Spirits of the Earth

Monnayage visited Adela often enough when he could. They were a nice people for the most part, though a bit eccentric at times. One of the perks was their superstition, most of which revolved around cats. For some reason they believed that if they told a secret around one, it would tell it to other people while they slept. Something that could be considered true in Maneki's case, even if the only person she could speak to was him.

Another reason he liked to come here was the brothel found in Ketrel, otherwise known as The Randy Peach—or as he liked to call such establishments, the cathouse. Nothing was better than flaunting money for beautiful women, or so his brother would always say. Monnayage was a lover of the opposite sex as much as the next guy, but he found places like this to be a bit demeaning for them. It embarrassed him to see them so scantily clad, having so little respect for themselves.

But he was a guy, as said. And he couldn't deny the carnal sensitivity he had when he saw their fine, bare skin.

He avoided the upper floors where certain going-ons occurred that he wanted nothing to do with. That was a little too disrespectful.

Not to mention Maneki would eunuchize him on the spot were he to set foot anywhere up there. She was already very disgruntled with him for coming here in the first place, making it hard for him to enjoy himself as she pushed her displeasure onto him.

Several women eyed him as they made their way to the bathhouses down the hall and he grinned at them and waved. He was used to being fawned over—and who wouldn't fawn over him? Being as attractive as he was. They put their heads together and giggled, making him grin wider.

<Nothing but pheromones in here,> Maneki said in disgust, sneezing.

The settee they were settled on in the lounge area was decorated with a floral design, as was everything else in this section of the building. Even the drapes of silk had the ugly imprint on them. He ran his hand absentmindedly down his cat's back as he watched another group of girls pass by with some guys that looked lost and confused, as if they couldn't believe where they were.

Only four other people were sitting down around him, each a couple whispering nonsense words of sexual desires to one another. No matter how low they spoke, he could still hear them, and he tried to not laugh at one of the men as he gave a tacky love-line.

<What would you expect in a whorehouse?> he asked genially.

Naturally, she was too good to actually be working in this place. But nobody needed to know what now did they? Korbane flicked a haughty eyebrow around her surroundings from her hiding place in the hallway as she lounged against the wall, body posed seductively. Hey, if she was there, she needed to look the part. Still, she had much more material covering her body than most of the other girls. She thought her own exotic beauty was enough - she didn't need to go flaunting it. Men found it themselves.

Korbane let out a sultry purr to a man passing her. The man instantly turned, picked her up and pressed her hard up against the wall, hooking her leg around his hips. Her skirt hitched, showing off her thigh to anyone in plain view.  She lowered her head, brushing her mane of hair back from her face and growled into his ear. "Who is he?"

"The man with the cat."

Korbane peered coyly across the man's shoulder. There he was. The slight little thing petting a cat. "You want me to kill him?" She murmured back, her lips brushing against his neck to keep up appearances.

"Indeed."

"Why?"

"Since when do you ask questions?" He pinched her, and she scowled.

"Don't push it. You may be hiring me, but you never, ever, bite the hand that feeds you." She lowered her hands down the mans back, breathing hotly. "Understand, bastard?" He dropped her then, feeling the power in her words. Her reputation was formidable for one so young. He leaned over her one more moment, and left her with the words "Three hundred. Gold."

Boy oh boy, whos missus did you mess with? Korbane thought with a raised brow at the boy on the settee, when her employer had gone. Never mind. Lets just get the job done, shall we? With that thought, she sashayed over to Monnayage, bare feet soundless on the floor boards, her hips swaying and, dark red skirt swishing about her knees. Truth be told, she looked expensive. And she knew it.

Game time.

As she neared the boy, she began to wobble a little, fanning herself with her hands. "Oh... Oh, I feel..." She neatly folded herself in Monnayage's lap, disrupting the couple to his left with her legs. Her eyes rolled closed, and her head fell limp against the boy's knee.

At first he thought the woman was going to throw up as she pitched toward him, and he instinctively flinched back in disgust, but his vain revulsion quickly turned to concern when she instead proceeded to fall into his lap. Maneki gave a loud hiss, up on her paws with her back arched and tail friffed out at much as it could. She did not like the intrusion.

"Wha—are you all right, miss?" he asked, hesitating between the motions of reaching for the woman to help her rise or resting a hand on her shoulder. The indecision left him with his arms half-raised, a bemused expression on his face.

<Go away!> Maneki spat, batting at the woman's full head of hair with her paw in an angry motion. Her claws dug through his clothes on his stomach, threatening to pierce his skin.

Korbane gritted her teeth at the batting paw in her hair. If there was one thing she truly detested it was cats. And her hair being touched. The two together was a lethal combination. Still, this was all an act, and so wearily she moaned quietly, and then with a sudden movement, sat up, a blush filling her cheeks as she eyed the spot of her perfectly aimed 'faint'.

"Oh," she cried in feigned horror, "Oh, I- I'm so sorry, sir. I ... I felt faint. I feel faint." She put a hand to her head. "I don't know what came over me." She began to stand, and swayed a little, putting her hand out as if she needed someone to catch her. "I think... I think I need to just rest a moment, would you mind if I sat by you?"

Not caring for an answer, she took the small space beside him, and leaned her head back with eyes closed, letting her hand fall onto his knee in a tired sort of way. "I suppose," she suggested, opening one golden eye to peer at him, "that after landing so awkwardly, I should give you a name. I'm Korbane."

Had Maneki not been so fastened to his body to the point of injuring him, Monnayage would have leapt to his feet to help the girl as she swayed. Instead, he leaned forward to grab her in case she fell.

He didn't know what to say, always at a loss of words when it came to swooning women, unless it was him they were swooning over. Worry was definitely his main feeling at this point in time.

Seeing the woman sit by him, Maneki moved to plant herself between the two of them, glaring at the stranger. Her tail waved adamantly behind her, body tense and ready to strike at any moment despite the now calm and collected appearance she gave. Worried that his cat might indeed hurt this already faint beauty, he placed one hand on Maneki's back in silent warning.

"Miss Korbane," he said, rolling the word around on his tongue as if to look as though he was trying to see if he liked it or not. Women liked it when you acted calm in a tense situation, especially if they were sick. "Have you had any water tonight? Would you like me to escort you somewhere where you could lie down and rest?"

Korbane fought to push the cat away from her, so great was her distaste. First thing I do is off the cat she thought viciously, before turning a sweet smile to Monnayage.

"You are so very kind, you don't have to do that for me," she lowered her eyes, and looked at him bashfully through her lashes. "Why, you don't even know me, and here I am falling into your lap like a common... er..." she flicked her eyes over towards a scantily clad woman to finish her sentence.

She simpered again, turning her body towards the boy, though he couldn't have been too much younger than her, she thought. "Who is your beautiful friend here?" She asked, hesitantly putting her hand out towards the cat. "May I? Pet her, I mean? I had a cat once. I miss her so much."

His eyes followed hers over to the lesser dressed of the women in the room. Admittedly, his gaze lingered longer than hers, but when he turned away, his attention was once again focused on nothing but this stranger. The women here were beautiful, yes, but this one had an exotic look to her. An obvious one. He liked it.

He chuckled. "To be honest, none of them have fallen into my lap," he said. Then he looked at Maneki, who the girl's attention was now on. While the cat looked carefree, he could see her taut muscles, could feel her aura of loathing radiating out of her fur. She didn't miss the compliment, puffing a little when it was said, but it did not sway her.

Before the girl's hand could get any closer, before Maneki had the chance to strike, he shot forward and grabbed the furball, pulling her into his lap. "I, ah, don't think that would be a great idea," he said, trying to sound like it was no big deal. "She's kind of cranky right now. Sorry. The name's Monnayage, by the way. Mine, that is, not hers."

Ugh. This was getting tired before it had even started. She recoiled her hand, as Monnayage snatched her up, holding it lightly with the other, and nodded her apology. "I'm sorry." She looked to the cat, slyly conducting a plan.

"Oh, but I don't know why they wouldn't want to..."  letting her eyes drift over him appreciatively, she decided it was time to boost his ego a little. "... You are quite handsome. Oh, but look at me," she pretended to be flustered, and blushed at her 'forwardness'.

The sooner she could get this boy alone, the better. Though she could tell she was going to have to do something about that cat. It wouldn't leave his side. Unless she could slip something into a drink.

"I know I said I didn't need an escort home, but do you think could get me a drink, I'm afraid that probably has something to do with my dizzy spell. Just tell the barkeep that its for Korbane. He's my... uncle."

Now, how could he turn down a woman that blushed at him like that? Especially one that complimented him with such honesty. She, like almost every other girl he'd met, appeared embarrassed for stating something as obvious as how good-looking he was, and despite it being a silly thing to be embarrassed over, it tugged at his heartstrings.

He smiled sweetly and rose from the couch, Maneki still in his arms. With a flourished bow, he said, "Anything for you, miss Korbane. Any particular beverage you're interested in? Or will water do?"

Too easy. She almost pouted at the thought, catching herself just in time. She hated jobs that were this easy. Quickly she thought through the poison vials tucked deep into the hidden pocket of her skirt. All of them would dissolve easily enough. She'd have to create a diversion though.

With a flippant wave of her hand she looked up at Monnayage, giggling at his bow. Dear gods, how conceited is he? One little compliment and he's at my fucking beck and call. She leaned forward slightly, allowing ample cleavage to show, and put a finger to her lips as if in thought. "Oh, water would be just fine, Monnayage. I appreciate it, really."

