rogue. There was more to
her than being a servant to blackmail. Cassandra held secrets that Syndre desired
to uncover, so much so that he would do whatever necessary to discover them. She
was a beautifully wicked puzzle, one that this disciple of Akajia would solve
with enough time.

"Knowing where you live makes it easy to my eyes on you...,"

his familiar voice cut thru silence that had settled in the unlit chamber. No
longer leaning his lengthy frame against the wall, the swift thief was already
at the edge of her bed. Everyone reacted differently to an intrusion into their
personal space, usually violently after the initial surprise wore thin. He would
not give her the chance to draw any hidden blades on him, for soon after his
startling voice had touched her ears he quickly joined her upon the cushioned
piece of furniture. There would be a bit of a struggle once she felt the touch
of his leathery hands, but he was confident that he would be able to subdue her
through sheer strength. The brief tussle that ensued brought an excited smile to
his shaded visage, a smile that she wouldn't be able to discern through the
darkness that sat heavily in the room.

When the wrestling match lingered longer than he initially expected,

Syndre was forced to introduce iron to the escalating situation. Triggering the
mechanism that shot the concealed spring from its locked position, the aggressive
rogue summoned forth his deadly stiletto blade from the confines of his right
gauntlet. The soft clicks and sliding metal could be heard over their increased
breathing, letting Cassandra know that the presence of a knife was now in play.
The weight of his body pushing down against her own made it difficult for her
to defend against the thin shard of iron, its dangerously sharp tip inching
downward toward her beautiful countenance. He could feel the barmaid's arms
trembling beneath his own as he forced the extracted blade closer and closer,
ever so slowly bringing the metallic point toward her delicate skin.

[Cassandra Coven]

Cassandra had started to drift off to sleep as soon as her head touched the pillow. The mattress was soft, the blanket warm, and her bed lulled her to peaceful slumber in its embrace. She thought she was dreaming when a familiar voice cut through the air, and unconsciously, she began to settle back as she prepared to see what the dream may bring. But the voice was something she knew was not welcomed. Though she had only heard it on one occassion, Cassandra's mind had marked it as a source of danger. It was one she knew she would not enjoy hearing while in bed. Through the the encroaching haziness that was already threatening to engulf her consciousness, a single thought broke through: she was not alone in her home. Cassandra's eyes shot open and she immediately spotted the intruder looming over her, his identity already revealed by the words he spoke but a second ago. As her eyes widened even further at the reality of his presence, Cassandra's hand shot to her hip, where the stiletto dagger she kept hidden there remained strapped. Her first instinct was not to scream, for she knew her situation was past that point, but rather to just stab at this man who had broken into the safety and sanctity of her home. Her heart, thumping like a series of fast drumbeats, willed her to pull her dagger free and bury its blade within his flesh. She was not fast enough. Gloved hands wrapped steely fingers around her wrists, stopping the downward descent of the one aiming to draw her dagger while pinning the other one near her shoulder. The man leaned into her, using his weight to press and trap her onto the bed. Cassandra's eyes widened in terror. He meant to rape her! Or kill her! Or both - who knew? Logic did not matter then, only escape. In desperation, she began to thrash about, bringing forth never before used weapons to bear in her bid for freedom: long nails acted as talons as she tried claw at the man's face, knees folded and jerked up in an attempt to hit him in a sensitive spot, and at one point, her teeth came into play as she tried to latch on to an exposed ear. Like a wild animal, she sought to be free of his hold. Muscles on her slender frame strained in her struggles until her arms were sore, and the skin on her wrists chaffed from being squeezed too tightly against the material of her own gloves, and a stitch began to throb on the side of her abdomen. Fatigue began to set in as seconds turned to minutes in her effort to push the man away, her adrenaline bleeding away. The man must have grown frustrated with her ceaseless attempts to free herself from his grasp and he brought his own weapon into play. The sound of a blade sliding free from its holding mechanism sliced through the air, giving Cassandra pause. The sound heralded her defeat. She knew she could not fight anymore, not with naked steel inching ever so close to her face. "What...what do you want?" she whispered fearfully, her breath coming out in short gasps. her chest was heaving, the press of his body making it even more difficult for her to take air in. "I-I did what you wanted..." Her mind raced as she thought of the possible reasons why this man would break into her house and do this to her. He could have just as easily obtained the names of the buyers of his drug by asking her in the tavern. This man...He... Cassandra did not even know his name. She forced herself to relax into his hold, hoping he would let her go now that the fight was out of her. He had already shown his dominance - just like their first meeting - she could not, would not fight him now, just as she could not when they first met.

