Under My Skin

[kleineklementine]

“Alright, one more hit.”

Sweat beaded on the young Blood Wolf’s skin. Her muscles ached, her lungs stung with effort, and she was bruised by more than one hit from her opponent. But she didn’t pack it in. It took more than a few hits and pulled muscles to get Zahi Akello to stand down. At twenty-three, she had already distinguished herself as a serious fighter, a dogged worker, and a ruthless and no-nonsense assassin and Blood Wolf. For her first few years in the Wolves, she’d been a Scavenger, picking pockets and committing petty theft with the other kids. But it wasn’t her forte, and she had gotten into a dozen fights or so before she was plucked from the Scavengers by the Red Jackal and her Blood Wolf training began. When the Red Jackal brought her over, Zahi had been a half-feral, feisty thing who hadn’t lacked blood or vinegar, but definitely lacked discipline. That had changed over the intervening years. Now Zahi had distinguished herself as one of the most tireless and disciplined Blood Wolves. Most of the time.

So when Clarion, the older Blood training hand-to-hand with her, told her to hit again, she hit again. Zahi struck out at Clarion, getting a good hit on his left jaw. But the older Blood was more experienced, even if Zahi was more dogged, and in a few moves he laid her out flat.

Zahi lay wheezing up on the floor, looking up at a grinning Clarion. “Gotta keep at it, Akello. Can’t let someone catch you off guard.”

[Echtronis]

Laughter broke out from Old Galen, who sat at the other end of the unofficial training hall on a linen-covered crate next to Bujari, the Animus shaking his head to the young Yoreiq Blood Wolf. "It's not my place to hold opinion on the ethics of your professionalism, Bujari, but if it were, I would wonder how you did not worry of being caught with her after the job was done with the merchant just down the hall?"

Bujari, in these days decorated with wild, colorful painted designs from his homeland along his bare arms and shoulders, rested with an arm hooked on the wooden dummy he had practiced with, right hand on his cord-strung breeches as he cooled down from his exercise, his smile almost oddly bright. "Eets not like da merchant was ta be gettin' up anehtime soon, ya? Eet be part ahv mah job anehway - Da maid must ahv 'eard da ruckus, ah taught eet were bettah ah made 'er forget dan jus' keel 'er."

Old Galen eyed the assassin curiously with a quiet sip of his medicinal tea, Bujari had wandered his eyes to Zahi and Clarion. "Right, with your... curious magic. What did Carraway think about your choice there?"

Bujari made a displeasured "tch" sound to the question, not moving his eyes from the sparring Bloods. "'E don't know, job be done ahn such. Not da way 'e would ahv liked, but eet be suspicious at times to alwehs jus' run out like a scared rat wit' stolen cheese. Ah learn much from 'im, but one day ah will be teachin' 'im ah t'ing er two."

The animus sobered a bit at the statement. Though by Soot law he could not involve himself in the shifting, quite literally cutthroat politics of the Blood Wolves, such words were dangerous. "You think yourself so confident in that?"

Bujari gave a wicked smirk. "Alwehs be lookin' fer weakness, das 'is own trainin', nuttin' moah, old man." he nodded his head to Zahi and Clarion as Zahi was put to the floor. "Like dis bitch 'ere." Bujari stood up straight and called out to the bloods. "Oa! Akello! Ya be tinkin' yer gonna be a killah lyin' on yer back wit' yer legs up, ya should be trainin' wit me!"

[kleineklementine]

Zahi didn't mind being bested by a better fighter. How else was she going to improve herself? So she had no anger towards Clarion for laying her out and knocking the wind out of her. The first thing she thought once she'd caught her breath was that she'd have to ask how he'd done it. But that thought was rudely interrupted.

And in terrible Common.

She threw a dark glance over to the hulking Yoreiqi. Bujari had joined the Wolves a few years after she had, and in that time her feelings about him have ranged as far as going from 'obnoxious' to 'gross,' and back again. He wasn't bad at his job, to which she had to afford some very grudging respect, But he was cocky, over-confident, and, in her opinion, sloppy. And, of course, gross. If she'd been listening, the story just related to the Animus would have been case in point.

