Spirits of the Earth

Owl didn't get much sleep that night. She was awakened early by her handmaiden pulling back the curtains and announcing with entirely too much cheer that she needed to rise and shine and get ready for the festivities later on, which left her confused and groggy--until, with a smack of realization, she remembered the party!

Another noble family was hosting a formal ball and she and her family were attending, of course. Her father had a strong working relationship with Lord Feldyr and they were a strong, old family that was wealthier even than them--and they had a son that was a little older than her, too. With a groan, she flopped face down into her pillow until her handmaiden dragged her out of bed.

The rest of the day was spent in misery. She didn't normally mind being fussed over, having grown up with it, but she hated it when she had something to hide. So she made sure to pick out her dress first (one that was low-necked enough to please her mother, but with long sleeves to hide her arm) and when it came time to bathe, she sent her handmaiden away on a mission doomed to fail, since she didn't actually own the shoes she described to the woman, but insisted that she did and that she absolutely needed them.

And so she managed to bathe and dress without being caught, only needing her handmaiden's assistance in lacing her up, and though her wound looked worse, she cleaned and dressed it as best as she could. If she endured the night, she could figure something out later.

With her pink hair worn down and loose, pulled from her face with a bejeweled hairnet, and her lips stained and cheeks rouged, she was ready to face the night.

As ready as she would be, anyway. Even though she grew up in dresses, it felt strangely unnatural.

Time to lose Owl, stop playing pretend, and become who she really was.

But as she rode with her family in their carriage, she longed for the streets.

They arrived at the Feldyr estate, and no sooner had she stepped from the carriage with the footman's help that her mother started fussing for the tenth time that night, fixing her hair and adjusting her dress. Einin tugged at the bodice when she was done; she didn't want her tits hanging out.

"Remember to stand up straight and hold your head up proud. Let the man see you're a woman now!" she said with a smile and a kiss on the cheek, and adjusted her dress again. "You got 'em, flaunt them, honey. That's what my mother always told me. Now smile! And actually talk to the Feldyr lad this time, hm? This is a very important night for your father."

She linked arms with her daughter. "And you're getting far too old to remain unwed."

And so Einin smiled and walked with her mother up to the gates of the Feldyr estate, where a uniformed man stood checking names off a list and ushering people inside. Her father was already there with the invitation, and they were soon waved inside.

The ballroom was merry and festive, and Einin went through the motions, greeting lords and ladies she'd met before, and ones that were new to her, and dragging her feet toward the Feldyrs. She'd met the lad before, and there was nothing wrong with him. But this matchmaking business did not excite her.

Ryk Handelaar, wealthy merchant, never arrived early to an event. He usually tried to arrive last, it was good for catching the attention of all the attendees. But tonight he had some business to conduct with Feldyr, and he wanted it out of the way before the little bird got there. So when he arrived a good half an hour before the festivities were to begin, the servants were unsure what to do. He ignored them mostly, walking in with a young woman in tow, to find the house man not far inside.

"Vineck, I have business to conduct with your master, and I'm sure he'd like it as much as I would, to have it completed before the party. I'd be grateful if you could fetch him, or get his instruction on where to lead me for our meeting."

Ryk Handelaar, wealthy merchant, didn't have to wait long for Vineck to return. Men like him never waited long. He was lead to Lord Feldyr's study, and the man waited there with two cigars in hand. As he entered he signaled the young woman to stay outside.

"Vineck, could you have a servant fetch my beautiful date a drink while she waits. Perhaps if there is a free house boy, he could show her the gardens. That's a good man." And Ryk tossed the house man a gold coin for his troubles.

He turned back to Feldyr and the man had a cut cigar held out for him. He reached for it, and let the man light it as he puffed. "I know you prefer I not tip your servants, but I must make an exception for Vineck. He puts up with my ridiculous demands," he motioned at the papers Feldyr had spread out, "Shall we?"

---

Her family did not arrive as early as Ryk would have thought they would. There was some talk that a match was to be made between their families. The boy Feldyr seemed a bit young to getting married in Ryk's view of things. Leave weddings and business to men, not boys. Lord Feldyr seemed practical enough to realize this, but Einin Beirne wasn't getting any younger, and he probably recognized the power he'd gain by marrying her into his family. A servant he had bribed ran up to him with word that her carriage had arrived. He politely excused himself from his conversation about dual-masted or tri-masted vessels, and positioned himself between the door and the Feldyrs.

"Caitlyn," he turned to his closely following date, "Rufus asked you to attend this ball with me because I have a special need of your talents. You are an exquisite creature, and very talented, from what he's told me." She only smiled at his compliment, and he continued, glad that she didn't speak unnecessarily, "I want you to draw the attention of the young Lord Feldyr, and be sure he leads you out of the ball where Einin Beirne will see." With only a nod she was off.

The Beirne family was making fairly quick rounds, and clearly headed for the Feldyrs. He waited for the perfect moment to insert himself into their path, and thrust a greeting upon them.

"A good evening to you Lord Beirne. Lady Beirne, you are looking as gorgeous as always," he said with a sly wink, "It has been much too long since we've all conversed. I see your daughter is with you this evening." He took the hand of Einins wounded arm in his and passed his lips gently across the back of it. As he released her hand he reached up and gently squeezed her arm right below the wound. He could feel the thin dressing she had underneath and wondered if her parents knew of the wound, and what excuse she had given. "Such a lovely young bird you've grown into."

"Do you like my attire this evening," he asked, plucking at his pink trimmed black coat, set over a pink vest. The color matched Einin's hair perfectly. Just then he turned, noting Caitlyn was trailing behind the young Lord Feldyr.

"Well it seems the boy Feldyr has made an early catch this evening. A pity, I hoped to converse with him," he hid the grin that briefly spread across his face.

Just as Caitlyn and young Lord Feldyr were heading out to the balcony for some quaint conversation and goo-goo eyed stares, a certain assassin dressed in a deep-wine red suit was making his way into the room. They bumped shoulders, of which, after pausing to take in Jarrett's tall stature, the young  Lord Feldyr humbly bowed and muttered his apologies. Jarrett only stood there, hands in his pockets and made small talk- nothing no one else could have heard, before turning his way into the room, so that both Rufus and Einin would see that he had arrived to the party (not that he realized either was there at present).

He was smoothing down his coat tails as he walked. After all, he had climbed up through the back. No sense of coming in through the front. He didn't have an invitation, after all..
though he did have an alias to use this night. Some Landen Hazameirne, a cousin or whatever to the Beirne family. Landen Hazameirne.. he just hoped he remembered it right, and remained back by the balcony, green eyes scanning the crowd in that cool, collected nature only an assassin like Jarrett L'isson could possess.

Einin's mother, Anya, smiled graciously at Lord Handelaar, and Einin curtseyed a greeting, head bowed. She recognized him, having seen him many times before at multiple functions. A confident man, full of swagger, and seemingly never far from a pretty lady. Their interactions had always been brief, as she tried to make herself small and scarce, but she'd found herself watching him on several occasions. There was something ruggedly attractive about him despite the fancy suit, and the weapons he carried intrigued her. But more than that, she envied his sheer presence. He spoke, and people listened.

"Good evening, Lord Handelaar," she started to say when he took up her hand and kissed it, and she smiled like she was was supposed to smile. Odd, that he wouldn't go for her right hand--ow!

The squeeze was gentle, but the skin around the cut was tender. She winced, just a slight facial twitch, and her eyes went wide. Looking up at him, she met his eyes, and her breath caught in her throat. That was deliberate.

Little bird?

Her mother had moved on, abandoning her to mingle, and Einin snatched her hand back. He knew. There were only a few people who would. And only one who...

Ohmygods.

His red hair was clean and brushed, his skin was washed, and his nose and scars were gone--the makeup!--but she knew those eyes, and that voice--how had she not placed it before?!--and...oh shit...

And the pink trim on his suit. That was the apple in the boar's mouth.

Her pulse began to race and for a second she couldn't breathe. He'd even had someone lure Feldyr away!

No. Way. No way!

"Y...you!" was all she could say, and for one of the few times in her life, she was genuinely at a loss for words.

Ryk noticed that as Feldyr and Caitly exited, a man he didn't see exit onto the balcony, entered from it. It was doubtful that any of these lackwits would catch it, and surely Einin was too caught up in the formalities of greeting to notice. From here he wasn't totally sure, but he thought he recognized the figure, casually standing there. He wouldn't be surprised if it was that assassin. There were few who could scale to a third floor balcony and look so calm and collected afterward.

"You do me too much honor. It's Master Handelaar, little bird. I haven't managed to buy myself a Lordship yet. There isn't any nobility in my blood. Perhaps I could marry into the title," he gave her a sly smile at that.

He noticed that the moment had caught in her mind, she made the connections. So her mind was as fast as her feet. He looked at Einin quizzically, and arched an eyebrow, feigning confusion.

"I'm sorry? Have I missed something? I was out quite late last evening, and I'm afraid my mind is a bit slow this evening."

He reached into his coat and pulled a small vial from inside. He showed her the level of the liquid, took a small sip to show it wasn't poison, and then offered it to her.

"It's something a little bit magical I keep on me for special occasions. Clears up headaches, nausea, minor pains. And oh, it will also completely magically heal stab wounds received during night time prowling."

There was a lot to take in at this occasion. First were the dancers, second were his marks. Well, maybe first were the food tables and some whisky. And perhaps he could bum a cigar off of another. He needed a smoke. Either way, he made his way casually across the room, paying no particular interest to one general area, but looking everywhere all the same. He had two marks to investigate. One, being some merchant by the name of Figleo Bakk; and another; Lord Beirne himself. He was intrigued by the sudden bounty on a noble, and wouldn't have thought much on it until he heard of this ball... and that two potential marks would be there. But it seemed Figleo Bakk was no where to be see, but his eyes caught a hold easily of Lord Beirne. So after procuring himself a goblet of wine, he made his way over to the man and began to strum up a bit of a chat.
Or.. at least he was going to, for Figleo Bakk decided to appear, and his hawk like eyes struck out against his mark. It seemed he was shifty eyed and nervous. That normally meant something bad..
Shit.
Looks like he'd have to deal with that mark first. So silently he slipped away, addressing Mr. Bakk with smooth conversation.. and the two suddenly disappeared.

Einin caught herself and drew a shaky breath. She was not about to hyperventilate and swoon like some frail ninny, and her dress was not laced nearly so tight as to be an excuse. "My...my apologies, Master Handelaar. My mind, it was...elsewhere." Another tight smile. "You reminded me of someone."