The canyon of cleavage was noticed, but Monnayage ignored it. Women didn't like it when men stared at their breasts during conversation; however, she did seem to want him to notice them. Hard not to, really.

"Water it is."

- - -

There were two glasses of water in his hands when he returned. He held one out to Korbane, smiling at her as he did so. "A water for the lovely lady," he said.

<And one for me. I'm thirsty,> Maneki added, pawing lightly at the arm that held the other glass, wanting him to bring it toward her.

She was a quick wee thing. While he had been at the bar ordering drinks, Korbane had scooted up, whipping her hand into her pocket and examining the clear liquid contents of a particular vial. It was her favourite drug. It made its victims sleepy, a little silly, and they often spent their last few hours in her bed, having thrown all inhibitions to the wind. She tucked it into her hand, planning to slip it into Monnayage's drink, or even her own if she needed to.

Taking the glass offered to her she smiled. "Thank you, Monnayage." Now, to get him to set his cup down and she could distract him in some way. She placed her own cup between her knees, and reached a hand up to tug the boy down towards her. "Come, sit... tell me, since you've been so very kind to me," she practically purred, "is there anything I can do for you?"

He willingly submitted to the tugging, careful not to spill his water, and laughed at her eagerness. She might have been faint minutes ago, but her liveliness was now shining through.

"You can start," he said, pointing mock-serious at the glass between her legs, "by drinking up. Don't want you passing out again, do we?"

<I do,> Maneki said. She settled into his lap once more, looking eagerly at the glass of water her held. He took a few sips of it before holding it horizontally for her to lap from, then placed it between his own legs, just a few inches from where Maneki rested.

She obediently sipped at her glass of water. What I wouldn't give for something stronger right about now. This kid is really starting to piss me off. "yes, I think I should I am still feeling a little dizzy. What's your cat's name? She really is the most beautiful creature I've ever seen.. such lovely colours."

While she spoke, within her hand she moved the vial to remove the top, and it sat there now hidden between her fingers. She drank a little more from her glass, and then began to fan her self.

Oh.. I think I'm..." She lurched forward, letting the hand containing the poison fall over his lap and depositing the colourless, odourless potion into his cup. Then she swooned back, putting the hand to her head, and leaning her head onto the back of the seat. "I really am not well."

At the mention of his cat, his hand automatically went to Maneki's furry head where he then start to pet her along the ridges of her ears, making her purr. "Her name's Maneki," he said fondly. "She's a Siamese." And one of the most beautiful, he thought. One of the reasons he'd chosen her out of the whole litter of seven.

"She was going to name herself Pr--hey, careful!" Her plunge forward made him reach out to catch her, but she quickly recovered herself before he needed to. Maneki was growling low, the fur along her spine bristling, like a prickly horse's mane. "Are you sure you don't want to go lie down somewhere?"

Now he was truly concerned. Did she need a physician?

Too bad she couldn't fake a cold clammy sweat. Korbane sat there for a moment, closing her eyes and holding her head. At the mention of having a lie down, she shook her head lethargically. "No ... no... I'll be fine. Let it just pass a moment, and finish your drink."

To show him she would be okay, she sat forward slowly, brushing a hand through her mane, and picked up her glass of water again. She took a few more sips. "It's cold... good. Perhaps that's what I need? Some fresh air?" She tilted her head and pursed her lips in thought.

"Could you perhaps help me outside a moment, I don't quite trust my legs just yet."

His drink was cool in his lap. He glanced down at it, noticing some of the perspiration on the glass had soaked into his pants. The only reason he'd grabbed it was because Maneki had been thirsty, and because he felt that Korbane might feel comfortable knowing he'd gotten something as well. It was hard to think about drinking anything when you the person next to you was in need of attention.

"I don't think it's a good idea to be walking around or going anywhere when you're feeling dizzy," he said.

Dammit... Maybe not so easy. Alright then, we'll just sit here a moment.

Korbane looked like she was about to protest, but the last thing she needed was Monnayage getting his knickers in a twist. What she did need him to do however, was drink that bloody glass if water. Still, if it was only the cat that drank it, she wouldn't complain... That thing stuck to him like glue.

"Oh, alright..." she said in acquiescence, as she leaned back and relax just marginally. "Its just, very hot in here, and I thought sitting in the steps outside might help me clear my head. But if you insist I stay here, then I guess I feel better just for the company." She flashed him her most alluring smile, and simpered just a little while bringing her glass to her lips and taking a sip.

Then she eyed the glass for a moment, and she tilted her head, baring the length if her neck and moving her mass of hair to the side. Korbane took the cup and pressed it against her skin with a appreciative murmur. Then she brought the cup to settle on the bare skin of her chest. All her movements were slow and calculated, seductive, but easily done without any air of pretense.

When she had finished cooling herself, she settled the cup down again, and spoke in a much stronger voice than before. "Do you come here often, Monnayage? To Ketra, I mean."

Hot in here. She didn't know the half of it. Temperatures seemed to increase as she brought the drink to her neck, soft skin exposed. The desire to run his fingers down her chest, to hold her hair in his hands, pulsed in his abdomen where a greater warmth was growing.

Oh, this woman. She knew what she was doing. What a seductress. Even when sick she was appealing.

He smiled, eyes moving from the cup to her face. "Not very often, no. I usually stick to Serenian lands. What about you? Are you from Ketra?" She didn't look it.

She shook her head slowly, not willing to give an answer just yet. Always give out the least amount of information possible. "No, I'm not from Ketra." She smiled coyly, twirling a strand of hair between her fingers as she eyed him confidently.

This was taking far too long. She hated jobs where she had to draw things out. She would much rather just take him out to a back alley and drive a dagger through his belly. Still, things were the way they were, and so she had to play along.

Eyeing the cat with a little glare, she scooted just a little closer to Monnayage, lowering her voice so he'd have to lean in to hear her amidst the rising noise of the brothel.

"What brings you to Ketra, then? Not business, I hope - you look like you should be well taken care of by a lovely woman, in a castle, waited on hand and foot. Or with a harem, even. Have you? A harem, I mean?"

Modest. He could accept that, even if every other part of her wasn't. Where she came from was her business.

As she scooted closer, he did as well, ignoring the low growls given by his cat and the warning signals she sent through their link. His body sat in the way of her claws, an intentional move on his part, so if she wanted to attack, it'd be only him and not Korbane.

Her voice so close to his ears, and lowered so seductively, sent goose pimples down his back. Chuckling under his breath, he said just as quietly, "No. No harems, my lady. And my looking as though I should is a matter of heritage, nothing else. Although," he pressed closer, breathing in her exotic scent, "the lovely woman part could easily be taken care of."

Korbane lowered her eyes at Monnayage, looking up at him through her thick lashes. Now they were getting somewhere. She ignored the growls of the cat, and let her hand fall lightly onto his knee. It wasn't like she'd had cat scratches before, and she was more than willing to suffer some if it would help her achieve her goal. "Is that why you're here, Monnayage? To find a lovely woman?"

She leaned in for one more tantalizing moment, before removing her hand and setting herself back again. A smile played on her lips, while her golden eyes twinkled and danced.

"You know, " she said, as she reached over for her cup and took another long, slow drink, "I really am feeling quite a lot better, a little tired though. If you're not going to let me go anywhere, would you mind if I rested my head on your shoulder a moment, while I close my eyes?"

He couldn't believe he was getting this far without Maneki intervening! Though she still growled, pitch rising as Korbane touched his leg, she made no other attempt to attack. Part of him knew he should be suspicious toward this, but the human male part of him joyed in the daring he portrayed.

The touch to his leg made him all-too-aware of how close she was.

"Not really," he responded, making sure not to spill the drink in his lap as he edged closer. "I come to watch, usually. Nothing more."

Then she settled back on the couch, taking all of his attention with her. He wanted her closer again so he could breathe all of her in. Pheromones of a different sort radiated off her body, taunting him.

And then! As if she'd heard his thoughts, she asked to rest her head on him. It was more than he could have asked for. Warning bells in his head, or maybe from Maneki, rang out, but he ignored them. If she'd rather lie on him than the settee, who was he to stop her?

"I wouldn't mind at all," he said.

"Thanks," Korbane smiled a small smile, and scooted over. She leaned into him, her back pressing against his side. Her legs came up and bent into a half curled motion, even to the point of her toes. With her skirt short as it was, she couldn't help but let the fabric slip a little, giving Monnayage a good show of her tanned thighs. And so settled, she rested her head so her cheek pressed into his shoulder. With a faux yawn she mumbled "Don't let me sleep for too long."

With one arm tucked inside her thin jacket she fingered the dagger in the hidden pocket. From this angle she'd be able to stick him in the ribs, if she needed to. Again, not ideal. She closed her eyes then, and let her whole body melt. Not that she was going to sleep. Her ears would stay open the whole time, waiting for the best moment to strike. Of course, being inside the brothel wasn't ideal. She'd have to deal with cleaning the blood from the couch.

As with any other man, the feel of Korbane's warm body up against his own made his blood heat almost at once. He could hear his own heart beating, could discern its pulse under his skin, especially around his temple. She smelled of the earth, her hair of almonds. Many a woman he had courted in his time, but none that had ever smelled so . . . peregrine.

He wanted throw out some witty banter, maybe a perverted remark as he was known to do, but he resigned to sitting there and saying nothing.

What was he to do if Korbane really did fall asleep? It sounded dreadfully boring, the view being pleasant nonetheless. Would he have to settle with watching the other couples?