[Syndre]

She could hear his amusement throughout their intense struggle in the

form of a quiet laughter, the wicked sound barely audible thru their heavy
breathing and effort influenced grunting. His excitement was evident, though not
so much that he seemed overjoyed or crazed. The harder she fought, the more
he enjoyed the fight for dominance against her supple form. She was wise not to
scream for any assistance, for if she had he would of silenced her through more
physical and violent means. The resounding release of his spring launched stiletto
had pretty much quelled her resistance to his aggression, leaving her strained
body vulnerable beneath him. Cassandra couldn't make out any facial details of
her assailant in the thick darkness, but she was easily able to determine her
attacker by the sound of his calm voice and the soft contact of his lengthy
braids against her face.

"Did you really think a single favor would send me on my way?...,"

the rogue asked in a hushed tone, responding to her question with one of his own.
The dull edges of his spring blade were snuggly held between a pair of gloved
digits, the needle-like point of the unique knife coming to rest beneath the
edge of her jaw. The secretive weapon didn't serve the purpose of a normal dagger,
since either side of the thin blade couldn't even cut a fresh loaf of bread. The
coil pushed knife was instead created to stab, and with its malicious apex held
under the bone line of her jaw, he could viciously shove the puncturing piece of
iron up into the recesses of her mouth. The injury wouldn't be life threatening,
but it could cause extreme levels of agony. The barmaid's decision to cease her
struggling saved her from such a gruesome display, her reluctant obedience keeping
the precarious shard of oily metal from being shoved inward.

"Consider me your shadow...," his haunting whisper was now felt against

her beautiful visage in the form of heated breath, the proximity of his mouth
obviously closer than it was during their brief grappling. A shifting of his
lean frame was felt against her lying body as he began to straddle her, the
sharpened point of his iron forged dagger remaining against her flesh while
executing the more strategic position. For as tall as the young thief was his
limber form weighted less than most men his size, so when he sat down upon the
expanse of her stomach she didn't feel completely compressed. The rounded curve
of his shrouded knees slid firmly against her armpits, pushing her small shoulders
upward so that she would have some difficulty using her arms to further defend
herself. Once he was satisfied with his mounted position, his glazed pools of
glossy blue stared down upon the outline of her shaded countenance.

"I have some questions for you... and if I feel your answers hold

no truth... I will make my visit long and unpleasant...," the whispered threat
dripped with venom, though it was spoken with words that could sooth a rabid
animal. Syndre's unusual flow of emotions and sometimes confusing actions were
majorly influenced by the constant consumption of Sylirian herbs, which left the
rogue extremely unpredictable. Cassandra had no trouble sensing the strong aroma
of scented smoke upon the rogue's clothing and breath. She wasn't dealing with
your average Ravokian cutthroat this night, she was in the presence of a man that
was dreaming awake. His clouded state of mind could possibly favor her survival,
or could just as easily bring about her demise. Her wit and resolve would be put
to the test whenever she had the displeasure of encountering this strange vagabond.

"We'll start simple... who is the man that has been visiting your

chambers on a regular basis?...," his first question was probably one that she
did not expect and possibly one that she didn't want to answer since she cared for
the person he spoke of. Before she could express any reluctance, the overly
sharp point of his thin knife pushed slightly upward, poking the outer surface of
her smooth skin inward along the underside of her jaw. He could not see if he
had drawn blood in the swarming darkness, though it didn't matter if he did or not.
The slow advance of his blade was intended to be intimidating. He wanted her to
know that this was indeed a serious situation, and that spouting anything that he
deemed a lie would result in probable disfigurement of her gorgeous features. It
would be in Cassandra's best interest to tell the truth, or do a damn good job
lying.