Zahi leapt back to her feet, ignoring Clarion for the moment to shoot Bujari a coolly dismissive look. She shook her head as if trying to get water from her ears, then tilted it towards him. "Sorry, what was that? I can't understand that garbled island speak of yours."

[Echtronis]

Bujari almost always had at least a grin on his face, his overconfidence in his youth and unyielding pleasure with his successes in his new career with the Soots hardly ever failed to show through into his countenance, but that wiped the smile off his face. Everyone knew the devil-eyed scrapper at least by reputation. Bujari himself once helped attend to an utterly smashed-in nose of one the Coyote's people after some spat regarding her time with them. Hardly ever slipping into the reluctant camaraderie even the more private wolves found themselves in on occasion, Zahi was one of the least enjoyable people in this den of thieves and murderers, almost never considering anything beyond the work, and preparing for the work, and preparing for what comes next, and so on in her cold, autonomous, bitter way, and damned be anyone to question her about it. For this, he wasn't surprised to hear her snap a retort to him, but something about the mocking way she insulted his manner of speech in front of the others sparked a short-sighted need to be more confrontational than he intended to be. Ignoring the telling sigh from Old Galen, Bujari slipped away from the training dummy and stepped towards her, his bulging arms fanning out with open hands as if to suggest the subject was helpless. "Mah sorrehs fer mah accent, ah forget eet can be challengin' ta some dat 'ave slowah 'eads fer listenin'. Ya be soundin' like yer accent be, what, Zanti er somet'ing? Dat would explain yer shit mannah ahv fightin', Zantis fight like shit, be bettah off lying on d'er backs fer da takin' too. Dat 'ow ya got inta da Bloods in da first place?"

Clarion just simply stared at Bujari in the wide-eyed way one looks at another who confoundingly invites their own demise.

[kleineklementine]

“Watch your temper, Akello,” Clarion muttered next to her, sensing the oncoming escalation, “it’s not always your friend.”

It was a laughable idea, that Zahi had ‘slept her way’ into the Bloods. If there was anything she was known for other than being serious, dogged, and often dangerous… it was having her legs firmly closed. Though few, if any, would ever say it when she was around to hear! But the comments struck home for Zahi. Not because of anything that happened in the Soot Wolves, but because of her last ‘job.’ In Zantaric, when she had been sleeping with the boss. Or, more accurately, the boss had been sleeping with her. Zahi had left all of that behind, very intentionally, and she doubted the painted oaf knew anything about it. But Bujari’s comment still hit a little too close to the mark.

“And here I thought fucking your way through work was your specialty. Some grand island tradition. I suppose it makes sense, running around fucking each other, when you don’t have any proper language. How else are you meant to communicate? That’s right, isn’t it? It’s a wonder Old Galen over there taught you to speak at all. I suppose we all owe him a great debt of gratitude, considering the alternative.”

[Echtronis]

Bujari's lips twisted up tight, turning his head just a small amount as if her words were obnoxiously loud to him, but his eyes never left, only one cheek pushed up like a shield to his eye with the grimace. Had he been more playful and less brashly vindictive that night, he might have had a good laugh at the words; there was always something good to say about the philosophy of sex after all, but perhaps it was his preconceptions of the girl that made this tongue lashing feel so wrong. Bujari felt that this was supposed to be an easy target for provocation, why is she speaking so openly now? More to the point, why hadn't she just thrown a punch at him like she's known to do with the others? Nothing about it felt right, and that doubt disarmed him for just a fleeting moment,  and he actually felt embarrassed about his late learnings of Common, but quickly he pushed that thought right the hell down. Who the fuck does she think she is?