Maneki wormed her way around him somehow, lithe body squeezing between his side and the settee, and placed her face directly into Korbane's, nose-to-nose. <Go away!> she meowed. <I don't like you.>

Korbane opened one eye very slowly at the feel of the cat's nose against hers. That one eye was narrowed into absolute hatred and loathing. It was as if she knew the cat's feelings, and was trying to reciprocate them through her own stare. Still, to keep up appearances, she closed her eye again and swatted sleepily at the cat.

With a little sigh, she tilted her head back, smiling languidly up at Monnayage. "I don't think your cat wants me to sleep."

Monnayage grabbed Maneki by her middle and pulled her away, one hand coming up to pet her on the head. <Be nice, Makki,> he said, though with little scolding in his tone. The cat had done little to harm Korbane, so he found her abrupt invasion amusing rather than insulting. Out loud he said, "Ha. No, I don't think she does." He cleared his throat. "She doesn't like other women much. Competition and all."

A low hiss escaped from Maneki, her ears pulling back. <She smells funny. Not like the others. And she's a liar. She doesn't like cats.>

<How can she, if the one she's seeing now does nothing but hiss and spit at her?>

<She doesn't like you, either.>

<Nonsense!> He held back a laugh, looking at Korbane as though she were in on the silly little joke. <She loves me. Look at how she swoons. No woman can resist me.> Despite his moving his hand down Maneki's soft back, the fur sprang back up the moment his hand left it, permanently on the offense.

<Don't blame me if she tries to strangle you and I claw her eyes out,> Maneki said, drooping over his hand like a limp cloth, her eyes still blazing on Korbane.

Competition. Pfft. I could break that little rat's neck with my bare hands. Rat being both of them. Korbane opened her eyes, and smiled. "Oh, she doesn't have to be jealous of me. I'm terrible with men." Gah... could this get any more innane? She blinked a moment, returning the smile that appeared on his face, and wondering what exactly she was smiling at. She put a hand up to tap Monnayage gently on the chin. Oh, she could be very familiar if she wanted to, and that is most certainly what she wanted to do.

How was she though, to convince him to finish that drink. She leaned into him, just a little more, letting her head fall back even further, till her lips were pressed close to his neck. She let them sit there a moment, and then giggled. "Whoops... sorry," she murmured, pulling herself back to a sitting position, crossing her legs beneath her.

"So... Monnayage. Besides coming here to watch ... what else do you get up to in Ketra?"

Like he was going to believe that. A woman terrible with men would not be in a brothel, nor would such a woman know exactly how to move, showing just enough skin to tantalize, no. She was a professional at what she was doing. It was simply that he couldn't figure out exactly what she was trying to do. She'd gotten his attention simply by spilling into his lap, what more did she want?

Smiling, he set Maneki down on his lap again, hand still holding her middle in case she tried to pull a fast one. The other hand he used to push some of Korbane's hair away out of her face. Her breath smelled sweet.

"I come here for the novelty, mostly. Don't get out of my homeland, much. It's nice to sight-see."

His life wasn't interesting to others, he knew. All that mattered was that he and Maneki had fun. But many didn't understand how close his bond was with the cat.

The cat who currently radiated loathing. It was starting to seep into his own mind, and he leaned back a little more casually to try and smother the feeling.

She glanced over, eyes narrowed to the sight of the cat on his lap. He didn't go anywhere without the animal, she could tell just from the way he held her. Still, it was none of her business to get involved with a cat. Get involved with the man, yes.  She listened to his words a moment, about not getting out  from his homeland much, and she smiled.

"Come, " she said finally, rising to her feet, "finish your water, and I'll show you some other sights. It'll be a ... private tour..." With that, she wandered towards the door, throwing a vixen like glance over she shoulder, drawing Monnayage over to her.

His eyes followed her as she rose, brows lifting with his smile of amusement. No sign of the earlier weakness showed in her movement.

Her beckoning moved him like no other command could. The drink disappeared down his throat in a matter of seconds, and he got to his feet with one swift movement, lifting Maneki up to his shoulder where she climbed up and curled agitatedly around his neck. "Let me get that for you," he said, going to the door and holding it open for her.

Oh, this is going to be so, so very sweet. Little eager boy... look at you. You're almost panting. Hah!

Korbane swayed out of the way as Monnayage opened the door for her, and inclined her head in thanks. Not once taking her eyes off him as she moved past him, Korbane controlled the twisted smile that wanted to dance gleefully over her face. It'd only take a short while now for the poison to kick in, turning him into a simpering little mess, who was totally enamored by her, as if he wasn't already.

Oh no, her eyes they told him other things. Things she'd never say aloud, even if she had been attracted to the little mite. Those golden eyes spoke of promise and desire and hunger like he'd never known before, and she knew it, turning her body agilely, hands clasped behind her back.

Once out in the open, she took a deep breath, her lips falling into a relaxed pouting smile. She unclasped her hand, and let it brush against Monnayage's hand, lingering on his fingertips. "Shall we head to, say... oh, I know. I'll show you. Let it be a surprise," she said in a provocative purr, and began to walk, half a step ahead, knowing that he'd follow her.

The temperatures had dropped as the sun had set, leaving a comfortable coolness in the air. There were fewer couples outside the brothel, what ones lingered lay sprawled out on the grass, oblivious to their surroundings. A few night crickets had started their evening serenade, adding a nice wild music to the erstwhile silence of twilight.

Monnayage took a few deep breaths of the crisp, clean air, stretching his arms up over his head, feeling Maneki's claws poke at his skin to keep from falling off. When his hands came back down, one of Korbane's skimmed over one of them, a crackle of energy shooting from her fingertips into his.

She had him hooked like a fish, which left him in a constant state of passive laughter, since his custom was to lead, not the other way around. She seemed so eager to do it herself, though, and did it in such a way that he had no problems following.

"A surprise, hm?" he said, curiosity getting the better of him. "I don't have to pay for this surprise, do I?"

Korbane smiled over at him sweetly, and shook her head. "No, you don't need to pay, sweet Monnayage. We'll keep this between us, hmm?" Her voice was velvet, and she revelled in the fact that finally she had him right where she wanted.

She wound through the streets of Ketra, with her payday in tow, every now and then casting a glance back to gauge his reactions to the poison in his system. He seemed relaxed, and that was a good sign. She couldn't say the same for the cat though. She was hanging on for dear life, and that made the assassin smirk.

"Tell me, Monnayage, if you could have one thing... any one thing in the whole world, what would it be?"

Free! How nice of her.

But things turned more and more baffling as she continued to lead him along through the streets. Ketra's roads held no occupants, the darkness of the evening not a popular appeal for citizens. Yet still she walked, glancing back at him on occasion, where he would smile at her. Unusual, to want to take him somewhere so far from the brothel. Patrons tended to keep their work within the doors or on the property.

<We can turn around,> said Maneki, her paw batting his ear.

<You can turn around if you want.> He reached up to grab the batting paw, rubbing its velvety underside until she pulled it back from the tickle. She wouldn't leave him.

Korbane spoke and he looked up. "Pardon? What would I want?" He lowered his hand, brow quirked. "Ah, I don't know." What a question to pull out of nowhere. Was she looking for a particular answer? "What about a hint to where it is you're taking me?"

"No hints," she replied coquettishly, giving a teasing wiggle of her hips. "I told you, it's a surprise."

It was obvious he had been in Ketra that often. Korbane had already lead him back to the back entrance to the brothel. Not like she had anywhere else to go. The Randy Peach was her home in Ketra, much as she didn't like to admit it.

The back entrance was unmarked, simply a door in a back alley. Deciding to try her luck against the wrath of the cat, she suddenly turned and put herself up against the wall beside the door and pulled Monnayage in close to her.

"But tell me," she hummed in hushed, honeyed tones, "what is it you really want the most in the world, hmm?"

To Monnayage, the walk started off peculiar but alluring. Now, as he found himself back at the brothel with no idea how they'd gotten there, it had turned into a delightful breath of fresh air. The night had taken on a fuzzily blissful ambiance, the song of the night crickets humming in his ears with their sweet, indistinct melody, and the sharp outlines of everything around him blurring into softer, less stressful figures.

The stars overhead dimmed into an indistinguishable mass as he moved toward his escort, her beguiling behaviour suddenly too persuasive for him to want to fight back. Then she was pulling him toward her, her colorful scent of hot desert sands and spiced almonds overwhelming him until it was all he could smell.

He found himself smiling as he reached up to grab a strand of fiery red hair that had fallen in front of her eyes, and he became enraptured by its brilliant color. How very striking she was with her dark skin and yellow-flecked brown eyes that screamed at him with a sort of fervor. And her touch shot flame up his arm and into his brain, a flame of desire so powerful he almost shivered. Despite it being soft, it commanded his attention like no other.

He couldn't remember ever having felt so carefree, even though his life revolved around that one feeling alone.

He laughed through his nose, moving his attention from her hair back to her eyes. He didn't know what he wanted most right now. The need for further physical contact grew, though. "Mmm. I've no idea," he said, no attention paid on what he was saying. Her skin looked silken, a warm blanket he wanted to curl up against. He drew closer, breathing all of her in, nerves wired. "What is it you want me to say?" he whispered.

Don't. Touch. My. Hair. I hate it when people touch my hair, she wanted to snarl at him. She could honestly say that this was the part of her job she only enjoyed because she was good at it. So as seamlessly as the finest actress, she closed her eyes and gave a little shiver at his touch. As he pulled himself closer, she snaked her arms around his waist, pulling him closer still.