Please, please let the ground just swallow her. At the very least, it would be nice to be able to slink off somewhere and hide forever, because as her mind worked through this information and all its implications, it arrived to some very embarrassing realizations.

Oh gods, he'd kissed her.

And defeated her.

And she'd known him for years. Maybe only in passing, but it still left her feeling naked and wanting her mask. And why hadn't she picked a high-necked dress? Gods, she couldn't blush now, stop it!

Still reeling on the inside and struggling to maintain placid calm on the outside, she took the offered vial cautiously, and bowed her head. "Thank you," she said. "Though that's a very strange thing to mention! But that's good to know in case--gods forbid!--that ever were to happen."

She drained it in one gulp.

"Never know when a ruffian might turn up and ruin your day!" Smile, smile!

Ryk took the empty vile from Einin and placed it on the tray of a passing servant. The current music tempo was perfect for a medium paced dance, but not many people were dancing.

"I think we should dance little bird," and with that he swept her off to be danced with. The potion should have worked it's magic by now, healing the wound in her arm entirely. So there would be no wincing in pain. Living the life he had, his fleet feet lent well to dancing. He was not surprised that she kept up so well, even after the randomness of being suddenly thrust into dancing. He leaned in to her, just a bit more than socially acceptable, and put his hand dangerously low, but not quite risqué. With smooth smile on his face for everyone to see, he engaged Einin in what would appear to others to be idle chatter.

"You now are the sole possessor of very very valuable information. I know your secret and thought it only fair that I let you know I do. Even at great risk to myself. You have nothing to fear from Ryk Handelaar, wealthy merchant. I have spent many years building this life for myself, and I will not risk it on this," he looked straight into her eyes then, "Canis Rufus and Owl however are an entirely different story. I'm not sure where that journey will take us yet, but I plan on keeping it completely separate from this relationship. What happens when I don that persona is not part of this face, this life. I desire to keep them apart. I'm sure you can appreciate that," he said with a meaningful look, "If you keep my secret I will protect yours with my life. Just as Rufus secretly protected Owl these last two nights." As the music changed he led her off the dance floor, and graced her with a small kiss near her temple. That would start a few rumors.

"Would you care for some refreshment?"

Pulled onto the dance floor, Einin was quick to adjust to the rhythm and fell into pace easily, quick on her feet and not prone to much clumsiness. Besides, she'd danced this dance many times before at many events and she moved without thinking. Or at least, she wasn't thinking so much about the dance as she was about the placement of his hand and body and the ridiculousness of this entire situation. She hardly even noticed the tingle in her arm, or the fact that it no longer ached.

This whole thing would have been hilarious if she didn't feel so screwed.

Yet through it all, she kept her mother's advice. Just keep smiling! And hopefully she didn't look mad, though as he spoke, some of the tension faded, and she blinked up at him. She hadn't expected...any of that, and found herself silently appreciative. For a moment there, her two worlds had overlapped uncomfortably--and now, once again, they were separate as they should be. Her forced smile turned genuine, and her heart no longer felt ready to burst from stress. Instead, she livened up in her step.

"Then we're both in agreement," she said, "and I'm glad you feel that way. Because I still think wolf would go well in my room, and I was hoping this wouldn't make that awkward, you know? What with Rufus being Owl's arch nemesis."

She grinned. "Consider your secret safe. And consider it the only thing that is."

His parting words, however, made her balk. What? He'd protected her? But before she could remark, he lead her off the floor.

And once again, she was reduced to blushing from a kiss. It was far more chaste, but far more public, and a jolt of paranoia went through her. She turned to look for her mother, and found Anya staring back and them from where she was standing near Lady Feldyr. Einin ducked her head.

Mother of Kia.

"Refreshments! Why yes, Master Handelaar, I would love that. What a wonderful idea!" Einin said, linking her arm in Master Handelaar's and practically dragging him further into the crowd. "I am absolutely parched. Ah, here we go."

As a servant passed by with a tray, she took a wine glass for herself and took a quick sip. "People are watching, you know," she hissed, voice low and face still red.

Ryk smirked at Einin's red face as he smoothly took a glass from the servants tray. She sure was red, such deep blushes. It amused him deeply, but he showed very little.

"That is precisely the reason that I did it. I do have a reputation to maintain you know," he gave her a lascivious look complete with wagging eyebrows and a wink, "Soon people will be saying I made a real woman out of you." He gave her another wink and laughed a little, knowing how deeply that would make her blush, "but worry not, it will not hurt your chances with the lecherous young Lord Feldyr. He does enjoy the brothels a bit more than is respectable," and with that he gave a much more hearty laugh.

"Just because I keep that other life separate from my social activities, doesn't mean that I don't gain valuable knowledge to use in business. There is hardly a secret worth knowing that I don't know," he gesture to the Lord and Lady Tanis, "They have a young daughter but can't seem to get pregnant and secure a male heir, perhaps that's because Lord Tanis got two of his serving girls pregnant," next he gestured to Lord Bellren, "everyone believes the Lord Bellren is drinking himself into squalor. Really, he's investing in some interesting endeavors in Thanatos and has a huge estate there. The man is devious and shrewd," he looked around a moment but couldn't seem to find who he was looking for, "Have you seen Figleo Bakk? Anyway, the fool made deals with some rivals to the Wolves, they would give him info and he would support them as they tried to muscle in on Arca. Well I squashed his efforts easily, and passed credit to your father actually, and now I hear there is a price on Lord Bakk's head. I haven't decided if he's worth saving yet. When a wealthy man owes the Wolves his life, it can sometimes make me richer, but is usually not worth the effort."

"Is there anyone who you'd like to know a bit more about?"

It was an odd set of circumstances to say the least. In the privacy of the side parlor room, Jarrett could conduct his business in private. And the dead had been done with little fuss.. and little blood. The knife was easily hidden, but as he moved to leave, some blind-eyed, big-boobed, big haired woman came parading herself into the room. Blinking, Jarrett had to take a few steps back, and despite his attempts at a protest to get the woman to leave the corpse alone (since Figleo Bakk was hardly hung over, despite the woman assuming so), she went right on over to him and demanded he come with her to the dance floor, and as the woman tried to drag Figleo Bakk away, Jarrett awkwardly followed, snatching the corpse up before his dead body was to be dragged away across the floor and pulled him into his embrace.

"I'm sorry you have him mistaken, he asked me for the next dance," and before the woman could say anything, Jarrett swept the dead corpse away, moving with grace across the dance floor, which was not as easy as it seemed. All the strain lay on his back as he had to keep himself righted, and in the correct position to dance, all the while balancing a very heavy Figleo Bakk with his arms in the attempts of a dance. Thankfully, the man had a lot of fat on his neck to keep it (mostly) erect as they made their way across the dance floor, and as Jarrett looked around, he was scoping out a means for an escape. He had to ditch the corpse before someone saw him, and began to waltz his way over towards the study on the other side of the room.

Einin nearly choked on her wine, but forced it down, cleared her throat, and gave Master Handelaar a flat look. "Oh, so what am I now? A fake woman?" she asked with her head tilted curiously. Her blush said she knew exactly what he meant, but she was trying not to rise to the bait by feigning naivete.

His mention of the young Feldyr's activities, however, took her off guard. It was true that she didn't actually know much about him, and wasn't interested in knowing more, but she'd assumed from meeting him before that he was a nice, proper lad. At least, that was the impression he'd given her--not a terrible person, but not particularly interesting, either. But that? And did that mean...gods. No wonder he was trailing that woman like a puppy!

If she'd been disinterested before, that went double for now. "You assume I care about my chances."

It didn't stop there, either, and as Master Handelaar went on, Einin shifted with discomfort. This was very private stuff. Stuff she didn't feel comfortable being privy to. It was rather like walking into a room and catching someone with their pants down and seeing a side of them you'd hoped not to see and were happier prior to seeing it.

It certainly made her look at these people differently now.

It was especially uncomfortable hearing about her father, even if it wasn't much. He didn't talk much with her about business matters, and she didn't really inquire, but it was strange hearing how much this man knew about everyone--which meant he probably knew a great deal about them.

She took another sip of wine and kept her back to her parents, not wanting to see their faces, and continued to walk with Ryk. Best to keep moving. "So you peddle gossip, too, then," she remarked, and gazed thoughtfully into her glass. "Hmm. I can think of a few people. Oh! I know. Master Handelaar, you seem  to know an awful lot about these 'Wolves', and I just find it so fascinating! It's so like the stories I've read. What do you know of their lead--"

She cut off with short, sharp gasp, body going rigid.

Because that was when she glanced over her shoulder to keep an eye on her parents and caught sight of none other than Jarrett, sweeping across the floor with an inebriated Figleo Bakk.

Ryk was not facing the dance floor, but at Einin's reaction to something she was seeing, he turned to look. Well it was Jarrett that he had seen earlier. And he was dancing with a limp Figleo Bakk. At first glance, the man appeared to be heavily inebriated. A discerning eye, however, would notice that his feet were being dragged across the floor, he was not dancing at all. This meant he was either unconscious or dead. Since he was in the embrace of an assassin, he was most likely, no longer among the living.

"Well it seems I'm too late to save Figelo Bakk and have him eternally in my debt. Our assassin friend has already made his acquaintance. Why he's dancing around making the corpse look like a drunkard, I have no idea," Ryk let out a short scoffing laugh, "I do not wish for Jarrett to know the nature of my identity, in case he ever accepts a bounty on the Red Wolf. It wouldn't work well for me. But I'm thinking he could use some help with the late Lord Bakk. If you'll pardon me."

Ryk slipped away and snaked quickly through the crowd looking for a particular servant. When he found the man he came up behind the man and grabbed him by the back of the neck.

He modulated his voice as he spoke quietly to the servant, "Do not turn around, or I will gut you shadow wolf. The man on the dance floor with Lord Bakk is an assassin. The Red Wolf has declared that his contracts are legitimate as long as the Sirens do not object. He's somehow gotten himself into a jam and is dancing with a corpse. Help him carry Lord Bakk away. Claim he is too drunk and needs to rest." Ryk pressed one of his Red Wolf tokens into the mans hand and then melted back into the crowded room. He would probably arrive back to where he had left Einin as the servant, the Shadow Wolf, reached the edge of the dance floor.

It was an effort not to pick at her nails as she watched Master Handelaar stride off, and even more of an effort to remain looking placid. When Ryk returned, she wheeled around on him.