Clearly displaying his irritation, he thew a dismissive hand at her. "And what good be yer perfect little mainlandah tonguin' fer ya when ya got nottin' wort' sayin', fool girl? Alwehs sulkin' 'round da den nevah sayin ah word outside da business like yer some kind ah killy spirit ahv fuck-da-livin' like ya got somet'in' ta prove ta daddeh back whatevah shit-fer-fightin' Zanti alley ya muddah spat ya out from. Ya be creepin' out even Smilin' Jin, and dat fuckah's a mute!" Here Bujari gave the briefest pauses, almost long enough to give someone an impression that it might have been their time to speak, and perhaps Clarion had been trying to cut in the whole time, but the painted man wouldn't even hear him. "So, 'ere be why ah ask; since ya act out like ya not'in' more outside da work, how it be ya let even Clari beat ya down time ahn time again? Unless," his grin came back. "Ya not be sucha 'ardass as ya be t'inkin', and yer bitchin' at me like dis 'cause ya need a good island fuckin' 'tween dem dusty legs? Cause ah do 'ave a specialty as ya say, but ya got a funneh way ahv askin', Ahhhkello..." with his mocking over-exaggeration of his accent with her name, Bujari looked rather please with himself as he did moments ago, and made a move as if he were about to walk away but pausing like he had misheard something that had yet to be said.

[kleineklementine]

A year ago, Zahi would have already hit Bujari. Keeping that temper under control had been a big part of her training as a Blood. And at first she thought she might hit him now, anger flaring as he dismissed her as a 'fool girl.' As though he were so much older and more experienced than her. Bull shit. But her hard, angry glare actually turned into something more amused as he continued on. Oh, his summary of her wasn't entirely accurate - she did, in fact, have some friends in the Wolves outside of business and training. But what struck Zahi more was how quickly Bujari had come up with all that. Clearly it wasn't the first time he'd thought of it.

So she listened to the rest of his rant with a cooler head, eyebrows raised slightly in an unimpressed amusement. Pah, why 'she was bitching at him.' As though he hadn't started the altercation. And if he expected to fluster her with talk of fucking, he'd be disappointed. Zahi might not put out around the Den, but she wasn't the prude Bujari apparently took her for. She'd grown up in a brothel, for Kia's sake. Figured the Yoreiq man would think anyone not begging for his dick was a prude. That didn't surprise Zahi one bit.

"You mean I'm not too proud to learn from experienced fighters. You're right there. We can't all lazily fall back on sheer bulk and voodoo." That wasn't really fair, and she knew it, but Zahi didn't really care. She paused one moment, her expression changing to a small smirk. "But, 'ey, Bujari," she called after him, her tone a troubling mix of faux-flirtation, taunting, and aggression, "I had no idea you thought about me so much."

It was about this time that Huxley entered the training room. The blonde-haired, blue-eyed Blood Wolf opened his mouth to say something, but seeing the unfolding altercation, promptly shut it. Never was enough excitement around here, and this ought to be a good show.

"What are you waiting around for, eh?" she continued. "Hoping to get me in a fight? Hux there not rough enough on you?" The openly bisexual Huxley held up his palms to signify this wasn't his fight. He certainly enjoyed watching it, though, and exchanged an amused look with Clarion. "You need a woman to rough you up?"

[Echtronis]

A hard, mirthful breath puffed out of Bujari, shaking his head to the side with an amused smile at the comment of voodoo, though it was clear that provocation had been coating him, the crude, bright yellow faces on his shoulders facing his head looked like they coo'd on the escalating public observation of the scene, their stupid looking long lips stretching beyond their nose. Trying to keep in the hot anger the young Yoreiqi felt now, he resorted to simply looking tough and amused by the comparatively small Akello's counter-taunt, giving nod with a thick-lipped smooch to Huxley's direction at the suggestion of their own possible forays into the sheets, which could neither confirm nor deny the validity of it, Huxley certainly didn't give much a reaction, but it was hard to notice anything other than Zahi's challenge. Bujari was no exception by the end.

He gave a snort with his flared nostrils, his brow hardening as he stepped a little closer to her, his smile faded. "Maybeh yer right eh? Maybeh ah do t'ink aboutcha. Maybeh a man who be givin' no time ta flighteh hidin' be gettin' real fed up witcha tryin' ta hide wit'cha oh-so-tough airs, beatin' up ahn da skinny boys so no one be seein' whata simperin' little scavangah ya be." His voice was raised just a bit, but he kept a cool tone as best as he could.