She pressed every inch of her against him, purring as a hand ran up and down his back. "I'll let you decide," she said throatily, lowering her lips to breath across his neck. "Would you like to come with me, Monnayage? I can show you what it is you desire most in the world."

Every nerve in his body screamed. Touch! Touch! Touch me! they cried.

And then she did, running her hand along his back, and his eyes dilated as far as they could, black overtaking the color of his irises. Every part that she touched rang with triumph and he moved into her touch, a purr started in the back of his throat like an itch. Her fingers were glorious beacons of contact.

"Lady," he said as he rested his forehead against hers, reveling in the feel of her skin, of her body in general. "I would follow you all the way across the world."

Maneki said something then, but it was lost in the blare of his senses, a mere buzzing of what felt like concern. But that didn't make sense. There was nothing for her to be concerned about. Nothing at all.

Korbane blinked at him doe-fully for a moment, seeing the change in his pupils, and smiled inwardly. Now was as good a time as any, the poison had most definitely begun to take effect, and she only had about an hour until he was completely unconscious, and she could be done with her job. So sue me for wanting to show the kid a good time before he dies.

"Then follow me," she called lightly, taking his hand, and leading him up to a private room she liked to call her home. It was simply furnished, with a large dresser against the wall on the left, a wash basin and ewer of water against the right, and a large bed against the back wall.

She slipped in, tugging Monnayage behind her, before slipping back and leaving him in the middle of the room. She peered out the door, head swaying left and right as she checked for any disturbances, but seeing none, and hearing nothing from the other rooms lining the hallways, she could only imagine that the other Peaches either had very quiet clients, or weren't in their rooms.

Perfect. As always, she praised herself, before glaring at the cat still perched on the boy's shoulder. Now if I could get rid of that thing. Ah.. I know. The draw! She beamed broadly at the swishing tail, and slunk back around to face Monnayage. Gently, she placed both hands on his chest, and leaned in close enough for their lips to barely touch.

"We need to do away with you pet, dear. I'd feel funny with a cat watching what I'm about to do to you."

Like a kitten desperate for attention, Monnayage followed Korbane to her room, oblivious to those he passed. The walk was short, but time no longer existed; when they got to the room, he couldn't even remember having walked there.

The place was small, decent. Warm. It smelled of her, her perfume taking up the whole space like a thick blanket. He took a few deep breaths, soaking it in as she walked back over to the door. What interested him the most was the bed, big and comfortable-looking. The desire to curl up on it and roll around on the soft bedding perked its head.

He was making his way for it, ready to do just that, when Korbane slipped in front of him.

Ah! Her. He'd almost forgotten her at the sight of the bed, mind easily catching on to one thing and dumping everything else.

"Pet?" He glanced around, looking for the pet to which she referred, then realized she meant Maneki. At the same time he realized this, Maneki started to growl, low and deep in her throat, body suddenly ready to spring. Her claws dug deep into his skin, tail wrapping possessively around his neck. While he knew it should have hurt to have those barbed claws sinking into him, he strangely felt nothing at all, maybe a few pinches.

An odd territorial feeling overcame him then, and he found himself backing up, growling as well without knowing why. "Maneki's not a pet," he said.

She took a step back, eyeing the animal with contempt. This stupid cat was making this job so much more difficult than it needed to be. Then she softened her eyes, till they were like molten gold. "Oh, Monnayage. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend you. Of course she's not just a pet. She's your friend." Glancing around the room, she let her eyes fall to the bed, and then back to his face.

"Come," she cooed, stretching out a hand to him, "I was merely suggesting that she might... get in the way... with what I plan to do with you. Why don't we -" Stuff her in the draw. Let her suffocate. "-pop her outside for a moment. I can go and get some food for her. She'll be perfectly safe."

As he put his hand up to Maneki to hold her paw, his eyes, too, traveled to the bed. Again it looked so nice.

"More than a friend, really," he said absent-mindedly, focus now solely on the bed. "And you didn't offend me. You offended her."

For some strange reason he couldn't get a hold of his own thoughts. Why had he acted out so vehemently? Korbane had shown no reason to want to harm Maneki, there being no reason for his companion to be hooking to his skin.

All he wanted was to lie down in the bed with this beautiful woman, and if that meant kicking the cat out of the room for some privacy, then he would do it. It wasn't like it would be the first time he'd had to do such a thing.

The only problem was the fact that the feline was now attached to him, quite literally, and while he still couldn't feel any pain, tearing her off of him didn't seem pleasant to him.

"Any ideas on how we get her off of me?" he asked, laughing. The question sounded funny to him.

She couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at the thought that the cat was more than just a pet, let along more than a friend, and it rose even higher as he said she'd offended her.

Seriously? It's a fucking animal. Get rid of it already. I want to kill you!

"Not a clue," Korbane said with a tight smile, "But I'm sure such a delightful creature couldn't resist a pat." She took a step closer, and reached her hand out, taking his hand in hers, and stroking the back of it lightly with her thumb. "Surely she would relax with something like this, hmm?"

There was her hand again, soft and gentle, sending tingles up and down his arm with its touch. Any and all tension he'd been feeling before was gone, replaced by absolute bliss.

"Mmm." He put his other hand on her stroking one, almost wanting her to stop so that he could try and get a hold of his senses, which seemed to have been left back outside. "She probably wouldn't. But I definitely would."

Again Maneki was saying something, or at least trying to. Her voice, which usually rang so clearly in his mind, came off as a distant hum, as if she were beating against a thickset door. Then the cat leapt at Korbane, hissing and spitting, and all he could do was blink in surprise.

She gave a knowing smile for the small amount of progress. She knew it would only be a matter of getting him rid of the cat before she could have her way with him, send him spiraling out of control. And when he was blissfully unaware of her, floating off in his own ocean of pleasure, she'd stab him through the heart, and be done with it all.

She gave a startled cry as the cat leaped at her, quickly grabbing the thing around it's middle, and holding it's wriggling self away from her. Her eyes turned dark as its claws sank into the flesh on her arms, but she wasn't about to let a few stings stop her from her job.

"Alright then, darling," she said sweetly, turning and heading to the door. "Out you go." For Monnyage's sake, she kept her tone mellow, as if she was not seething on the inside that this ball of fur could ruin all her plans for the night. Clutching Maneki with one hand, she quickly opened the door, and hiffed her out. She slammed the door shut again before the animal could sneak back inside.

Rubbing her arms ruefully, Korbane sauntered back over to her mark, swaying her hips, and staring at him coyly. "About this bed..."

Everything happened too fast for Monnayage to get a grasp of what was going on. Korbane seemed to act out with lightning reflexes, catching Maneki mid-leap and bearing through with what scratches the mad cat achieved.

He knew he should do something--his gut intuition told him so, but what?

Before he could decide, however, Maneki was tossed from the room, and there were furious hisses and yowls and sounds scratching outside of the door. He got the feeling that Maneki was calling him, but again he couldn't quite tell.

It was . . . it was too hard. Too much effort. He put his hand to his temple, bemused. "I . . . ah . . . What? The bed?"

Yes. The bed. It had looked comfortable enough. Maybe he'd feel better once he'd curled up in it. "Right. The bed." He brought his hand down and smiled at her. "After you."

"After me? Aren't you the gentleman," Korbane smirked. Time to get your whore on, she thought. You know what, by the look of him, I might not even have to.

She brought her hand up to his chin, and stroked her thumb along his bottom lip, and then rose her eyebrow invitingly. Oh, tease him she would.  She sauntered to the bed, crawling up on her hands and knees, flashing enough of her thighs, and even her backside for it to be unseemly, and then sprawled herself out on her back in the center, arms flung above her head.

"Mmm..." she hummed before lifting her head, "Aren't you going to come and join me?"

Once Korbane lay on the bed, Monnayage wasted no time in joining her. An emotion of stimulation coursed through him, making his blood sing with desire and warmth. He curled up on the bed with Korbane, taking in how very soft the bedding was--just as he'd imagined it would be.

Caught up in his comfort, he wormed his way closer to Korbane's body, her natural perfume heating his nose. Like a cat, he began to twist his body to fit the contours of hers, enabling him to have as much contact as he could. He started to purr as he nuzzled his head against her neck, lost in his cat-like feelings.

"Mm," he said through his purring, speaking into her neck. "You smell nice."

Korbane giggled as he curled himself around her, and even tilted her chin a little to allow him more neck to nuzzle against. Bringing her arm down around his shoulders, she traced lazy patterns along the top of his back.

"Do I smell good?" She asked lightly, with just a hint of a saucy smile, and she shifted herself around to face him, pressing her forehead to his. This part she knew well enough. Tease him, lure him in with the contact. A little flutter of movements, making herself accessible to him.

As she brushed her nose against his lightly, she peered into his eyes, batting her eyelashes innocently. Her lips were so very close, she could feel his cool breath against them, but she held steady. "Have you ever kissed a woman before, Monnayage?"

All of these pleasing smells and the comfort of the bed left Monnayage suddenly sleepy. His words of praise and mindless affection turned into low mutterings of nonsense, soon to be replaced by nothing but purrs and murrs.

When Korbane spoke, he opened his eyes--which he hadn't even realized he'd closed--and gave a tiny, tittering laugh. "'Course," he murmured. "My lips," and here he gave another laugh, "aren't celibate." Faces of women, too many women, blinked into his consciousness. Women whose lips had all graced him at one point or another.