[Cassandra Coven]

Despite expressing her submissiveness to him by ceasing her struggles, the man did not relent in his press against Cassandra's body. If anything, her stillness gave him the chance to properly mount her, straddling her stomach which served to further trap her in the prone position. The dark-haired woman felt herself sink lower into the matrress with the man's added weight on top of her. His knees forced her arms up as they settled beneath her armpit, making the position very awkward for the poor woman. And above it all, the threat of the man's cruel blade lingered near her neck, its sharp point like a deadly kiss as it pricked into her soft skin. Settled comfortably above her while she was forced to look up at him, the man began to interrogate her. Contrary to the forcefulness he had subjected her to, his voice was even and measured - deceptively calm and hypnotic, like the swaying movement of an asp before it struck. The very nature of it made Cassandra's heart hammer in her chest, so much so that she thought the man could feel every beat of it as well. The smell of the drug he made her distribute was strong on him, and the woman's senses could not help but be drawn to it. Cassandra licked her lips, as if in anticipation of being able to smoke a pinch of it. She was not yet at the stage where she craved for it, but her body knew to react so something it she had grown a liking for. She swallowed the desire away, focusing instead on the man's words, knowing her very survival depended on it. His first question surprised her, for he asked about Keating! It revealed to her that he had been watching her home for a while now, perhaps since the day she moved in. Her first instinct was to lie, to protect the identity of the man she cared for, but even as the urge to do so sprung in her mind, the man inched his dagger up the soft underside of her jaw, a reminded that any form of deception would be met with dire consequences. Cassandra was forced to thrust her chin up the air, to avoid the blade penetrating her skin. The injury the man threatened to inflict would not be fatal, but it would be horrible to behold, and might even puncture her tongue and go through the roof of her mouth. Just thinking about it made her skin crawl. "He's...he's just someone who enjoys my company," Cassandra said through stiff lips. She did her best not to move her jaw, fearing that any overt movement might cause the blade to leave a hole in her throat. Remembering Keating's brawny physique, she doubted the man's strength could hold a candle against her well-built lover. Perhaps him to quell the man from using more violence on her. Maybe the threat of retribution from Keating would even ward him away from her. "He would not appreciate what...what you're doing right now," she continued, her voice becoming a bit more steady and gaining a certain amount of confidence with each word she spoke. Yes, Keating could certainly take care of this man! She had watched the other patrons whenever Keating was around there drinking, and nobody dared cross someone so intimidating. Not since that incident with the masked man several season's ago. "You...you better not harm me if you know what's good for you!" Cassandra regretted saying the taunt as soon as it left her lips. She was vulnerable and who knew if the man was unstable? He might shove the blade so far up her chin for the insult that it would pierce her brain and that would be the end of her. But she was under duress and fearful, she could not think straight. It was too late to take back the words that have been said, however.

[Syndre]

His azure voids closed at the sound of her voice, for there was

something about her that drove his senses aflame. Syndre took great pride in
breaking the wills of others, especially women. Perhaps this was the reason he
felt the way he did around her, because she was such a defiant woman. She created
a confusing atmosphere that kept the game entertaining, shifting her unique
demeanor from brazen disregard to complete obedience, then back to a threatening
disposition. She had an unnatural aura of seduction that he swore he could feel
even without any physical contact, as if she was manifesting an unseen apparition
of desire that could lead any man from his train of thought. Whether this sensuous
force was gifted to her by the Gods or she was just that alluring, Syndre had a
difficult time controlling his emotions in her presence. Breaking her completely
would surely be an enjoyable challenge.