"What is he doing here?!" she said, voice low. "Why is he killing people!? I--are you two doing this on purpose? Do you secretly know each other or something? This is absurd!" Oh gods, oh gods. She found herself torn. She needed to speak up, because there was an assassin here! Killing people! But she couldn't. Jarrett knew who she was. Handelaar knew who he was. They all, essentially, had each other in a choke hold, and if one squealed, it would all come tumbling down.

But she couldn't just stand by while people were in danger--even unpleasant people! Her family was here!

"I...excuse me for a moment." With a cheerful smile Handelaar's way and a polite curtsey, she turned and headed out onto the dance floor, unaware of the Shadow Wolf.

This waltz was a tricky one, so if anyone knew how it worked, they wouldn't be able to guess Jarrett and Figleo's steps as the pair of men (well, man and corpse) were making their way across the floor. He couldn't very well dance as if he had a lady in hand, or an alive person for that matter, so his steps and twirls and sways and strides were taken into account for the stiff ways Figleo's body was moving as they graced about the dance floor. ANd as Jarrett tried to get his way towards the other side of the room to dispose of Mr. Bakk's body, he hadn't realized he was evading the shadow wolf and heading directly towards an old familiar friend without her mask.

Einin hardly had to go far, for Jarrett was coasting toward her. Wine glass still in hand, she reached out with other hand when he was close enough and smacked him hard on the arm to get his attention, since whatever Master Handelaar had tried didn't work. Or so she assumed.

"What're you doing?" she said, voice a low hiss. "You need to leave. Now. Yesterday. You need to be so gone you were never here."

Jarrett had been dancing, more preoccupied with his flight than some approaching girl, so when she hit him, hissed, he whirled right around so she could get a good look at his face as he halted, momentarily his waltz.  Tilting his head one side, it took him a moment to register, then he slowly smiled.

"The midnight Owl.." he said, a smile slowly curling across his lips, though as the crowds began to move in closer to them, and Figleo's weight began to take its toll, he grunted and reshuffled the weight, and twirled away from her as he returned back to the dance floor.

"I can't talk now. Can't you see I'm dancing?"
Though as he was moving one direction, he noticed someone else trying to approach from the other. And not realizing it was a shadow wolf actually going to help him, he turned back around and shifted with Figleo, dancing back to Owl.... All the while someone came forward to cut in for the swapping partners version of the dance.. a  certain blind as a bat woman with big boobs, and she wasted no time taking Figleo in hand and was dancing off with him on the floor.  Jarrett found himself staring, standing there awkwardly as he was without another dancing partner. And his dead mark.

"Shit."

Turning to Owl, he took her by the hand and said, "Here, dance with me. I need to get my dead corpse back." And he waltzed with her, guiding her with quickness out onto the floor, trying to keep his eyes upon Figleo, all the while fluttering dresses and dancing partners kept moving in closer, all the while the music was moving towards another part of a song where the partner's needed to swap.

"Shit." he grit his teeth, kept trying to appear nonchalant, but that damn woman with Figleo moved fast. Did she even know this dance at all?

Turning to Owl, he asked simply, "Hey, do you mind catching Figleo Bakk while I get that other broad? Then we can exchange partners back by the bar and the next decrescendo." And he gestured towards the table full of punch and other things.
"Oh, looks like they're coming our way," and he kept a careful eye upon the pair, dancing gracefully about, Owl in hand, eyes on the prize.. er.. corpse; and at just the right moment, the pair moved swift, and even if Owl had protested, her words fell on deaf ears....
and before anyone could stop it, the exchange had been made: Jarrett with a very ill-tempered big-busted woman, who began prattling off how fuming mad she was Figleo was still ignoring her; while poor Lady Beirne got stuck.. dancing with a corpse.

The servant who spent many nights prowling the streets as a Shadow Wolf didn't know who it possibly could have been that just gave him those orders, but that red token spoke volumes. He had until sunrise to mark it with his own glyph and return it to the den, or be worried that a Blood Wolf would come for him. So true to the nature of a skilled spy, he got to work at being a good servant to the house of his Lord and Master. Drunk guests needed to be escorted out courteously, as not to embarrass them or the host.

As he headed straight for Jarrett however, the assassin danced away, and with the nature of this song, it was quite hazardous to maneuver across the dance floor. He was bumped and jostled quite a bit, as he tried to make his way there, and was having little success. Then he lost sight of the corpse. Somehow the assassin had traded it for a lovely creature with pink hair. He'd have to find out who she was and perhaps pay her a visit when she was asleep later. Such horribly delicious thoughts and from only one look. She'd make for a few nights of fun surely. Maybe a week. But he could think about his extra curricular activities later, he just spotted the corpse of Figaro in the arms of...

---

"Lady Zaftig, gorgeous as always. May I take you from this stranger for the remainder of the dance?"

Just as Jarrett took the buxom Lady Zaftig, and the corpse went into the arms of the beautiful young Einin, Ryk Handelaar, wealthy merchant, was there to cut in and dance with the gold digger. She'd been after Bakk's fortune for nearly three years. Her two previous elderly husbands had left her tidy sums when they died, and a good amount of political power to go along with the loot. A marriage to Lord Figelo Bakk would have made her a contender with Ryk himself, and the lovely Dylanna as well. Ryk was not about to have another player in his arena, and had promptly let young Lord Bakk discover the nefarious plot that Zaftig was trying steal his inheritance. The sniveling twit, did the rest well, keeping his father from spending time with Lady Zaftig, by lying of course. What lies didn't matter, as long as his inheritance was safe. Now that Lord Bakk was dead, it seemed Ryk would need to meet with the new head of the house to secure contracts his father wouldn't give up. Ryk Handelaar, wealthy merchant, might end up with a Lordship sooner than he expected. Lord Handelaar, he liked the sound of that.

"You know Lady Zaftig, I have always admired how well you wear that lovely brooch," Ryk only gave the saphires and emeralds a cursory glance as he looked at Lady Zaftig's breasts, "but I personally prefer smaller adornments." He stole a glance at the slim figure of Einin as she danced with the dead corpse. He could see his, err... the Shadow Wolf approaching, he'd make it to her in just a moment.

"I really don't understand why you waste your time with an old drunkard like Lord Bakk. There are younger, stronger, more powerful men you could shower with your affections. Take me for example. I am unwed, and I hear there are rumors that I am an amazing lover. I assure you that they are under exaggerations. When it comes to making love, I am a god." He leaned in close to whisper the dirty deeds he could perform for her, and even the promiscuous fortune hunting Lady Zaftig couldn't help but blush.

It was the most awkward thing, dancing with Jarrett. Or at least, that was what Einin thought--until he announced his intentions.

It took a second for it to sink in. He didn't actually--oh hells no!

"What? Wait! No!" But it was too late--before she knew it, she had her hands full of corpse, and it took every ounce of willpower not to shriek and drop the body--and every bit of strength to hold the larger, and very dead, body upright without toppling over herself. For a moment she stood there, horrified--and then she realized she needed to be moving and, with a grunt through gritted teeth, she heaved the body into motion.

It was lucky the man wasn't very tall, but was mostly just wide. Still, their dance was not a very graceful one, and she nearly fell backwards a couple times as his weight leaned into her. And through it all, all she could think of was his cold, stiff hands and--nope! NOPE! Not thinking about it! Not going there! She made a point of staring at his chest and avoided his slack and lifeless face.

You can do this! You can do this. It's just a corpse! Haha! Just...you know, dancing with a murdered man! As one does! Totally typical ballroom shenani--oh Kia NO! On an unintentionally sharp turn, for she was having difficulty with the man's weight, Figleo's head rolled lifelessly to the side and his jaw dropped open. Out flopped his tongue and a little drool with it, and Einin sucked in a breath and felt her stomach turn, a scream rising in her throat. Ohgodsohgodsohgods! She couldn't do this! What was she supposed to do? Poke his tongue back in?! He was going to drool on her!

That was when she spotted Ryk, cutting in to take the buxom woman from Jarrett, and Einin picked up her pace and, with a final turn, passed the corpse off quickly to Jarrett a little more roughly than necessary. "Do that again and I'll gut you," she growled as she got in close enough to hand Bakk off, before getting swept up again by another nobleman--who she felt kind of bad for, because she was now getting corpse all over him and oh gods she would never feel clean again.

The man tried to make polite conversation with her, but Einin hardly heard him as she tried to follow both Jarrett and Ryk without being too obvious--and that was when she caught sight of the young Lord Feldyr, dancing with the lady Ryk had pointed out earlier.

Shiiiit.

Her dancing partner made a surprised sound when she abruptly took the lead and steered them away from the couple, keeping her head turned away.

With Figleo Bakk now in his possession, Jarrett danced with him clean off the dance floor, clean past the table with punch and wine, and right into the Far-Caster's study; the one place he hoped would have some sort of window so he could dump the corpse out of, but as luck would have it, it seemed Einin's parents were heading in that direction, making small talk with another couple their age, not realizing there was  man entertaining a corpse inside...
So while Jarrett was dragging the stout corpse over to the back window, in were stepping the Beirne's.

"I can't believe it myself," he heard Owl's mother begin. "To think Lord Feldyr is dancing with some other girl, and one whom none of us even know by name!"

"A scandal, indeed," Lord Beirne began. "To think we had such high hopes of an engagement, or at least a courtship to begin with, but it seems we might not even be lucky for that this evening."

"And dear sweet Einen will only get older. Most girls have already been betrothed, and dare I mention married at her age," the other woman said.

And this was all going on while Jarrett was trying to discretely stuff Figleo out the damn window, but it seemed the damn thing was locked. So with a grunt, he had to abandon that mission for now and think of another clever means to get rid fo the body. Perhaps he could just leave him here...

"Hey.. is someone back there?"

Jarrett froze.
Shit.

"Yes, I'm entertaining Figleo Bakk," came his voice from the side of the room cast in shadow beneath an unlit chandelier. "It seems he's had too much to drink and wanted to sit here in the dark. But don't go lighting any more candles, his eyes are sensitive and I think he's finally passed out from drink."

The Beirne's exchanged glances, and the lady from the couple beside them raised a gloved hand to her cheek.
"Oh dear."

"He will be fine, I assure you. This thing happens all the time." And he gave them a charming grin, flashing white teeth from the dark.

"Yes, and uh..who might you be anyway? I don't think we've met before?" Lord Beirne pressed as his eyes strained to try to figure out who the mysterious man was in the wine colored suit.