But then his lids grew heavy again and he sighed contentedly as he closed them.

"Dammit." She'd missed her window, by the looks, and Korbane wasn't terribly pleased with the outcome. Or, she was, but it just wasn't what she'd been prepared for. Why the hell'd he pass out so quickly? Eh, fuck it. Just get the job over and done with.

She got herself up off the bed, stretching her neck to each side, and heard the satisfying pop of vertebra. Her hands clenched themselves once in anticipation, and she went for the  dagger hidden deep in the inside pocket of her jacket. She grinned with the feel of it, bouncing the blade in her palm, casting an eye to the door, where the hissing and scratching had ceased.

Korbane ran a hand through her tick mane, and crawled back atop the bed, settling herself to straddle Monnayage. She raised the dagger high above her head, with the blade pointed down towards his heart.

Monnayage had not fallen asleep, but his eyes were so heavy, like lead. Even his thoughts seemed laden down by something heavy yet soft. He couldn't grasp anything at all: sounds, smells, sights, thoughts. It all whirled about him in one big mass. So, when he opened his eyes to a sound that actually stood out and saw Korbane hovering over him with a knife, he didn't quite know what he was seeing.

Still smiling, he blinked a few times, eyes flickering from the weapon to the woman. "What're you doing?" he managed. If this was some kind of kinky game, he was afraid he didn't know how to play. Not that he could really move. "Come lie back down with me." He already missed the feel of her warm body pressed against his.

She wasn't going to stop now that she'd started. She couldn't. Who cared that he saw her face as she killed him? He wasn't going to tell anyone. With his feeble words, she just hissed. "We're playing a game, Monnayage," she sneered, "it's called - 'doing my job.'" Not hesitating a moment longer, she brought the blade down in a fast jabbing motion.

But then there was a pounding at the door, and as she swung her head to glare at it, the knife dragged across his torso, certainly doing enough to maim, but not near enough damage to kill. Cursing like a sailor, Korbane's face was a picture of absolute fury. Fuck! Dammitalltohell! Why can't I just get one fucking moment to do my fucking job!

"Hello!?" A man's voice called between the banging, "Hello? Anyone in there!? Ouch! Stop scratching!" Korbane rolled her eyes, and flew off the bed, but not without pressing the dagger to Monnayage's throat. "Stay," she commanded her eyes like molten gold, blazing with the fires of hell, if there was such a place. She was fuming.

Stalking across the room, she opened the door a crack. "What do you want?" She scowled, "I am busy. I have a client..."

"Well, it's just that this here cat," the gentleman sounded nervous, simply from the murderous look on Korbane's face, "she was yowlin' to come up. And I figured she was yours, since she came up here and all-"

"Whatever you do," the assassin interjected, not wanting to hear, and certainly not wanting Maneki to come back in, "do not let go of that-" It was too late though. The cat was out of his arms, and a flash.

A whisper of derision, a flash of silver, then a knock at the door. Monnayage was all too aware of the cold that swept across his middle as Korbane turned to look at the door, followed by a rush of fire that flooded down his side and onto the bedding.

Bewildered, he put a hand to the spot. It felt warm, wet, and when he brought his hand back up to his face to look at it, it was covered in a dripping red liquid.

Monnayage had bled many times before, Maneki making sure to show her wrath to him with her claws on a constant basis, but never had he seen so much of it. The thick life's nectar covered the front of his hand like a shining glove, trickling down onto his face. The smell hung so strongly in the air that he could taste it—bitter-sweet, metallic. All he could do was stare, fascinated by what he saw. Then he lifted his head up off the bed to gaze at the gaping gash on his torso, the ragged tear hidden beneath the blood that continued to pool forth.

He took little notice of the blade to his throat, in too much shock to think of anything other than the fact that he was bleeding.

How? Why?? And why couldn't he feel anything? There was no pain when there should have been.

Voices spoke as if from far away. As he looked to the door, a cream-colored streak shot toward him. Soon something soft and warm was nuzzling his face, his shoulders, his side. Someone was saying his name over and over again, relief and concern coloring its words.

"Maneki?" He blinked. The cat moved to the wound almost at once, licking at it rapidly, though unable to stem the steady flow.

Pressure. He needed to put pressure on it. That tidbit of information clashed to the forefront of his mind and he looked around for something he could use. The effort exhausted him, his sluggishness threatening to pull him down into the soft black void of sleep he'd been about to fall into before the ordeal had occurred. Only his adrenaline kept him awake.

The only material available to him at the moment was the bedding, and that's what he grabbed, pulling the soft fabric toward him and pressing it down on the wound. Maneki promptly adjusted herself to sit on it, providing what weight she could, but she was not heavy enough. She looked to him with her bright blue eyes filled with concern and meowed.

He smiled, then lay his head back. "So tired . . . Maneki."

Korbane blinked at the man in the doorway. Althought 'man' was an understatement. He was gangly, awkward looking teenager. If the assassin hadn't been preoccupied with how she was going to get out of this particularly botched job, she would have laughed at his huge ears. The boy peered around her,

"Wh-what happened?"

"Oh, thank goodness you're here," Korbane exclaimed, deciding to go with a story of distress. "I just came up here to my room, and he was laying there. Bleeding all over my bed!" Her eyes went wide and she stepped around him. "You go over and help him. I'll go-" Run far far away. "-get a doctor. Thanks!" She didn't wait any longer. She was off down the hallway, disappearing into the seedy light of the brothel. And she wasn't about to come back any time soon.

Etharon looked stunned for a moment, casting big, worried eyes to the man and his cat. He fairly tripped over himself getting over the the wounded man, but plopped himself gracelessly beside him, and nudged his hands under the cat, hoping to be able to put a decent amount of pressure on the bleeding. "Man - you're bleedin' worse than a stuck pig! What did you do, anyway, to get all hurt like this?"

It should have concerned him that he was bleeding so much, but at this point in time, Monnayage found that he didn't care. After all, there was no pain to speak of, no feeling at all, really. His whole body felt made of stone, heavy, slowly sinking into the bedding until he was sure he'd fall through the floor below. If there even was a floor. Maybe he was sinking down into an ethereal oblivion.

That wouldn't be so bad.

From far away, as he felt himself falling into sleep, he heard himself answer the new voice. "Women." He laughed. Then he embraced the blackness that came like an old friend.

- - -

Maneki didn't know what to do. Panic threatened to overwhelm her. She couldn't feel Monnayage's mind like she usually could--had been able to since she had been a small kitten. Any bit of it she did manage to grasp was clouded, fading, muddling her own mind until she had to pull out.

This new person, the man she had finally been able to force to follow her, was not one she would have chosen first had she a choice, but he'd been the nearest human and she'd been in a hurry. As he approached Monnayage's bleeding form, she growled at him, ears pulling back and fur rising, but did nothing more.

She was tempted to strike him out of instinct when he reached under her. He was not the enemy, though. He wasn't that woman. He was all she had for help as her companion lay bleeding beneath her.  

Help him! she meowed. Why wasn't he getting help? Why wasn't he doing something other than talking, when Monnayage was clearly in no state to be talking?

She was aware of her companion blacking out, the separation from his mind more defined. This made her mewl softly, very unhappy with the feeling.

"Women?" Etharon repeated, looking decidedly worried. "I never knew women could make you bleed." He was quite confused at this little piece of information. "Hey ... hey mister?" Etharon gulped at the limpness of the other. He reached a hand out to shake Monnayage, trying to bring him out of his stupor.

"He's dead." Etharon went pale, and looked down to his hand, covered in blood, even through the sheet balled up against the wound. "He's dead. Oh gods. I need to get someone else. I don't know what to do!" His breathing started to come out quite erratically, and he very nearly picked up the cat, wanting to shake her and ask "WHAT DO I DO!!?"

He didn't though. Right, boy-o. This is what you've always wanted. A chance to be a hero. That chick isn't coming back. I bet she was the one who did it. I should get a doctor. Right. Doctor.

"Still taking his time to get away, he felt the sharp sting of claws grazing over the back of his hand, and he yelped away. He glowered at the cat. "Alright, alright. I'm going.

"Here, kitty," he called in a shaky voice, "come sit on here again. I'll go and get someone. Someone who can help. Don't let him die, okay? Am I talking to a cat? Idiot. Shut up. Why are you talking? Ugh! Doctor! Go!" He pulled himself up, and took off tearing downstairs and into the streets, looking for anyone who might help.

---

It was early morning by the time the doctor had been found, tended to Monnyage, and left again, leaving an exhausted young boy slumped into a chair. The doctor, who had also happened to have been a magically gifted healer, had ceased the bleeding and closed up the gaping gash and had given Etharon strict instructions to not let the patient go anywhere for a few days. He'd be sore, and more than a little woozy after losing so much blood.

So Etharon had no choice but to sit at the wounded's side, and wait for him to wake up so that he could relay this message.

The first thing Monnayage became aware of when he ebbed back into consciousness was the light, breathing object on his chest. Whatever it was, the warmth it gave comforted him, and the noise it made upon his waking reassured him with its rumbling. Before he even knew that it was Maneki, he felt a sense of relief from the presence.

For some reason his eyes did not want to open, nor did the signals his body sent him make much sense. For one, the smells--besides Maneki's cat-like one--were all wrong. His house did not smell of almonds and desert heat. It almost overwhelmed him it was so strong.

In fact, everything came off stronger. Sounds especially. While Maneki's purr soothed him, it was still loud. The sound of his own breathing, his own heart, even, pounded in his ears and caused a stabbing pain in his head to start.