He traced a finger across the scar across his solar plexus before flicking the strange, rather bizarrely un-ornamental splinter of metal that hung on a thong around his neck along with a seemingly random assortment of tiny charms and shells. "Ya know how ah got dis scar 'ea'? Ah t'ought one day dat da slave life be not rough enough fer me, so ah 'oped to get da mastah in a fight, 'e did, broke a knife in mah 'eart," he tapped the metal bit over the center of the scar. "Aftah dat, eet be difficult ta find aneht'in' rough enough, so ta answah yer question, no, 'Uxleh be not rough enough fer me, no man be, nor woman, ahn no devil-eyed sexless bitch be, eit'ah," He closed the distance between them over those words, not even a hand's length between them as he finished in a low tone. "But ya be more dan welcome ta try ta prove me wrong, Zanti girl. Anehtime, anehplace..."

[kleineklementine]

"You wanna take bets on this one?" Huxley asked Clarion side-long, watching the two Blood Wolves.

Clarion scoffed. "Not on your life."

Zahi, meanwhile, was watching Bujari with her eyes raised, expression unimpressed and unflustered. She liked how he had gone from saying she got beat too easily, to saying she only fought people she could beat. On the skinny boys! Pah. Because everyone was skinny compared to the hulking island man. "What, you think I'm hiding from you?" she asked, eyebrows raised. "I hate to think I've been frustrating you, Bujari."

But when the topic changed to how Oh So Very Tough he was and his tired sob story about his days as a slave, her expression turned to one of mock sympathy. "Yeah, yeah, we all know about you and your broken heart," she said, taking advantage of the closed space between him to pat his cheek the way you might an upset child. "Looks like it didn't make you tough enough to hit a girl, though, eh? But I don't have anything to prove to you."

Huxley grinned to Clarion, thoroughly amused, and muttered quietly to the older Wolf, "Great that they're getting on so swimmingly. They're going to just love it when they find out why I'm here."

[Echtronis]

Having so poorly predicted what he had thought were to have been easy pickings, Bujari had completely lost whatever form he believed himself to have had. Hns eyes almost bulged out his eyes as she deflected and even turned around his insults and goadings back onto him, and resorted to a rocky string of crude insults at her skill, which were of course completely unfounded, and jabs at how she was the only one in the den he wouldn't take to bed even if his life had depended on it, which of course made him seem all the more foolish, responding to earlier points in their altercation as new answers came to his hot head. His youthful pride keeping him from striking her, as that would mean she own, and eventually it would finally come down to a challenge.

"Right den! Since ya mokolaries be too far up yar coatl-yit to let ya be showin' me watchoo got, den let us be seein' it right'n propah; ya know dat Shadow, Walt'am, ya?" He asked rhetorically, everyone knew the dice player in the Shadow Wolves, Ingril Waltham, who was known for his web of contacts, and in particular those contacts' access to petty contracts for all manner of dirty deeds some of the more desperate Soots would take advantage of when their contributions were getting a bit too light, or for fresh pups (like Bujari not long ago) to cut their teeth on. For down and dirty jobs, Waltham was your man, but it always came with some kind of price, especially if he would catch on that his services were used to settle something as petty as what Bujari was about to suggest. "Ah say we pay 'im a visit, take da meanest contract 'e's got, ahn ah be showin' ya dat all ya talkin' be meanin' not'tin' when dis 'Lazeh voodoo layabout' gets da job done 'fore ya can even figyah out where to point yar soft little Zanti 'ead to, ah when ah do, ya stop sullyin' mah trainin' time when ah be here, ahn fuck off when ah show, ahn take yer shit witcha, ya?"

Clearly he had not heard the exchange between the others, which was very likely for the best. Old Galen had made his way out, muttering something about getting too old for this nonsense.

[kleineklementine]

Zahi openly laughed at the suggestion Bujari came up with in the end. His tirade of insults and jabs had, in truth, fanned the flames of her anger with him. Who did he think he was? And why did he have all of this stored up? Though if the position were reversed, Zahi could probably come up with a list of insults about the over-sexed idiot in nearly as short of time. But she didn't admit that to herself. It certainly made him disbelieve his comment that 'she was the only person he wouldn't take to bed.' In fact, she wondered if all this vitriol came from the fact that she hadn't - and wouldn't! - flounce into his bedroom. But she knew she still had the upper hand in the confrontation, so she didn't show any of her anger or annoyance. But when he suggested they go as far out of their way as taking a contract from Waltham, she laughed at him.