"Yes, I would remember such a face." his wife chimed in. "Are you friends of Figleo's?"

"No, I'm a friend of the Beirne's," he began, oh shit- wait.. they were the Beirne's. "I mean to say, I came here to make their acquaintance." A quick recovery, but it still had the man and his wife looking curiously to one another. "I heard..something about an engagement?"

"Oh," and Lady Beirne's eyes lit up. "Are you a suitor then?"

Jarrett flattened his lips. It was the only story he could go off of for now, and at least he 'assumed' the Beirne woman looked at him as if a 'yes' would be flattering, so stepping out from the dark side of the room and into the light, he confirmed with a smile, "Yes, though I'm already engaged."

Lady Beirne's mouth fell open.
"Oh.. oh.." And she looked to her husband most curiously. "Already engaged to whom?" Her eyes went back to Jarrett.

And as if on cue, some pink haired girl stepped into the room. Oh, it was the night owl. So with a smirk, he gestured right on over to her.
"That one."

ANd both the Beirne's looked appalled, Lord Beirne even dropping his glass, which landed with a clunk and partial shatter to the floor.
And seeing their reaction (and not entirely realizing the connection just yet..) he added, "It was a secret engagement." and he turned to Owl, not once losing his cool. "Right?"

Jarrett, along with his corpse partner, danced away into a room at the far end of the ballroom and Einin let out a sigh of relief. Out of sight, out of mind. Hopefully he'd leave since he'd gotten what he wanted, she guessed, and that would be that. Either way, it was no longer her problem.

That was when she saw her parents breeze into the room after Jarrett.

Oh, for the love of--!

The dance wasn't over yet, but she turned to her partner--that poor nobleman--and gave him a frantic look.

"Er, pardon me, m'lord, but I really need to go powder my nose right now!" she said, and tugged free from the startled man. She sketched a quick curtsey. "Sorry!" And then, picking up her skirts, she all but ran off the dance floor (a feat in itself, running in heavy skirts and stupid shoes), throwing subtlety to the wind in favor of stopping a potential catastrophe. The very last thing she needed was for the two worlds to actually meet--and Jarrett with a body he was doing who knew what with!

Einin burst into the room, mouth open as she prepared to tell them some lord or other requested their presence, and that was when Jarrett pointed at her and she saw it was too late.

She froze in place, and her mouth slammed shut with a click of teeth. Her face went white.

"A what?"

He didn't.

But her parents were staring at her in abject horror, her father's hand still forming the shape of the glass he no longer held. Einin slowly looked at Jarrett and forced a smile through clenched teeth.

Shit.

If she called him a liar, there would be more questions--and he could easily retaliate and expose her for exposing him.

"It was. A secret, that is," she said tightly. "Not much of one anymore, now, is it? Ahaha. Ha." The look she gave Jarrett was half have you lost your mind? and half I'm going to smother you with that corpse.

Her mother, Anya, finally let out a breath. "But the...but the Feldyrs! What do we tell them now? Why didn't you tell us!"

"And why I haven't I heard of this man before?" her father cut in, glaring at Jarrett suspiciously. "What house did you say you were from again?"

"Father, don't be rude!" Einin said, suddenly brightening when she realized a golden opportunity. The Feldyrs! Hah! Maybe this...wasn't so horrible after all! She could use this to shake the whole Feldyr plan and once that was taken care of, call off the whole fake engagement. Moving from shock and horror to damage control, Einin walked over to stand beside Jarrett and put on a bright smile. "He's Adelan, so you'll have to forgive his strange mannerisms. But his house is a very old, very noble one, and--"

"Adelan?!" Anya gasped, and her father cut in with, "Absolutely not! He's--"

"The son of an ambassador!" Einin continued. "Such a union will reflect very well on our family, and our nation! It would be awful to insult his house so." Okay, maybe she needed to stop, but once the story got rolling, it got growing, as well.

And dammit, if he was going to make things difficult, she wasn't going to make it easy for him, either.

When Einin began to play along, Jarrett's easy grin seemed to grow, splitting open his mouth even to expose his teeth.
"Well, my whole family has come from a long line of varying ambassadors, notably Adelan and Essyrni blood." And as they were talking, a servant happened to notice the activity within the room, and offered more drink.

"Champagne?" the servant said,  and Jarrett's grin reached his ears as he took a pair of them, one for him, and then one that he offered over to Lord Beirne. It seemed most fitting a drink for such an occasion and he thanked the servant and then turned his deep green eyes to Einin's father.

"For you. I think you spilled your drink." and his grin was close mouthed now as he added, "Seems like you could use another."

A pair of gossiping noble ladies were walking along, chatting as they went. They stopped when they came upon a servant with a tray of drinks. Each lady grabbed one as the servant was walking away from the Far-Caster's study. Little did they know that there were people standing inside the room, including the Beirne's, and were not using any discretion in their volume as they spoke.

"Master Handelaar is only on his second dance for the evening?"

"Yes only his second. And with that fortune chaser Lady Zaftig no less. How many husbands has she had now?"

"I've lost count. But does it matter? She's had so many affairs it seems marriage meens little, other than she gets money and power."

"Did you see who he danced with first?"

"No, I didn't. Who was it?"

"That Beirne girl."

"Really?"

"Oh yes. She's a lovely girl, but I hear she's quite a handful. Refuses suitors, lacks the proper skills of a lady. Her parents can't control her at all."

"Poor thing will be past marrying age soon, then her poor parents will be stuck with her."

"Oh how dreadful for them. And I doubt that they'll find her suitable husband if she's so hard to handle. Especially since Master Handelaar was seen to have kissed her this evening.

"Really?! What scandal! Everyone knows he has conquered many of the women in court. Seems the young Lady Einin Beirne isn't the properly chaste young woman a husband would want."

"But what does that matter? Everyone knows her parents were trying to marry her off to the Feldyr's. I hear that the young Lord Feldyr has been visiting the ladies of the night with some frequency."

"No!?"

"Yes indeed"

"How dreadful."

"So I'm sure he'd be happy to have an experienced wife if the rumor is true."

Their voices trailed off as the ladies finally wandered away.

Just when things couldn't possibly get any worse, they did.

Vaguely, Einin though that she'd seen a play once with a similarly ridiculous scenario in it like this. Those ladies could have been actors, walking to their marks right on cue and delivering their damning lines.

Silence fell, heavy and awkward. Lord Beirne looked about ready to drop his second glass, face stern and red, and Anya's eyes were very wide. Both fixed Einin and Jarrett with a look, one Einin was very familiar with.

"Is that true?" Lady Beirne finally said, a quiver in her voice. "You and...and Master Handelaar?" Before Einin could explain, she continued on, growing frantic. "I saw you dancing with him, but I never thought--I never imagined--how long have you...? And what of this man here?!" she said, jabbing a finger in Jarrett's direction. "Oh, what is wrong with you? Announcing an engagement to one strange man while kissing on another--maybe more--while standing up the man you were supposed to meet! Oh, Kia! And here I thought you had no interest when you were off sneaking around on your own at all those parties, and now...now...my little girl's growing up to be a harlot!"

"Mother!"

Lord Beirne covered Lady Beirne's hand with his own to calm her as she broke into tears while Einin stared on in exasperation. This was getting ridiculous.

"Where did I go wrong?" Lady Beirne was saying, dabbing at her eyes with a kerchief Lord Beirne produced. "How could you...?"

"Mother!" Einin cut in again with a huff. "For gods' sakes, nothing happened. It was a dance. Just a dance. And a kiss on the temple. Polite and gentlemanly and--dear gods, why are you yelling at me? Didn't you hear them? Feldyr's the whore! You wanna marry me off to that?"

"Language, Einin!"

"It's not a bad word, it's a literal profession!"

"Don't you start! And anyway, I saw how close you two were."

"You don't dance with people at arm's length!"

Lord Beirne took a long swig of the champagne, downing it in one gulp, before he loudly cleared his throat. "Will the both of you just stop for a moment? You will not embarrass me here." And then, with a tired sigh, he added, "No more than what's already been done."

Turning to look at Jarrett, he eyed him up and down before saying plainly, "You will not be marrying my daughter."

Well, this conversation was seriously going south. He needed to get the damn corpse out of the room, and these pompous buffoons were more concerned about social etiquette and their daughters scandalous rendez-vous with men, than anything else. Though, he had to wonder if they truly didn't know what their daughter did at night.

So once the conversation had somehow made it's way back to him, Jarrett only had one thought in mind.
Fire.

He had taken a moment to procure a piece of glass shard that had come from Lord Beirne's fallen wine glass from earlier, and tucked it away into his hand, letting it slice open a wound. Here, he could feel the familiar glow of magic as he smeared the blood all over the glass shard, then dropped it upon the floor.
It was at this exact moment Lord Beirne denied him his daughter's hand in marriage.

"Oh, I didn't come here to ask for permission," Jarrett stated simply, then whispered a few things (which probably seemed as if he were muttering under his breath, almost mocking the man, Lord Beirne) but in truth, he was reciting the incantation to release the magic of the blood flame as discretely as he could.

And the glass took to flame, but it seemed no one was noticing it, but that's because the damn thing was not catching flames onto anything (well, except for itself). Jarrett chanced a glance down. The glass was still burning off his blood that was smeared on it, but it was too far away from the throw rug's tassels to catch it on fire.
Jarrett furrowed his brow and kicked the damn thing, and it clattered, but just a few inches too short of the rug.
Sighing, his green eyes looked up into the angered face of Lord Beirne.

"I beg your pardon?" Lord Beirne began, looking completely flabbergasted and pissed.

"Yeah, I er.." and here, Jarrett smoothed back his black hair from his face, taking a few steps backwards and using an arm, which he now hooked around Owl's shoulder, to make it appear as if he was trying to stand protectively near his 'fiance', when in truth, he just used it as a clever and deceptive means to step even closer to the damn flaming piece of glass (which thankfully,no one had even noticed yet) as he gave it a quick kick. Finally, it landed upon the dry tassels of the rug and began to smoke. But even then, no one noticed...
yet.

Giving a smile that revealed his teeth, Jarrett simply shrugged.
"Yes, we do thing differently from where I'm from. You see, the man simply asks the woman if she wants to be his wife, and well, she said 'yes'." The blood mage and assassin wrapped his arms a bit more closely around Einin's shoulder and drew her in, their cheeks nearly pressing together. "You see, my family believes if it's love, then it's meant to be." ANd he turned towards Owl and gave her the worst possible, fake grin ever to make his case. It seemed, however, Lord Beirne wasn't buying it as he began to growl. But then someone finally noticed the smoke, as Lady Beirne gave a gasp.