But wait. It wasn't just his own breathing. Someone else was there. And, as he focused a little more, he could detect something like the smell of . . . blood?

<Yes,> Maneki said, answering his thoughts. While she'd said it as softly as possible, the sudden intrusion of words felt like a shout, a horn that clanged around against the walls of his head, and he groaned.

<Wha--why can't I move? Where am I?> he asked feebly as he tried to stem off the pain in his head. <Who else is here?>

Instead of answering with words, for which Monnayage was grateful, Maneki shared with him what she saw. The cat's vision was slightly distorted, her perception of color and light being different than his own, but he could see that she lay atop him. He was under the covers of an unfamiliar bed. Whatever room he was in, it was small, though decently furnished.

And there, beside the bed, sat a man. Or a boy. Monnayage couldn't tell which, he looked so . . . scrawny.

Maneki turned her head so that he could see the linen on the floor. Through her eyes, the red staining it seemed to glow. It could be nothing but the blood he smelled, and there was a lot of it.

At first he felt worried that it might be Maneki's, or even the lad that sat beside him, but that didn't make much sense. His cat seemed fine, as did the boy's. So then whose. . . . ?

But of course it was his. How could he not have recognized that right away? It smelled like him.

That woke him up a little. His eyes, though so heavy he wouldn't be surprised to find they'd been turned to stone in the night, opened. Vision blurry, he couldn't make out much, though he recognized many of the blurry things from what Maneki had shown him.

"What--nnk!" As he'd tried to move to face the stranger next to him, a bruising pain made itself known on his torso. "Gods!" he said through clenched teeth. What in the seven hells of some unknown religion had happened last night?!

He was supposed to be watching. But a fitful sort of dozing had captured him, and he rested with his chin on his chest. It wasn't until some inarticulate sounds came from the stranger in the bed that he prised his eyes open. "Huhwhat?" He lifted his head, and wiped at the sleepy drool leaking from the corner of his mouth. "Oh hi! You're awake!" He instantly perked up, and began to grin like a right ninny.

"Doc said you're not allowed to move. So you just sit right there. That was some cut you got. Man, you were bleeding like a waterfall!" He ran a hand through his dishevelled hair, and carried on. "You have a clever kitty, that's for sure. She - it is a she, right? - came to get some help for you. That other woman up here was useless!" He shook his head and sighed. "You alright?"

It was a like a child had found the pans in the kitchen and begun banging away on them with a metal spoon—and it hurt. Oh, Kia, how it hurt! The guy's voice exploded in Monnayage's head, booming on and on without end until he thought his skull would burst open and splatter all over the place.

"Ahh—stop, stop!" he cried, turning his head away as if that would stop the noise. "Stop shouting! My head's going to split. And what are you talking about? What woman?" He noticed that some of his words slurred, his tongue not working the way it should. At this point in time he felt like he'd been run over by a carriage.

Not allowed to move? He wanted to laugh at that one. He couldn't move. Not yet, anyway. Every passing second gave him more strength, along with more pain.

<I warned you about her,> Maneki said, though there was no gloating in her voice. There might have been, were she not so colored with concern for him. Her paws pushed down on him over the bedding, trying to keep him in place.

But he had no idea what anyone was talking about.

"I'm not yelling though," Etharon sat forwards in his chair, craning his neck to get a better look at the man. He pursed his lips for a moment, and then ran a hand through his hair again before rubbing his eyes. "The woman - you don't remember? Man... she was gorgeous." He let a goofy little grin fall over his face as he recounted what he had managed to see of shapely legs, fiery hair and eyes the colour of molten gold.

"Said it was her room, and she found you here. She went to get some help, but she never came back." The boy shrugged. "Either way, you were bleeding pretty bad. Your kitty here is a clever one. Kept yowling till someone came up. Ah, I said that already, didn't I?"

He got up from the chair, and leaned over Monnayage, his eyes concerned, but at the same time amused at the apparent lack of memory, and at the antics of the cat. He joined in with her, and put a light hand on his shoulder to keep him still. "Doc said you lost a lot of blood, and whatever it was that happened to you, it was with something real sharp. He said too, that the swelling will go down by itself. And it wont look so bad in a few months time."

Not yelling. Not yelling, he said! How could the kid not be yelling, when the whole room seemed to spin with any word that came out of his mouth? And, to top it off, none of the words he was saying made any sense at all. Monnayage'd remember a woman as beautiful as the kid was describing.

<Where'd you find this guy, Maneki?> he asked with a mental wry smile. He didn't know whether to humor him or not, though it was true that he was in pain and the kid seemed to know why.

Maneki gave him a cold stare. <He was the best I could find in the given situation. The only one that would listen. Not much to look at, no. But he helped me in saving your life.>

<Saving my . . . ?>

Monnayage stared at the hand on his shoulder, then looked into Etharon's face, apprehension fluttering up into his chest like a minute hummingbird. "Won't . . . look so bad?" he repeated blankly.

His mind couldn't register what the guy was saying, but the words had a sense of foreboding to them. His hand went to his abdomen where most of the pain emanated, the bed covers shielding anything he might have felt so that all his hand rested on was the soft material.

"What do you mean?" he demanded.

"Just careful!" Etharon cried, watching the hand sweep over the sore spots. Scratching the back of his head nervously, he tried to push Monnayage's hand away. "You really don't remember anything, do you? Man... you were a mess! I mean, you look much better now, but far out... the only time I've seen that much blood was when my brother slaughtered a pig! Blood was everywhere!"

He shuddered, and then leaned back in his chair. "You got cut, man. Like... really bad. The Doc was a healer, so you don't have any stitches or nothing, just a teeny bit of a scar. But you'll be right as rain in a few days!"

Monnayage might have been a little more insulted about being compared to a slaughtered pig if there hadn't been a particular word that came shortly after. A terrible word. A word Monnayage had never wanted associated with himself in any way.

"Scar?" he repeated, voice breaking like a panicked, pubescent boy.

Ignoring the boy's hand and shoving Maneki off of his chest in his quick movement, he ripped back the bed sheets with such force that they made a low snapping noise like a thick whip.

It was the ugliest thing he'd ever seen. And it was on his body. An irritated pink line across his lower torso, the sealed and healing skin puckered and swollen. He put a hand to it, horrified to find that it was real.

The kid called this a "teeny scar"?!

A kind of strangled noise found its way out of his throat at he stared at it in horror, his stomach and heart dropping down into a pit of blackness from which there was no return. He didn't know what to do, what to say. He wanted it gone! There had to be a way to get rid of it.

Why couldn't he've just died from it? Anything but this!

"Oh—oh gods! Kia!" Several other panicked expletives escaped him, some making Maneki glare at him. "What—call him back! He messed up! He has to fix it! Where is he? I'll go get him."

But when he went to push himself up, his head spun wildly and he fell back onto the pillow. Maneki growled lightly and moved back to his now bare chest, as if she could single-handedly keep him there. Why had this happened? What had he done to deserve this?

Etharon moved back from the guy's sudden movements. He looked a little stricken himself. He didn't want to be responsible for the man's slow recovery. And it was going to be slow if he kept moving around like this. "Hey - hey stop! Slow down -" he protests were useless though. Etharon's wide eyes flickered between the scar and Monnayage's face.

"You can't go get the doctor now!" Etharon laughed, a little incredulous, "There's nothing wrong with you! It'll look better soon...

"Jeez man, calm down! I mean, it's just a scar! Even I got one!" Trying to calm the other man down, he lifted his shirt to reveal a silvery line running on his right side side just a little up from his hip, and running diagonally up his stomach. " See!"

"Nothing wrong with me?" Monnayage wailed. At this point he didn't care that the guy saw him acting like a spoiled child. "I'm ruined! I'm revolting! No woman will ever want to look at me now."

And then he looked over and saw the kid's scar; a grotesque tarnishing of features that might otherwise have been desirable were the owner of the body not so scrawny and gangly. A tarnishing feature Monnayage too would now have.

He made no effort in hiding his disgust at what the guy was showing him, his weakness making him lose any tact he might have had. "It's not just a scar," he said, once again focused on himself, shaking his head and practically mewling like a cat in distress. "It's a death sentence. Do me a favor, will you? And just kill me now?"

<You're acting like a kitten,> Maneki said, then shook her head. <No. That would be an insult to cats. You're acting like a human child. I will not let you kill yourself over something so trivial. Yes, it's extremely ugly, but I went through too much trouble to save your life for you to go and die. So stay still,> she lay down on his chest,<and stop being ridiculous.>

Etharon snorted. This guy is crazy! I mean, it's only a little scar, and he thinks he's revolting? He's not revolting! He's a good looking guy. He nodded to himself, and once Monnayage had finished his lamenting, he piped up.

"I'm not going to kill you! Man - you are worse than Shoshanna and Miriym with the theatrics. Anyone would think you'd had a leg missing or something." He shook his head and chuckled. "Don't worry, you are not revolting. You're really good looking! I mean - hah - I mean, your face is nice... and... uhm..." he was going bright red, realising that what he was saying could be taken in a very different way if he wasn't careful. But, as always, he was unable to stop the words from coming out of his mouth.

"You have nice arms, and when the scar settles, it'll be a ... be a... a story! Yeah! And you can tell all the girls that you were in a fight to save a ... a..." his eyes searched around the room, and only found Maneki. "No, not a cat... a BABY! Yeah! Tell 'em you were saving a baby from a wolf or something."