He had indeed been stalking her, probably more so than the other

targeted citizens on his lengthy watch list. The intimidating stranger that she
had just used to threaten him with was also on that list, hence the malicious
interrogation. Perhaps it was just curiosity, perhaps it had something to do
with jealousy, whatever the reason Syndre wanted information about this man and
he was determined to get it tonight. Though info about Keating was of personal
importance to the dark hearted thief, it was not all he was after this evening.
An uncomfortable pause followed her threat and with the reopening of his
brilliant blue pools, Syndre bent his limber torso downward. The smooth surface
of his forehead pressed against her own, the firm pressure pinning her head back
against the soft cushion of her bed. The tip of his thin stiletto remained
steady below her jaw.

"It would be in your best interest to remember... and remember well...

that your hero isn't here to save you tonight...," his herb scented whisper
finally broke the silence, the heat of his breath playing against the soft skin
of her face. She could feel a faint quiver begin to work over Syndre's leather
shrouded hand, the sharp apex of his knife vibrating slightly against her
exposed flesh. "Now... give me his name... or I am going to make our time
together... a little more interesting...," his calm tone was unnerving, and as
his whisper faded into silence she could feel the trembling blade regain a more
steady composure. A warm release of air bathed her beautiful countenance one
last time before her intruder lifted his head away from hers, the slithering
length of his black stained braids trailing over the curve of her flushed cheeks.

Syndre regained his fully mounted position over the submissive woman,

the leather engulfing his tightening digits creaking as he rose. With a tenacious
hold upon the stiletto's hilt, he eased the needle-like point from the surface of
her skin and began to run the purposely dulled edge down the center of her slender
throat. A red irritated line trailed behind the descending shank, the unsharpened
edge leaving its mark though it never actually broke the outer layer of her sun
kissed flesh. The iron crafted dagger slipped slowly down the hollow of her
throat and rose to the base of her neck, the cool metal suddenly stopping an
inch below her defined collar bone. The darkness that engulfed her room was
thick enough to leave them both partially blinded, though they could feel one
another's movements through the close contact of their bodies. It was a stirring
encounter to say the least, with either individual's heart pounding for different
reasons.

[Cassandra Coven]

The kiss of the cold, uncaring steel as the man traced its tip from her jaw to the small hollow between her collar bone made Cassandra's skin crawl. Her dark eyes were large and full of fear as she stared at the nearly imperceptible silhouette of her antagonist, searching for anything that would give her some clue as to what his disposition was. While she was adept at reading people through their body language, it was more than a little difficult gauging what people were really thinking and feeling when going by the sound of their voice alone. It was next to impossible, however, when it was the man before her she had to deal with. The drug he had imbibed simply made him too unstable to read. It left Cassandra feeling terrified that she did not know what to expect from him. She was thankful that the man had not truly hurt her yet, and this gave her some measure of hope. It meant he still wanted something from her, or she was still more useful to him alive than dead. She was resolved to take any small blessing she could get, and even as the man spoke to her again, the dark haired woman stifled a sigh of relief. "K-Keating. His name is Keating," she said honestly, not really finding any reason not to give her lover's name. That the man would not stab her for doing so was only added incentive not to lie. "P-please, you...you don't have to use your b-blade. We can just talk, I...I'll tell you what you want to know." Slowly, carefully so that her movements would not be mistaken as if she was trying to escape, Cassandra wiggled from her prone position and tried to create a little bit of space to ease the pressure on her shoulders. The man's knees still stretched her arms out to the side and they were now beginning to ache. Still, even from the awkward placement of her arms, she reached out a gloved hand and settled it on his thigh, the touch conveying her agreement to cooperate. "Please..." Deliberately, she began to run her hand from the middle of the man's thigh to his knee, each light caress an encouragement for him to relent.

[Verilian]

Syndre +1 Stealth +1 Larceny +1 Observaton +1 Brawling +1 Dagger +2 Intimidation +2 Interrogation Lores: Picking a simple Lick, Forcing a woman into Submission Cassandra Coven +1 Brawling +1 Intimidation +1 Seduction +1 Manipulation Lores: An Unwelcome Guest, Submitting to an Intruder You Question My Logic? : Any questions, send me a PM. Notes: Always sad to see a good thread die. But good job, guys, with what was written!