"Do you smell smoke?" and then her eyes went wide as suddenly, the coat tails of Jarrett's clothing took to flames. Jarrett's eyes went wide as he realized a foil to his plan!
He had been standing far too close to the growing flames..
Lady Beirne gasped and exclaimed with a point as her other hand clasped over her lips.
"FIRE!"

Damn fire, why couldn't it just stay on the rug?

"Yes.. a fire.." Jarrett said smoothly, but other wise seeming unperturbed that his coat was in flames, which were now crawling up the back side of it, biting at his ass.
"I suggest you all warn the other guests before you too, catch on flames," Jarrett spoke, almost mockingly through a forced grin, but then he paused, feeling the flames finally biting into his skin. "Well, excuse me a moment.. I must.." and before he finished his sentence, he wriggled off his wine-colored jacket as fast as humanly possible, then tossed it down onto the ground. But instead of stomping it out, he kicked the jacket closer to where Figleo Bakk was sleeping.

"Gods, there's a fire man! Let's get out of here!" Lord Beirne shouted as the severity of the situation began to take it's toll.  BY now, the whole forefront of the rug was crackling and roaring into a foot high line of flames, which were quickly moving across it and towards the curtains, which instantly took flame as well, and black smoke began to gather at the tops of the ceiling.

The site of fire made Lady Beirne faint, and Jarrett found himself inadvertently catching the woman in his arms. THe assassin blinked, fighting the urge to shake his head at the humility of this situation, for it really was quite silly if one were to consider what was actually all going on here.

"Here, why don't you take your wife," Jarrett said, none too delicately shoving her into Lord Beirne's arms, then to Owl he said, "And you help him as well," and he put an extra emphasis on a grip upon her shoulder that indicated he wanted her the hell out of there.

"And I will see to it that Figleo Bakk gets out." And he gave Owl a look, just a subtle one, that seemed almost threatening, or demanding, that she better get her ass out of there too (lest she ACTUALLY see him get angry), before he moved to get Figleo but paused to look back at the family. Were they all nuts!? Why weren't they leaving? They all seemed to be standing there like lumps of coal (which wouldn't be good if they were ACTUALLY lumps of coal...)

So he barked out the words, "GO!" THen pressed it even more with an added, "NOW!" and it was only then Lord Beirne rushed out with Lady Beirne in arms.
And out onto the dance floor he shouted, "Fire! There's a fire in the study!" and instantly the dancing and music stopped.


At the sounds of the music halting, Jarrett knew he didn't have much time. He had to get rid of the damn corpse...

Stepping through the flames, Jarrett was sweating something fierce and wiped at his brow. This was beyond frustrating, and to top it off, at one point he had to pat down a fire that had latched onto his leg (which he swore through his teeth at since that fire was damn hot. Cursed hell flame magics). By the time he had gotten to Figelo's side, he was rolling up his ivory colored sleeves and loosening his black cravate around his neck while shaking his head at the dead corpse.
"You'd better be worth the gold that was on your head, Figleo," he muttered, and moved forward, scooping up the corpse.

Einin rushed out of the study with her parents, coughing as smoke billowed out of the room and stung her eyes. Gods, what a disaster! She should have known this would all go south! Part of her suspected Jarrett's cigars as the culprit, and another part of her felt guilty, like she had somehow drawn the man here. Now another man was dead and the place was on fire and everything was chaos. Guilt gnawed at her, but she knew she couldn't speak; she would have to find another way to handle it.

And the fire was spreading fast, with so much wood to latch onto. It wasn't long before flames were licking out of the room and up the walls, blackening the ceiling.

The dance floor erupted into madness as lords and ladies panicked at the sight and scattered, searching for their partners and family. In the confusion, Einin got separated from her parents and shoved aside as all pretenses of politeness and formality went flying out the window. She caught sight of the Feldyrs, shouting for servants to save the paintings while several guards rushed into the room and toward the study, magic glowing on their fingertips. They were water mages, but the fire was larger than them, and they were too few. They began to retreat.

Einin watched for just a moment out of morbid curiosity, both concerned for the mages and impressed by their bravery, before the burning smoke and ash became too much. Turning on her heel and hiking her stupid skirts, she started to rush out of the ballroom when a whimpering sound caught her attention.

There was a library right off the ballroom, near the study, and Einin had nearly passed it, but the sound made her double back and peer inside. Smoke was filling it and making it hard to see (not to mention making her eyes water), but she ducked down beneath it.

"Someone there?"

A pitiful sniffle and a cough answered, and Einin stepped inside, following the sound. There, wedged in a small space between a desk and a bookshelf, a little girl no older than five huddled, arms wrapped around knees drawn tight to her chest. She recognized her as Ava, the daughter of Lady Arkava, a family friend, and remembered her as shy and quiet. The noise and the stampede must have frightened her--or maybe she was like her, and had grown bored with the party before everything went crazy.

"Aw, c'mon. You'll be okay, little lady," Einin said as she approached her, and after a little hesitation Ava raised her pudgy arms and Einin scooped her up. The girl wrapped her arms around Einin's neck as she backtracked out of the library, staying low as she could, but the smoke had grown thicker, the good air thinner, and by then it was impossible to see.

Shit. She knew the exit was ahead somewhere, but she hadn't paid much attention coming inside and couldn't remember left or right. The little girl coughed and complained that her eyes hurt, and Einin tore a piece from her dress and pressed it to the girl's face.

"Breathe into that," she said, voice growing hoarse, and took a choking breath of air with her hand cupped over her mouth and nose. Then she rushed forward, calling for help as best as she could.

Well this was a disaster. Ryk was about to step into a side room with Lady Zaftig, where they could be alone, and nobody would see them undress, when he heard the shouts of fire. Fire at a ball was something he was prepared for. If this were his estate, the magic sensors would have kicked in and the fires would have been snuffed out by removing oxygen and adding water. He escorted Jezebel Zaftig to relative safety and then decided to find return to find Einin. He would not let the little bird be roasted like a turkey before she had a chance to grow into a truly fierce raptor.

Some drunken lout must have knocked over an oil lamp, or perhaps dropped a cigar. Who knew? The entire wing would probably be burned away before enough water mages could be called in to stop the burning. That was why re relied on his magic sensors and enchanted gems in his sconces. It was a bit expensive to be sure, but it was cheaper than these repairs would be. Good thing he had signed that contract with Feldyr today. If the man couldn't keep his end of the bargain, and was unable to buy his way out because of this, it would put a bit of strain on Ryk other dealings, but he would assume control of all Feldyr's accounts. That would put him greatly ahead of the Swinden contracts. He wouldn't threaten Dylanna's business, but he still unconsciously competed with the woman. Why was she never at the Balls? He longed to see her again, though he'd admit it to nobody. Perhaps he'd check to see if she'd married.

There she was. Far down at the end of the hall and heading in the wrong direction. It seemed Einin had a little girl in her arms, and they were being overtaken by the smoke. It was a good thing Ryk was also the Red Wolf and always prepared. He used the water decanter stored in his inside coat pocket to thoroughly wet a large kerchief from his vest, and tied it to his face. He slid a pair of magic spectacles onto his face that kept his eyes clear and sharpened his vision, making it easier to see through the smoke. Down the hall he ran, quickly turning the corner and sprinting to catch up to Einin. He grabbed at her elbow, halting her in her place, and pulled the kerchief from his face tying it to hers. He poured water into the cloth the little girl was using to breathe through as well.

"This way my pretties," he coughed a bit through the smoke, "you were headed in the wrong direction." The smoke was growing thick, and it was becoming very hard to breathe, but he could see, so he led the way toward the exit as best he could.

All the while chaos was spreading and nobles and merchants and well to do families were scattering out to the four winds to be rid of the manor that was soon taking flame, Jarrett still remained inside, grunting and struggling with a very over weight (and dead) Figleo Bakk.

"If you weren't already dead I'd put you on a diet," Jarrett mumbled, dragging the corpse through flames towards the window. Though as he threw the wooden shutters open, he was elated to see no one in the back gardens. Good. This would make his job easier.

Moving around, he began to work on stuffing Figleo out the window, and it was only when he was stuffing his elbow into the dead corpse's ass to try to stuff him to get out there (seriously, what had this man ate his whole life? Roasted pig and fine creams every hour of the day?!), he noticed, with wide eyes and a curse, people began to appear in the back yard, wringing their hands in worry as they looked up at the flames.

Well... shit.
And then double shit when Figleo began to actually pass through the door, his body slipping down the shingles.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

Jarrett managed to snatch onto the corpse's legs, just barely as one of his damn shoes came off. And as Jarrett sighed with relief, his brow glistening with sweat and the room he was in almost completely consumed with flames that were hotter than hell, the damn shoe went clattering down the shingles and fell towards the gardens below, landing right beside the feet of a certain Lord and Lady Beirne, and it seemed Lady Beirne had just awoken from her faint.

With a grunt, he tried to get a better hold of Figleo when he heard a gasp from below.

"Oh my Gods, Figleo Bakk is hanging off the roof!" Lady Beirne exclaimed.

Jarrett quirked a brow as he nearly lost his grip on the dead man. Tripe Shit. Since now, Lady Beirne's gasp had brought on a crowd.

"Oh no! It seems he and another gentleman are trapped up on the roof!"

"The poor souls!"

"The fire's will surely eat them alive!"

Jarrett snorted, more sweat racing down his face as his hands strained in order to keep Figleo from slipping down the shingles and flattening Lady Beirne down below. Why couldn't these people just go somewhere else to look? Wasn't the house on fire? Shouldn't they be running away? And then he had an idea. A silly idea, but his hand was still bleeding.

Yanking off Figleo Bakk's last remaining shoe, Jarrett whispered out another incantation for fire. The blood on the shoe took to flame, and down the side of the slanting roof top it slid, tumbling off the end and landing squarely in the grasses where it sat with a dancing,  half foot tall, lapping pair of flames towards the sky. The crowd gasped and moved away from it, but still, they all kept looking up at him.

Damn.

"Someone needs to help them! Isn't anyone brave enough to rescue those poor men?!" He heard Lady Beirne exclaim. Thankfully no one could see him roll his eyes as he grabbed onto Figleo's legs with more heft, and began to drag the damn corpse up towards the window.

He'd have to think of another plan....