Soshimmi and Mirr—what? How could this guy be talking about himself when he, Monnayage the magnificent, was going through a personal crisis?

At the mention of a lost leg, Monnayage had to check to make sure that he did, in fact, still have both of them, lifting the covers that now only hid everything below his hips to see. And yes, he did have both legs.

He didn't realize his room partner was still speaking until he looked back up.

Was he . . . was he hitting on him? And now the kid was blushing, oh gods. What kind of sick, twisted person would hit on a guy, let alone a guy that lay dying in bed, ready to commit suicide? Sure, he was good-looking, much less so now that he had a scar, but still!

Brow quirked, Monnayage stared. Then he shook his head, a movement that made his head swim. "Look, kid. I know you're trying to help, but you don't understand. I can't have a scar! And why the hell can't I remember anything?"

Etharon was confused. If it had been him, lying in the bed, he would have just been thankful to be alive. Was this stranger really so vain that he felt like his world was coming crashing down, just because of a scar? He flopped himself back into the deat, crossing a leg over his kness, and folded his arms loosely across his chest. With his head tilted to one side, he narrowed his eyes and pursed his lips, as if trying to tell whether or not having a scar was actually going to do the man permanent damage, besides the obvious marring of skin.

He shrugged it off. There was no point in talking about it any more, or for now, anyway. It was clear the other was worked up about it, when he should have been resting. Trying to defuse the potentially volatile situation, he changed tack.

"Maybe you were, I dunno... poisoned or something? What's the last thing you remember? Whenever I lost something, my mother used to always have try and retrace my steps. You should try it!"

Still in self-pity over the scar on his torso, Monnayage put one arm on his forehead dramatically and turned his head a little to groan. In pain, weak, and ugly, this was the worst day of his life.

His head still ached, though the sounds of himself and the other talking didn't bother it as much as it had. When he thought back to what he could last remember, it throbbed mercilessly. Images swam in and out of focus, moving too quickly for him to grasp them—it was like trying to grab smoke or fog.

"I remember . . . floral curtains," he said, dead pan. How that was even remotely helpful was beyond him. "And . . . the smell of almonds."

He couldn't have been poisoned! Who would want to poison him? He had no enemies. That he couldn't think of, anyway. Sure he annoyed other guys, but it was out of sport.

"Gods, I wish I'd died," he finally said. All he could think about was the blemish on his beautiful skin.

<You met a woman here at the whorehouse,> Maneki said. <I imagine she poisoned your water when you—we—weren't looking. Then she led you up here and tried to kill you.> He chin came up in indignation. <She literally threw me out of the room, and you did nothing to stop her. But I forgive you.>

Monnayage opened his eyes, staring at the ceiling in thought. "The woman. Did she say anything to you?"

"Well, that helps a lot," Etharon rolled his eyes at Monnayage's recollections, and again at the melodrama. Definitely Miryim. She's just like that. One broken fingernail and the world is falling down around her ears. The boy scratched the back of his head, and then just sat back for a while. Things had fallen silent for a time, and he was glad that the whining had stopped. Gave him a chance to think.

If the guy couldn't remember, then it was most likely he'd been poisoned. Or taken a knock to the head. But that woman. Yeah ... there had been something strange about her. "Well, when I first came up, she said she was busy, and had a client. And then she saw the cat, and started flipping out. And then..." he rubbed at his temple, "... Then she said something about being glad I was there, and that she'd just found you..."

He frowned. Something isn't right with that picture. She was all grumpy one minute, and then all worried the next. One minute she didn't want me here, and the next I was a life-saver, and could I watch him while she got a doctor. Which she never did.

"Man, I think that lady did it! I think she tried to kill you!" His eyes flickered over to the door, and then back to Monnayage. "We should get out of here. But wait... you can't go anywhere. What are we going to do? I mean... this is someone's room! A room in a brothel, I mean. And ... well... I guess you are good looking enough to be a Peach, right? Could you pretend? If we needed to?"

Great. So there was a woman out there that wanted him dead. That turned his insides to stone—a gloom as dark as shadows washing over him and mingling with the depression he already felt for the permanent injury to his good looks.

Never would he harm one of the opposite sex; never would he demean her, make her uncomfortable, do anything to disrespect her. Not willingly, at least. He prided himself on his moral character, the one distinguishing difference between himself and his brother. Yet somehow he'd come to make an enemy from one he never wanted to be an enemy toward.

Had he said or done something offensive when he'd been poisoned? Even as the thought took hold and he almost become overwhelmed by fear for what he might have done, he realized that no, he had not. The way Maneki spoke of the assailant, she'd been after him from the beginning.

"I could pretend," he finally said in a low tone, voice buried under his arm that still rested on his face. "But what would be the point? With this scar, I'm ugly. I'll never pass off as anything more than a beggar, a vagabond!"

With another groan, he grabbed the pillow he lay on and pulled it out from under his head to press it to his face, a half-hearted attempt to smother himself. "Besides," he said into the down-filled pillow whose smell of almonds made him feel sick to his stomach, his voice even more muffled. "No one's going to kick us out. We're in a brothel. Clients stay in rooms for hours at a time sometimes."

Gods. How long had he been here, anyway? Days? His stomach felt as hollow as a cave. And as if to echo his thoughts, Maneki promptly said, <All of this caring for you like a mother cat has made me hungry.>

"You really need to meet Miryim," Etharon laughed, trying to take the pillow from Monnayage. "Man, come on. It's tiny. It'll fade, and you'll never even notice it." He sighed, and sat back. If Monnayage wanted to smother himself now, Etharon wasn't going to stop him. He was still trying to figure out how he got into this mess, exactly.

Sitting. That's all I was doing. And not even inside, either! 'Least now they can't say I never been in one of these places. Dallagahn and Ellowin aint never been here, I bet. Bet I could even make it sound like I actually... did something with ... a girl. Yeah. Spent a night in a Peach's room. That'll make a good-

One, two short raps on the door forced Etharon's head up, and his face paled at the voice that came through the heavy wood.

"Korbane! Is the job done?"

Etharon's eyes were as wide as saucers. "Hide!" He hissed, before grabbing the blankets, and throwing them over Monnayage's head, not caring whether he was upsetting the cat or not. He leapt up and ran for the door. "Y-y-yes!?" He called, forcing his voice into a falsetto.

"He's dead then?"

"Y-y-yes?" Hie eyes darted around the room. He was scared as anything.

"Let me see..." The door handle turned, and Etharon pushed his body up against the door. He had his back pressed flat up against it, palms smacked against the grain. His eyes were wildly darting to and fro. "No! No... you can't come in. He ... uh... he smells!"

A low growling was heard. "Korbane... I'm coming in." The door heaved, and Etharon went sprawling across the floor. In stepped a surly looking man, hand clenched around a dagger. His eyes went to the bed, and then to Etharon.

"What the fuck!?"

Monnayage only half listened to the kid's horrible attempts at cheering him up. It was hard to take to heart what someone with a giant, ugly scar on his body had to say, especially when that someone considered said giant, ugly scar to be nothing. Any mark on Monnayage's perfect skin made his heart fester with blackness; and now here he was with something permanent, something that wouldn't just heal over as if nothing had happened.

Of course he would notice it. Of all people, he would notice something that didn't belong on his body. Only an idiot would think otherwise.

Then there came a knock at the door, a hard rap that bellied a secretive curtness, and as he tried to register what the voice said from beyond the door, a blanket was suddenly thrown on top of him. Maneki yowled angrily at the invasion of darkness, squirming around until she found her way out from under it.

Moving the pillow from off of his face, Monnayage pulled the blanket down and turned to stare as the kid ran around like a chicken with its head cut off, then proceeded to slam himself up against the door as the handle started to turn. Before Monnayage could register what the hell was going on, the human door blockade went flying across the room and a stranger stood in the doorway.

By what the man had been asking, about someone being dead, this could only be someone involved in what had happened to him. Someone responsible for his new—oh, Kia, he hated even using the word—scar.

Ignoring the pain and dizziness that threatened to pull him down into a blanket of blackness, Monnayage sat up, the effort all but draining him. The stranger had suddenly become familiar to him. "You—I recognize you," he said through clenched teeth, baffled. This was the guy he'd met at some bar the other night, the disgruntled one with the attractive female friend that hadn't been able to resist Monnayage's charms.

Through his spinning head, he couldn't understand what this guy was doing here, in a Brothel of all places, when he had a girl already—and a fine girl at that. "What—what are talking about, my being dead?"

Etharon scrambled up from the floor in a tangle of long limbs, and reached for the little dagger at his side. Not that he knew how to use it, but anything right now was better than nothing. The man however, just sneered at him, and turned his attention to Monnayage. "Why aren't you dead?" He questioned, before stalking over to the bed. His hands were balled into meaty fists, ready to hammer Monnayage himself, seeing as how his precious coin had gone to waste with the useless assassin.

"You. You are supposed to be dead. Never pay a woman to do a man's job." He glared, and inched closer. "Who do you think you are, little rich boy, that you can go flirting with any girl you like, hmm? And boys to, by the looks," he cast an uncaring look to the quivering boy by the door, and snorted. "Fat lot of use your boyfriend is. Look at him, wobbling like jelly."

"Hey!" Etharon cried indignantly, even though it was true. The knife in his hands was jiggling unsteadily in his sweaty hands. The man turned his attention back to Monnayage.

"Well, you wont be flirting no more. You're going to be dead. Now get up, and fight me like a man. I want to know I killed you fair and square."