"What happened to, 'anehtime aneyplayce, Zaahhnti grl'?" she asked in mocking imitation of his accent. "But I don't have time to go beg Waltham for some shit job just so I can prove myself to you, 'island boy.' I have real jobs to take care of. I'm not just called in as a last resort like you and your voodoo."

Sensing there was finally an opening in the altercation - and it didn't seem like it was going to come to blows in the end anyway, disappointedly - Huxley took the opportunity to jump forward. "Actually!" he said brightly, and loudly enough to cut across the narrow focus of the arguing bloods, "Akello's right on this one. Neither of you have time to go chasing after Waltham."

Zahi looked a bit startled over at Huxley, as if just remembering he was there. Seeing this, Huxley grinned and waved. "Right, remember me? Hux the overly-gentle lover?" Oops. Zahi mouthed an apology for that, but Huxley shrugged it off. "Carraway sent me to fetch you two. So convenient for me to find you already together and getting on like a pair of turtledoves. So, if you're all done here...?"

[Echtronis]

Bujari,thoroughly irritated with the way this back and forth was going, was just building up a return to his usual confidence with explaining to Zahi the detail of a "real job" he had in store for her, when that unforgivingly blonde Huxley cut in like opportunistic dung beetle to roll off with the ball of low pride in the same nature he felt he was just yet to repossess. He didn't quite like the sound of what he interrupted with either, if his bulging eyed expression he gave to the man's words were to be of any indication.

"Da Jackal?" He dimly asked, though really more of an expression of realization as his focus was stripped away from the argument. He looked at Zahi at Huxley's indication that the two of them specifically were sought by Big Red himself, countenance a foul mix of his previous contempt and the kind of look someone gets when something they were initially pleasantly surprised to hear turned out to be something ominously dreadful. He said nothing to the girl and took a step "Ya best be messin' wit' ya implications, 'Ux," he said with another glance of disbelief to Akello before refocusing his attention.  "Or ah might not be gentle wit'choo next time." A joke in a threat in a clear deflection of his concern at the summoning, Bujari gave no time for open speculation, getting a quick start to find his way to the Red Jackal's usual haunt with not even a farewell, though a good ear may have heard him muttering to himself questioning on what in the hell a turtle dove is."

[kleineklementine]

“I'll take that as a promise," Huxley crooned after Bujari as he stalked away. "Huh, you really got him riled up there, Akello,” he quipped, watching the giant Yoreiqi storm out of the training room. Zahi also watched Bujari go, but less sanguinely than Huxley did. She might be dealing with it with a slightly cooler head, but the implication of Huxley’s interjection wasn’t lost on her, and she wasn’t happy about it, either. Now that Bujari had gone ahead of them, her cool expression turned to one of mild disgruntlement. Zahi, as a rule, never complained about an assignment, though, so she did her best to keep it on the inside. Huxley gestured for her to lead the way, “Ladies first.” And, once she was ahead of them, added with an appreciative glance over her, “Keeping fit, Akello! Nice work.”

Zahi just rolled her eyes and headed to the Red Jackal’s quarters, a stormy Bujari ahead of her and a grinning Huxley behind.

…

Inside the quarters of the Red Jackal, Carraway sat behind the dusty, scuffed table that served as his “desk” with his feet up. He was already in his late forties and had been the leader of the Blood Wolves for longer than most could remember. When Bujari stormed in, followed shortly by Zahi and Bujari, he looked up at them with a broad grin.

“Ah, Bujari! Good, Huxley found you all. Akello,” he added with a nod to Zahi. “Please, go ahead, take a seat you two. You want a drink.”

“No thanks,” Zahi answered. Her manner was composed again, attentive. Strictly business. As always.

Huxley, meanwhile, slunk to the back of the room, leaning against a wall with his arms crossed. Smirk evident on his face.

“Well, may as well get straight to business,” Carraway said, taking his feet off the table and looking across to Bujari and Zahi. “I got a job for you two. Don’t think you’ve worked as a team before, but I’m sure you’ll be fine. You’re both tough scrappers, so I’m not worried about that. Might be a bit of a time commitment, though. And we think it’ll take you out of Arca for awhile. You game?” It was, of course, a rhetorical question. One didn’t say ‘no’ to jobs from the Red Jackal.