Ryk appeared through the smoke and Einin jumped when he grabbed her arm, only because the visibility was bad enough that he'd startled her. The damp cloth made it a little easier to breathe, but that left Ryk unprotected, and the flames and smoke were eating up oxygen fast. She didn't waste her breath on any words, only followed along after him until, finally, they burst outside. Though the air out there was smoky, right then it seemed fresh and pure compared to the inside, and Einin coughed and sucked in choking breaths as her eyes watered and her throat stung.

But they were safe now, and Einin couldn't help but marvel that, for the second time this night, the man had actually helped her when he had no reason to. Well, maybe the second time, sure, she had a little girl with her, but helping her with the wound he'd given her was something else entirely, and something she didn't really understand, alter ego or not.

She blinked up at him as she lowered the cloth from her face and adjusted the girl in her arms, and for a brief moment he seemed rather heroic and dashing with the fire behind him and streaks of ash on his clothes, the handsome merchant she'd seen at Balls before and had been mildly curious about, because he was different than the others, and for a moment she remembered their dance--erk, and the kiss.

It was a shame he was her arch nemesis and a womanizer besides.

"Er, hey, thanks," she said, and wiped at her sweaty face with the back of her hand, smearing ash across her forehead. And then she heard the cries, and saw the crowd gathered not far away and craning their necks to gape up at the roof.

There Jarrett was, Figleo's corpse in hand, dragging him up toward a window. What was he doing?! With the fire eating the manor, with the pressure building up inside, it wouldn't be long before the roof collapsed if the water mages didn't get things under control soon.

"Oh, shit." Einin stared. And then, with a wry smile Ryk's way, she kicked off her shoes and passed the girl over to him. "Guess I better go save my damned 'fiance'," she said with a roll of her eyes before she darted off across the grass and passed the crowd. Lady Beirne saw her and cried out when she saw her smoke streaked and tousled appearance, only then realizing she'd been missing, but Einin ignored her as she went around the side of the building, where the fire wasn't so bad yet.

---

ooc: Didn't wanna do too much all in one post to give y'all a chance to have your characters react. xD But lemme know if I did too many actions and I'll edit! ;D

Ryk took Ava from Einin gingerly. The poor little girl had passed out from inhaling so much smoke, but luckily she was still breathing. He laid the young girl in the grass and took off his spectacles placing them back in his vest. Bringing out another potion, he poured a small amount into the little girls mouth. He had only brought three, so it was best he not use more than necessary. Moments later she was waking up, good as new, though a bit messy from the smoke, and being carried.

"Welcome back sleepy head," he said in a friendly tone. He may usually avoid children, but that didn't mean he wasn't observant enough to know how to interact with them. "You feeling okay Ava? Einin Beirne and I brought you outside." Little Ava nodded shyly. "Well that's good," Ryk continued, "I'm gonna show you something fun now."

Ryk reached into his vest for one of his favorite magic items. It was a tiny hand mirror, even too small for a fairy, and he held it between his index finger and thumb. He showed it to Ava slowly so she could get a good look at the pretty little thing. Then with a tap on the back of his hand, the magic of the item swept over him, and in an instant he was clean, and well primped. Knowing how much little girls could complain about getting dirty he gave a little tap to Ava as well. She now looked as fresh as when her maid had finished preparing her for the ball. The little one obviously liked the magic, as her face was now split with the largest of grins.

Standing as he replaced the mirror in his pocket, Ryk reached out to offer Ava his hand, and looked toward the roof. Why was Jarrett struggling with the corpse of Bakk? Assassin's needed proof of the kill, sure, but Ryk would have taken whatever token he needed for that by now. Leaving the body to burn would dispose of it well enough after that. Perhaps there were specific terms for the discovery of the corpse. Or perhaps Bakk was supposed to disappear.

"Now that we're all freshened up," Ryk said to Ava, "lets go see if your mother is in the crowd of people watching the stranger that Einin Beirne is rushing off to help."

There was one thing that could be said about Jarrett L'isson. He had a perfect record for getting his desired mark every time, even with any consequential details that were roped with it.
There was also one thing that could be said about his blood magic, and the fire's of hell he summoned were consequentially a lot hotter than a normal flame, and that was one thing he had failed to calculate when lighting the room on fire. He just wanted to spook the damn Beirne's to get them the hell away from him so he could get Figleo Bakk's corpse out of there in one piece. Damn markman wanting the corpse.. not everytime did the payer want such a thing, but they wanted to see the man was actually dead, rather than hear it from Jarrett's oh so trusting lips...
So now, he had to deal with an entire manor threatening to burn down around him.

So Jarrett was still swearing over it, sweat soaking his face and body as his dark-wine suit clung to his arms and back and front as he sighed. Damn Figleo Bakk. He was a hefty man, too, so dragging his dead ass across the shingles wasn't exactly an easy task, even for someone as fit as Jarrett. Cigars did do a number on one's ability to breath. And a cigar was exactly what he was craving as he continued back towards the window. It was only when he had reached the place did a massive flame of yellow howl out from the window and forced Jarrett to turn away, shielding his face, (and his dead mark) as he grit his teeth.

Gods.. this was not going to be easy. He either had to jump down the several story high rooftop he was now perched upon to the crowd gathering below...
OR
He had to brave the flames that were now blocking his re-entry through the window.
Sighing, Jarrett wondered if this could get any worse. But then he heard a creaking groan as the structure of the roof around him began to crack. And with a blink, he took a single step back, an action that would afford him no relief from what was to come-

For in that instant, the entire side of the roof collapsed, sending both Jarrett and Filgeo Bakk's corpse descending into the room below. And not only that, the study he had dropped into was so consumed in hungry flames that as Jarrett lay there, stunned from the fall, he heard another groan.

"Shit."

And the floor int he study gave way, and Jarrett plummeted two floors below, landing on his left arm with a CRACK, and Figleo Bakk landing ontop of him, winding him more than the fall. And he lay there now, groaning in pain and staring up at the flaming building overtop of him from wehre he was now deep within the bowels of the basement of the house.

"Ava? Ava!"

Lady Arkava was frantic as she searched the crowd for her little daughter. The girl had been given to her nurse to watch after as Lady Arkava mingled with friends and acquaintances and business partners, but in the confusion the child had slipped free of her nurse and run off, and the tearful nurse hadn't been able to find her before the smoke had driven her out. She'd inhaled enough to be near fainting by the time she emerged, and now she sat off to the side, sick and sobbing, as the young mother searched for any signs of her daughter and asked those around her for help.

She'd lost her husband not months earlier, she would not lose her child, too.

"Ava? Please, have you seen--?"

"Mommy!"

Through the crowd, Lady Arkava caught sight of Ryk Handelaar with her daughter in tow, looking fresh as she had before they'd left their home. With a cry of relief, she rushed forward and swept the little girl up into her arms, kissing her hair and checking her over for signs of injury.

"Thank you! Thank you so much!"

And she had been about to say more, but a collective gasp from the crowd drew her attention.

Einin Beirne had climbed up the side of the house and onto the roof. She'd tied her dress off around her leg so the material didn't tangle around her feet. Barefoot, she balanced precariously on the shingles. Ugh, she really hadn't thought this through. She didn't know how she was going to save Jarrett, or even if she should. He was an assassin. He'd murdered right before her. But just because he had killed didn't mean she could watch someone die; that wasn't who she was trying to be.

And yet, in the back of her mind, she knew her actions weren't all altruistic. Selfishly, she wanted to make a point to her parents. A very reckless, very crazy point.

The shingles were uncomfortably hot beneath her feet, though not to the point of pain, but that was what made her realize that, impractical as those shoes had been, she shouldn't have discarded them.

And as she slowly picked her way toward Jarrett--though he couldn't see her, for she was approaching from the opposite side and his back was to her as he dragged the body toward the window--she started to think that she really needed a plan here.

Then the roof cracked, and her heart jumped.

Too late, now.

She was committed.

The roof collapsed, and with a shriek, she went with it.

The fall would have been a lot more traumatic had she not landed on a chaise lounge, with a pile of rubble and shingles in her lap and around her. But before she could catch the breath that had been knocked out of her, count her lucky stars that she'd survived, or look to see where Jarrett had wound up, the floor gave another ominous creak.

Oh gods.

It cracked and she plummeted, clutching the arm of the chaise in a white knuckled grip the entire while. The legs of the chaise broke under the impact, which sent a shock clear through her body, as rubble showered down around her and dust billowed in the air. Despite that, the air was better down there. The smoke hadn't yet reached it.

Einin realized after a moment that her eyes were squeezed shut and cracked them open when she heard a pained groan.

And as the dust and smoke cleared she saw him, not ten feet away: Jarrett, wounded but very much alive.

Sprawled out on the chaise, Einin looked like she could have been resting at her leisure if not for the pile of rubble atop her and the wet cloth still covering her mouth and nose. Pushing some of the rubble off of her, she cleared her throat and wiggled her fingers at Jarrett in a weak wave, still stunned by what had happened.

"Fancy meeting you here."

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw movement. Blinking, his blurred vision began to sharpen and he turned to one side with a wince at Einen's oh so charming words. To see her own smile (well, one in her eyes, rather than her lips, of which were now concealed), he found his own lips twitching back in response, but again, winced when he tried to move, his nose wrinkling at the pain.

God damn, heavy-ass, fat-faced, pompous-bellied Figleo Bakk. His kill was still crushing him, and he didn't waste another moment to SHOVE the damn corpse off of him. Only to grunt through a groan as he lay there, still on his back but now free and clutching onto his broken arm. And it was only then he was able to finally start coughing out the dust and debris he had so sharply inhaled upon the fall. ANd when his throat was nice and cleared and he was able to get some sort of oxygen into his lungs, he weezed once more and turned his head back to Owl.

"I could say the same thing to you."
Then sighed and found himself coughing a few more times as he looked up at the burning building above them.
"I wonder how many more minutes we have until the house collapses?"
And no sooner did he say that did another portion of flaming roof collapse, plummeting their way. ANd before Jarret knew what he was doing, he kicked himself off of the ground and dove into a spin over top of Owl, his body pinning over top of hers as he used the force of his jump to shove both him and her (who were both now ontop of the broken chaise lounge) and flung them (chaise lounge included, which let out a terribly, shrill like SHRIEK) out of harms way just in time for the roof shingles and support beams to clatter to the ground in a puff of fiery and ashen mess.