Despite the seriousness of the situation, Monnayage couldn't ground his mind or his thoughts. He felt like he was floating between reality and some fuzzy place where nothing needed to make sense. He watched as the man approached, fists balled, and blinked. This guy, whom he'd only met once with his attractive woman, wanted him dead?

Things didn't add up.

Seeing the advancing threat, Maneki spat loudly, ears pulled back, and came to the edge of the bed, muscles tensed. Monnayage could feel her intimidating menace, bleary as it was, in his mind and it gave him extra strength.

He looked to the kid on the floor with his shaking hands and inexperienced hold on his weapon. Pride was something Monnayage had a lot of, and even with this being a life or death situation, he couldn't let this man go and think things that just weren't true. "He's not a boyfriend," he said, wanting to curse at how his words slurred with the effort of keeping himself upright. His mouth and the rest of his body didn't want to work at the same time, it being too strenuous.

So this beef of a man—this commoner—was responsible for the scar on his body. Responsible for the end of his life as he knew it. That grated, and he found himself pulling his legs out over the side of the bed regardless of the pain and dizziness it caused. He laughed through it, a mocking chuckle. "Fair and square?" he repeated. "So you call cornering a man that's been gravely injured by a woman you hired to kill him 'fair and square'? I think—" he winced and clutched at the closed wound as Maneki went about trying to force back onto his back with her paws, "I think you need to get your priorities set straight, dear sir."

Too weak. He was too weak to fight, but there was no way he was going to turn down a challenge. He'd too much pride for that. However, as he slowly got to his feet, blackness crawled into his vision and he stumbled forward, cursing loudly as he fell into the man, grabbing at his large shoulders to keep himself up.

<Monnayage! Get back into bed. I can handle him!> Maneki said, half pleading, a tone she rarely used.

The man looked down at Monnayage in disdain, and pushed him back. "Pah. Can't even stand up straight. Well then," he cast a look over his shoulder to Etharon, still holding the knife in his quaking hand. He rolled his eyes, and turned his attention back to Monnayage. "Okay. So we make this a fair fight then. I'll be waiting. Watching. You better watch your back." Then he spat at Monnayage's feet, and turned to leave.

To Etharon, he was like a mountain - not that he was much taller than the boy himself, but he looked unmovable. He squeaked out "D-d-d-don't hurt me!" The other laughed roughly, and let a fist fly, knocking Etharon squarly against the jaw. Etharon felt his head rock back with the impact, and stars danced in his vision. The knife in his hand dropped with a clatter, as he reeled backwards, and slumped down to the ground, holding his chin in his hands. The man snorted as he went out the door. "Name's Higham. Don't forget it."

With that hell just happened? Etharon thought, trying to shake the dazed splotches from his vision. "You ... you get back into bed," he mumbled, looking up to Monnayage. "And then we gotta work out how to get you hidden from him."

The man's shoulder proved to be great support for Monnayage trying to get his balance back, but then he felt hands on him and he was forcefully shoved back onto the bed, the sudden movement and impact sending sharp pain up from his side. All he could do was curse loudly and try not to pass out.

When he recovered his sense, he opened his eyes in time to see his assailant spit at his feet. The act repulsed him and he made a face, but the guy was already turning to leave.

"No!" Monnayage said, trying to sit back up and failing. "I can fight you now! Why hire someone to kill me and then not even finish the job? I should--" but his words were cut short when there came the sound of a fist on flesh, followed by something metal hitting the ground, then something heavier.

Higham. He would remember the name. He wasn't normally one to hold a grudge--in fact, he couldn't remember ever having done so, but this Higham was the cause of his scar, his ugliness.

"Get me up off this bed, dammit," he said. "I don't want to be hidden."

"No way," Etharon wheezed, rolling himself into a ball, and then onto his knees, finally pushing himself up to stand. "Nuh-uh," he repeated, staggering across to Monnayage. Trying to look concerned amongst a sudden onset of nauseousness, the gangly young man picked up Monnayage's feet and turned them, trying to ensure that the other was well and truly settled into bed. He even went far enough as to throw the blankets at the invalid, before dropping into the chair with a heavy thud.

His head came crashing down into his hands. "What are we going to do? I mean - you can't do anything, and I'm about as much use as a noodle. I can't believe I just stood there. I'm sorry man, I'm really sorry." He sounded pitiful, and as he peered through his fingers, he looked just as distraught.

"What the hell did you do, anyways? It seems you got a big problem with ladies. One lures you up, and tried to kill you, but only cause you were hitting on someone else's missus! Far out! Keep it in your pants, already!"

Whatever sort of poison his assailant had used on him was wearing off. The dizziness ebbed, helping only to make his already splitting headache even worse. His limbs no longer felt like lead, now only so drained of energy that they shook with fatigue.

He hated it. Why would anyone want to do this to him? Why?

Feeling immature and in no mood to lie idle in bed after a man had just come in to kill him, Monnayage gave a low growl much like a cat's and tossed the blankets off of himself. The effort made his arms shake with strain, but he really could not care less.

Who was this kid, to tell him what to do and expect him to listen? He couldn't even fend for himself. He was a worm, the lowest on the food chain of human command. Animal instincts told him that he, Monnayage, was above this runt.

"I didn't do anything," he snarled. "Not that I can think of. That Higham's just an ugly bastard. Jealous of me, more like." The pain in his side started again and reminded him of his predicament, making him groan pathetically. "But there's nothing to be jealous of now. Not now that I've got a . . . scar."

The word even tasted ugly on his tongue.

Maneki came to curl up on his chest once more, glaring at him with her big blue eyes. <Oh, do be quiet already, or I'll give you another one to complain about. And it'll be in a place where you can't hide it.>

He stared back at her a moment, too angry to respond. Then he rubbed his nose with his arm, the smell of his blood on the sheets by the bed making his stomach roil. He'd never liked that smell, not even when it was his own.

"What kind of poison did that girl use, anyway? I'm so . . . drained." It was a change of subject, at least.

Etharon narrowed his eyes at the other man's clear objections to being looked after, but let him be. If he didn't want the blankets on, he wasn't going to force him. Let him be a little sissy boy - he didn't care. His continued dramatics were starting to grate on his nerves too - melodrama was one of the many reasons he'd got away from his family in the first place. The boy just closed his eyes in a pained kind of way, listening to the moaning.  

"How am I supposed to know?" Etharon asked, scrunching up his face at the question, and opening one eye warily. He didn't know anything about the woman, or poisons, and didn't have the faintest idea why the other man might be asking him. He leaned back in his chair and sighed. "I don't know anything about poisons - you wanna maybe find someone who does?"

"How am I supposed to know?" the other asked, and Monnayage heard the insolence in the tone. How dare the kid talk to him like that--him, Monnayage, a guy that could beat the little punk up even in the condition in which he found himself? And of course the kid wouldn't know anything about poisons--he didn't seem to know anything about anything. What a useless excuse for a human being.

"No, I don't want you to go find someone who does," he growled. Knowing how the kid had been acting thus far, he might just run off and not come back. Already he'd gotten himself into something way over his little, innocent head.

Maneki stared at him from her resting place on his chest, her tail twitching curiously behind her. Even though the drug or poison or whatever it was that had been used was leaving his system, he still found it hard to read what the cat felt. Was that amusement in her eyes, or something more akin to surprise? <You're awfully moody,> she finally said, sounding as if she were merely voicing an small observation.

At that he had to look away, letting out a derisive, "Ha. Right." Moody, she said. Of course he was moody! Couldn't a guy be distraught for once without everyone going down his throat about it?

He lifted his arm and gave the cat a firm shove off, then sat up--swearing under his breath when it took more effort than he'd ever thought possible. There was no way he was going to let some stupid weakness stop him. "Hey, kid," he said, looking to the other that sat lounging in a chair. "Help me stand. I'm going after that guy. That Higham."

Etharon rolled his eyes at the other's determined attempts to get up, and the cat's equally as determined efforts to keep him down. Smart cat, the boy thought with a certain affection towards the animal that could only come from an animal lover. Etharon was definitely nursing a sore ego - as much as he wanted to be a hero, he was now more than aware of his shortfall.

"Etharon," he muttered, finally getting sick of being called 'kid'. "My name's Etharon, and I bet you're not even a year older than me. So quit calling me kid." He looked up with a defiant little spark in his eye, daring the other to continue with the derogatory name calling. "And no. You can't go anywhere! If you can't stand by yourself, then you definitely can't go after that thug."

His boiling temper licked at the fringes of his self control. In the wake of the heat from it, he had the desire to slug Etharon in the face, to give him another bruise much bigger than Higham's fist had. He glared at the other from his sitting place on the edge of the bed, sizing him up. Etharon looked to be a man that could blow away in the slightest wind, yet he had the gall to flare defiance in Monnayage's--a guy who was much stronger than him, and looked it too--face.

A mouse facing a lion. Of all the strangest things to see. Maybe he had some spunk to him after all.

Unable to help himself, an appreciative grin split across Monnayage's face.

"Ha. Only a year younger? Go figure. Still," and he grabbed the bedpost to slowly get to his feet, legs shaking, "you proved little resistance to Mr. Higham, so excuse me for going on with calling you 'kid'--bug off, Manni!" The cat was winding her way around his feet in angry figure-eights, hissing and growling under her breath as she gave an occasional painful swipe to his toes.

Her attacks only became more frantic at this, however, and soon he had to try and dance away from her without falling over or letting go of the bedpost.

Closing this due to inactivity. If you'd like to start it up again, PM me.