[Echtronis]

Unlike the seemingly eternally sour Zahi, Bujari did not share the philosophy of drink and its relationship with business, and poured himself a small bit to help calm the tempest inside him. He always did appreciate Carraway's appreciation for rum that seemed so rare in this corner of the world, and though he'd never admit it, it made Bujari think of the home he would never return to. Not in the world of the living anyway.

The small bit seemed to grow a bit drastically as the Red Jackal continued, Bujari's eyes flitted from the glass to the boss himself at the mention of working with Zahi. He eventually set the bottle down and turned his head at the sound of Huxley's shuffling at the door, eyes narrowing at the smirk. He almost thought this was some silly joke, but new as he was, Bujari knew Carraway enough to not assume him a prankster. So with a slight drop in the jaw, Bujari did his best to not even look at Zahi and address the big red himself. "Ah... ah was just t'inkin' about how good it would be ta some fresh air; what be da job? Need some Adelan knocked off 'is lizard?" Perhaps the most direct Bujari has ever been outside of work and play, it was everything he could to absolutely not address the notion of working with Zahi, he wouldn't dare give her the satsifaction, but perhaps a perceptive soul would detect the change in his usual demeanor.

Either way, down went the rum.

[kleineklementine]

Where Bujari jabbered, Zahi simply nodded her assent to the Red Jackal. She always did. The serious, ambitious young Blood Wolf had yet to turn down a job. She wasn't about to start just because the man she was expected to work with was an idiot.

"Wonderful! Glad to have you both on board." Carraway exclaimed once both Wolves had agreed. He was being a touch too bright about it all. A sure sign that whatever he was going to say was not going to be something they would like.

"I won't lie to you, it's a bit of a risky job," Carraway started, getting to the matter at hand and ignoring Bujari's question. "There's an upstart giving us some trouble. Problem is, we don't know where to find him. Pretty impressive, no? None of our Shadows have been able to track his lair, and he doesn't leave it too often. But one of his side-ventures is slave trading. And rumor has it - well, not rumor, our best intelligence - that he inspects all of the 'wares' himself at his compound. Wherever that is. He specializes in, well, let's say 'exotics' and he examines each himself."

Carraway paused a bit awkwardly for his words so far to set in. Zahi just stared. Her expression stayed composed, however. But even she did not particularly like where this was going. Exotics.

"So we need to get someone inside. Someones of course is always better. And what's the most obvious route in? And you two are perfect because, well..." At this point, Carraway gestured to Zahi and Bujari with a wordless waving of his hands.

"What the boss is trying to say," Huxley chimed in helpfully from the background, "is you're both dark."

"Well, foreign," Carrway interjected, clearly trying to make his fumbling sound better. Huxley, of course, was right. "We couldn't use any Serenian citizens. I mean, Bujari, you're from an island from halfway around the world, right? And your foreign manner of speaking. And Akello... well, who knows what you are, but you're quite the interesting looking mongrel, aren't you?" In response, Zahi just stared, expression mostly unchanged, though her eyes might have widened a bit. "You speak Kishahn, right? Use that."

"A little," Zahi finally spoke, vague traces of offense trailing on her words, but not enough for Carraway to pick up on. She hadn't spoken Kishahn since she was a girl!

"Perfect. There's a market tomorrow in the Butcher District. Huxley will take the two of you down there. We'll have to sell you, of course," he said suddenly, as if it hadn't been clear. "But you won't go on the auction block. No worries there. Huxley alreayd has a contact with one of this guy's men. And Hux there is perfect, too; Traveler types, always have their hands in shady business like slave-trading."

"A vicious rumor," Huxley drawled from the shadows. "We're musicians, performers, merchants. That's a nasty stereotype. But keep going, Boss, you're doing great."

"You won't be able to bring any weapons with you, of course. And we aren't entirely sure where you'll end up. But you're both sharp and quick-witted and resourceful, so I have no worries there. You both have my complete faith." He paused a moment. Even for Blood Wolves, this was a crazy job. And they all knew it. Finally, he concluded, "Well, you'll be off tomorrow morning. That Shadow  Ulli will brief you on the target and all of what they know," he said in a way that made it clear Carraway didn't have the time for such trivialities.