As the smoke calmed, Jarrett slowly lifted himself up off of her and turned to where the pile of flames was still flickering in the center of the cool, stone basement floor. And the only thing he said, was another cough as he winced at the pain on his broken arm and held onto it as he sat back now on the edge of the chaise lounge. Nursing it, he had quite the unhappy scowl on his face, but upon looking down at the fancy chair, he smirked.

"Nice chaise."

Well then. That's surely not good.

Ryk Handelaar felt a smidgen of dread as the roof collapsed in and took the daredevils with it. There was quite a bit of rumbling and crashing as the floors were likely crumbling in afterward. Then another chunk of roof went. The water mages were evacuating the building themselves, and just spraying it down from the outside. It was more about containment now. Saving the outbuildings and the guest house were the new priority. There was no way anyone was going in now. So unless he went himself, Jarrett and Einin would have to find a way out on their own. Well he didn't really care if Jarrett got out, but he didn't want to lose his newly budding adversary. Ryk turned from the scene to address the Ava and her frantic mother.

"Good eve Lady Arkava. The young Lady Einin Beirne and I saved young Ava," he smiled broadly at the attractive widow, "I did you the liberty of cleaning her up. No need for her to suffer such a mess." He turned away then and signaled to a nearby servant to come over. As the man approached, he began to remove his coat. He handed it to the servant as he arrived.

"Please hold onto that while I take care of this mess. A silver is yours when I return." He then walked over to the water mages and directed them to all focus spraying through a window that was above a huge hole in the floor that went into the basement. Ryk couldn't see Einin, or any movement, but hoped that she was not seriously damaged.

"Flood this entire area," he said, pointing to the hole and the floor around it, "Those three have surely fallen down there, and we will want to keep the fire at bay if they are to survive." He then pointed at two guards that were standing nearby. "One of you fetch me a sturdy rope. At least six meters long. And the other of you should get these onlookers back from the building. If the manor doesn't collapse in, it could collapse out this way and crush people." The guards rushed to do as told, one running toward the gatehouse, and Ryk began to unbutton his vest. If he was going to climb down there, he'd prefer not to damage his new pink attire.

No sooner had Jarrett opened his mouth when the roof came collapsing inward. Before Einin could fling herself out of the way, though, Jarrett had thrown himself atop her and shoved the chaise out of the way. Not a second after, the flaming rubble hit the spot they'd just been occupying. Einin gaped in horror at the sight, and then up at Jarrett as the smoke cleared. One second later and they would have been dead.

Shakily, she straightened up as Jarrett took a seat beside her and took note of his injured arm. At least that was all that was injured; with a fall like he'd taken, and without the soft landing she'd had, he could have done a lot worse.

She cracked a crooked grin.

"Ahaha, right? I thought it matched the overall decor. Can you guess this room's theme?" Einin asked, sweeping her arm out in a gesture that encompassed the ruined and smoking room, which was now starting to catch on fire even as above and around them, support structures groaned ominously. "Also, you're hereafter forbidden from speaking. That was too uncanny so let's not tempt fate, eh?"

Looking around the room, though the visibility was terrible, she rose to her feet and winced as splinters dug into her soles. Nope. Definitely shouldn't have lost the shoes, but she'd just have to deal with it now. "C'mon, sitting here isn't gonna--"

She cut off with an indignant yelp when a jet of cold water came cascading down into the both of them, thoroughly drenching them--while of course completely missing the pile of burning rubble! With a grimace, she spat out water and tugged at Jarrett's good arm. At least the water would help with the smoke, if only a little.

"If you can joke, you can walk, so let's go. There's gotta be a door down here or something. Most places like these have escape routes built in. It wouldn't make sense that they'd have a basement without an exit..." But all she could see was the staircase leading up to the door that lead to the floor above. Maybe--? Nope. Even as she thought it, part of the roof there collapsed with a roar and a hiss and took a chunk of the staircase with it.

"Alright. That's out," Einin mumbled to herself. As she turned in a careful circle, flinching as the broken wood cut her, she saw it.

It was a door. She didn't know if it was the door, but it was a door.

And between them and it was a pile of support beams and shingles that were very much on fire.

"Are you kidding me?" But they might be able to find a way. It was worth a shot, in any case. And even as she considered it, the house gave another warning groan and more bits of roof and room rained down around them, some chunks on fire and catching on whatever would burn. They didn't have much time left.

Shaking her wet bangs out of her eyes and taking a deep breath through the soaked cloth, Einin tried to calm her racing heart. Panicking would do no good. "Okay. The door there. We might still be able to get through--only forget the 'might'. We're gonna have to make it work."

Meanwhile, above ground, the guards scrambled to do crowd control (including helping the horror-struck Lord Beirne with his wife, who had fainted again when the roof collapsed and took Einin with it), another guard rushed up to Ryk with a thick coil of rope. He looked breathless and his face was smeared with soot; clearly he had made a narrow escape from the manor earlier himself.

"Will this suffice, Master Handelaar?" he asked, holding the rope out to him. And then something clicked in the young guard's tired brain and his eyes widened. He stared at the man, mouth gaping. "Sir, you're actually thinking about...? It's terribly unsafe, the place could collapse at any second now!"

"Well then we better be quick then eh?" Ryk grabbed one end of the rope and tied it around the guard. Then he threw the other end into the hole. "You there," Ryk pointed to a random servant that was standing by doing nothing. How useless. His servants wouldn't dare. "Help support this man as he braces the rope and I descend. If I get injured in a fall, I'll have your head." As the servant did as bidden, Ryk climbed through the window and began to descend down into the cavernous basement.

Jarrett sat up from the chaise, ignoring his injured arm for now as he stared about the room as she mentioned it's decore. Well, she wasn't entirely wrong in her joke. The red-chaise lounge looked rather dashing against the walls of fiery, hell flames spewing off the walls and ceilings.

Turning back to her, he was about to speak when suddenly, the pair of them were soaked through in a random torrential down pour. Funny how the only two that were now wet were the only living creatures down int he basement. ANd the flames remained unscathed. He blinked and glanced up, wondering what sort of luck they had just been entitled to. Seemed uncanny to him. Either way, he smoothed a hand over his face, sweeping his black hair out of his eyes as he looked down at the floor to where the corpse of Figleo Bakk remained a crumpled heap. ANd it figured the damn man's ass was now on fire. Moving forward, he patted it out by kicking it down with his boot. And it was while he was doing this he blinked and something caught his attention.

Shoving Figleo aside, he noticed a small sewer grate in the floor. He said nothing, merely opened the thing and tossed it aside.
"I think we found our way out." he said, not even bothering to look at the door Einen had to determinedly believed was their exit, for at that EXACT moment, a piece of ceiling above it caved in, and hot flames roared at the pair of them.

Jarrett wasted no time in hefting up Figleo, then dropped him down into the stinky darkness. He waited a minute then listened. Six seconds later, he heard a splash. "The drop will be painful..." Jarrette spoke, though mostly to himself as he smoothed a hand down his chin. Now how was he to get down there without becoming a corpse like Figleo Bakk?

And as if on cue, Ryk Handelaar showed up, with a nice fat rope attached around his waist. Jarret raised his brows. Ah, what luck.

"Good timing. I need this." he said, reaching out and grabbing onto the rope still bound to Mr. Handelaar.

Jarrett was reaching for the rope, that was only secured by being tied around another man at the top. Ryk knew that things could get far worse if he pulled the rope, and the man, down from above. He saw Jarrett pull the grate aside as he was descending, and if the man had taken a look inside the grate, would have noticed a net hanging not far in from the edge. The Wolves used such nets to access many of the wealthy homes in Arca through the sewers, and a rope would not be needed to go down there. Though the Bloods that were patrolling that area would not take kindly to an intruder. Also, if he and at least Einin did not ascend the rope to the awaiting crowd, there would be trouble. Especially if they had to explain how they escaped through the sewers. Then all the nobles and wealthy folk would be checking their own sewer accesses.

Ryk looked like a pampered rich man, which was the point of this identity, so it was not a surprise that Jarrett was not expecting any attack. Especially not one so fast and expertly done. A quick and simple wrist lock put pressure on the joint just right, that would bring even the toughest man to his knees. It didn't cause any serious damage, but could break bones easily if taken far enough. "I'm sorry sir. I do not think I have made your acquaintance. I am Ryk Handelaar, wealthy merchant, and I recognize that I do not recognize you," Ryk put just a bit more pressure on Jarrett's wrist, "And that is rare indeed. Introductions aside, I'm sure you are eager to ascend out of this basement, but a gentleman always allows a lady to reach safety first." He looked over in the direction of the young crime fighter Owl, in the now ragged dress of her secret identity, "Einin dear, if you please. The guard that the other end of this rope is tied to, did not look willing to remain close to the fire for long, so perhaps we should hurry." With that he released Jarrett's hand, but remained vigilant in case of retaliation. He did not wish to fight the assassin now, not without his eye patch, but with Aestival and Hiemal hanging on his hip, he wasn't too worried. He wondered if anyone had noticed that the heat was not affecting him much and that the flames seemed to avoid him. Hopefully not.

"Einin. Please. Ascend quickly. Your mother fainted when you fell in, and you should try not to worry her so much."

OOC: I had a silly idea, so I went with it and it kind of made for a long post. HOWEVER, if you'd like me to edit this reply I can XD not married to the idea, it just made me lol- so hope it's okay I assumed some things >_> if not, PM me and I will change it! <3

I can't ever make any rp scenario easy or... without awkwardness XD

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The reaction surprised him, though was not wholly unexpected. Stuffed-shirts normally tried to play the gallant sort. It's why they were so easy to kill. ANd at his introduction, he merely stared at the man, seemingly now unphased by the grip Ryk had upon him and was more concerned why someone would introduce themselves as a 'wealthy anything' as part of their title than the grip upon him. Not that it mattered, he knew that name. A few hits were out for him but no one seemed to touch him. Jarrett eyed him over. Now he was curious as to why.

Perhaps now was not the time, and once he was released, he said nothing, simply craned his neck up to look at the rope that was now on fire, watching as the flames of hell were quickly biting at the middle, threatening to break the rope clean in half as the man up above was sputtering out his concern, cause you know, freaking out that the rope was on fire was going to put it out.

So Jarrett did the logical thing, he stepped the hell out of the way and looked for something else. He was not about to climb up a rope through three stories of a burning building. Nobles might be suicidal, but Jarrett L'isson was not. Besides, Figleo was getting soggy, and upon further examination in the open sewer grate, his eyes narrowed upon something and his lips moved just short of a smile, though that smile was evident in his eyes. There was some sort of netting or ladder just a few feet down inside the sewer.

It was then entire manor above them let out a lurching groan, reminding them they had little time left before the whole thing collapsed.

But it seemed that time was running short, as Jarrett heard a wicked crack above them. Swearing through his teeth, he said nothing, and unbeknowest even to his self why he cared to do it, he yanked onto Einen's arm and dragged her with him, both dropping through the sewer opening as a part of the building began drop from the ceiling above. Ryk Handelaar be damned. The pomp merchant could take care of himself. See what the wealthy title won him when the building was about to eat him alive with flames. ANd as the pair fell, moments later they landed within a springy net, which, for a brief moment, Jarrett just lay there upon his back. As he looked up, smoke and flames were spitting down towards them.

Well.. that was close. And as he lay there, he slowly began to frown. Maybe he should have saved the merchant too, for if he were to be killed, who would ever collect his bounty if the fires turned his body to ash? It seemed an awful waste.... so inspite of his broken arm, he moved to the ladder near by, and began to ascend it without so much as a word. And when he reached the top, he was glad his hand was still bleeding. Too bad it was his hand that was injured. But he couldn't waste time on wincing at the pain, he had a merchant to save with a hell of a bounty on his head, so whispering the words of his mistress, his fist suddenly burst out into flames ad he slammed it clean into the debris that was once blocking the entrance to the sewer.

Fighting fire with fire worked, the debris exploded aside, uncovering the manhole and billowing terrible smoke into Jarrett's face. Coughing, he waved a hand through it and frowned. But he had to ignore that for now and poked his head through and looked around for the damn merchant. Best to save his life now, look into the bounty later. ALl he needed was a face after all, and now he had one.

And it was terribly hard to see, and the only thing Jarrett noticed as a pair of pant legs nearby. That was good enough. Maybe if he was dead already he could just say he killed him. He did start the fire, after all, and without so much as a second thought, he grabbed onto his ankle and yanked Ryk Handelaar down the manhole.
Perhaps he should have warned Einen, 'Look out below?'

Einin was lagging, the rope was burning, the house was creaking. Kia! This was not going how he had hopped. With a massive creak more roof gave way and Jarrett grabbed Einin, dropping into the manhole. Aestival protected Ryk against heat and fire, but falling debris was not on the list. He severed the rope with a sleeved dagger, and rolled away from the massive pillar headed his way. Well he'd have to just go for the manhole himself, too bad it was now covered in flaming floor boards from above.

The boards exploded away from the sewer access and Ryk covered his face against the flying splinters. What the hell? Through the smoke and dust he was just able to see, Jarrett? And then without warning he was pulled through the hole, and into the sewers. Good thing he didn't have Aestival or Hiemal drawn. Dropping one of those legendary blades would have made this day much worse. He tumbled through the air, threw out his arms and grabbed the edge of the net. He swung around and under and put his foot through the harness that would pull the net along, so it could be climbed more easily. That reflexive action, was probably not the best for keeping up the cover of pampered fop. He tied off the harness and used a rappel to swing around to Einin.

"You okay there Lady Beirne?"

"Uhhhhh..."

That was the only response Einin could give at first as she lay there on the net, which was still bouncing from their landing. After a moment, though, she took a deep breath (and was especially thankful for the cloth, now that they were in the sewers) and slowly sat up, rubbing her head. She was shaken and messy but otherwise unhurt, though her dress was singed in places to show just how close a call that had been, and her feet were cut. She held the breath and let it out.

That had been utterly terrifying and yet strangely exciting, and when that hit her, that the thrumming in her body and pumping of her heart wasn't all fear, she let out a startled laugh.

This was so crazy.

And with a pang of guilt she realized she felt more in her element now, in all this destruction and drama, than she had during the entire Ball.

"Well, that was rather exhilarating! What a party!" she said at last and, realizing her dress has hiked up some, yanked it back down. Ugh. This would be so much easier in breeches. "Ahaha, I'm fine, in any case. Never better! And what about you, Master Handelaar? I never realized merchants were so athletic."

Rising up onto her knees, she crawled to the edge of the net and offered him her hand to help him up. "My fiance," she said with a roll of her eyes, "on the other hand, doesn't seem to be doing so well. And now we're in a sewer. But I suppose things could be worse?"

As the other two were conversing, Jarrett seemed to be elsewhere, or going elsewhere as he began to climb down a ladder that lead downwards towards the sewer floor where Figleo Bakk was still floating lightly atop of the two foot pile thick layer of sewer waters that waited for them down below. ANd it was kind of annoying, and a little bit hard to climb with only one hand, but he did it anyways, wishing, with each step on the rung, that he had a cigar right about now. His only cigar had been lost to the chaos. That made him frown before he stepped off the ladder and glance down at Figleo.

Ugh. The dead body was drenched and reeked. And now with a broken arm, Jarrett contemplated just how he was going to carry the corpse clean out of here. He supposed he could leave it and retrieve it later, but he had come this far, and damn it if he was just going to let his mark slip away after that. Though the man might have deserved to rot in the sewers, money was money and he still needed to eat. So with a sigh through his nose, he bent over and attempted to lift the man up with his only good arm, whihc, wasn't happening, so he had to use both, ignoring the pain as his face began to turn red and he began to sweat again before, one, two, three, a soggy, stinky Figleo was hefted onto his shoulder.

Ryk Handelaar, wealthy merchant, employed an entire household of specialized servants, and even had his own house guard, that was nearly a personal army. Many of these servants, and bodyguards were Soot Wolves. They had been placed in his service by the Red Wolf. With so much invested in the Handelaar merchant contracts, it was important to keep an eye on Soot Wolf interests. The knowledge that some of his servants were Wolves was openly known to Ryk. Why shouldn't they be there to protect him from assassins or rival gangs. But Ryk being Rufus, he knew who all the Wolves on his staff were. They just didn't know he knew. So when a patrol came around the bend in the tunnel, probably drawn in by all the noise from above, it was no surprise that a few of the Wolves immediately recognized him. When he saw them approaching he threw Einin a wink and swung down to the narrow path that the Wolves were jogging along.

"Fear not young miss, I will protect you from these Wolves." Ryk walked toward the mix of Bloods and Shadows and used the bit of hand talk that 'Rufus had taught him for emergencies'. -Red Wolf Friend Merchant- The Wolves slowed and met Ryk with their weapons sheathed. "Sir, why are you in our sewers?"

"Hello Wolves," Ryk responded with a wide grin, "the fierce fire and collapsing structure above forced us down here," he glanced back over his shoulder before continuing in hushed tones, "Neither of my companions know that I am associated with you, and I'm sure Rufus would like to keep it that way," he reached into coin purse and pulled out the last red Wolf token he had on him, and handed it to the lead Blood. The few Wolves who didn't know his identity gave each other questioning looks, "L'isson, the man carrying the corpse there, doesn't know I'm aware of his identity either. He could use one of Chora's special potions, I'd prefer not to give him my last. Perhaps then you could give him some help getting his 'prize' out of here as well." Ryk smiled and waved to Einin to assure her that everything was going just fine. "The young Lady Einin Beirne and I could also use an escort to the nearest street access. I'd prefer we hurry as to cause as little distress to the large crowd gathered above."

The Blood holding the token, who happened to be one of Ryk's house guards, looked down at it then back at his companions, and grinned. "No problem Mr. Handelaar. We'll take care of it for you." Two Bloods hopped down into the sewage then and approached Jarrett, while a Shadow dashed off to scout the shortest path to the surface to be sure it was clear. Ryk turned back to his Einin then and called out nice and clear so that Jarrett would hear as well, "The bribes been paid, our new friends have agreed to help us get out of here."

As the two Blood Wolves approached Jarrett, they gave the message that all Wolves were instructed to give the assassin should they ever cross his path. After running into him two nights in a row himself, he thought it best that all the Wolves be prepared to see him. "Canis Rufus sends his regards Mr. L'isson, and his hope that he can continue to welcome your presence in the city." One offered the assassin a potion, "This will mend all your wounds, and then we'd be happy to help you remove your mark from our sewers."

Jarrett L'isson was no fool, and never a man to have to take the escape route of a sewer, lest, you know, his life was now hanging in the precarious balance with a collapsing flaming manor home over top of him. Then...well, you know how it is, desperate times call for desperate measures.  But ti was a shame, really, his nice wine colored suit was now destroyed,a nd he had Figleo Bakk to blame. Good thing the man was dead.

But as he shifted the weight of his corpse upon his shoulder, grunting lightly, he began to look around, blinking as he did so as he began to realize, there was not just one lattice system and one net... but several that hung around beneath the ground at open man holes.
Interesting..
and the sight of a few scouts from the wolves only confirmed what he had a hunch.
So... these sort of wolves loved running around ... you know, in the stinky dark. Though he hadn't expected the approach, or the gesture, so when the wolves spoke to him, Jarrett only stared back at them, the corpse still on his shoulder, and made no move or gesture, nor a voice other wise that stated if he was happy they were there to help...
or not.

As Ryk handled the Wolves and Jarrett climbed down to the...now sewage-covered body...Einin settled back on the net and tore more strips from her dress. It was ruined beyond repair now, anyway, so may as well put the thing to some use!

She used the torn strips to bind her feet, and though the material wasn't exactly strong or durable, it would work in a pinch. By the time Ryk had finished and called up to her, she was done, and she leaned over the edge of the net and waved to show she heard. "Wonderful! Be right down!"

Locating the ladder Jarrett had used, she started to go for it--and then froze with her hand on a rung. Wait. Riiiight. She was Lady Beirne right now. Lady Beirne didn't do these things. Lady Beirne didn't climb ladders or slog around sewers or get dirty. It was Owl who didn't fear heights, and she'd probably already done too much today as Lady Beirne, climbing up onto the roof and all, but at least that could be hand-waved as being manic with terror for her "fiance" or something. Probably the last people that needed to know her identity were the other Wolves.

With a low sigh, she pulled her hand away and let her shoulders slump, sitting on her knees by the net's edge. Gods, she hated this. The role of helpless maiden was not one she took to naturally.

"Oh dear. However will I get down? It's so high and I might fall!" she said loudly, hating every second of it. She could have been down there already! She rubbed her temples. "Gods, I feel a little dizzy!"

Jarrett looked up at Lady Einen. ANd stared.. and stared for a good long moment, one eye still hidden behind the normal leftward swooping bang of his hair.
"You can use the ladder," he said simply. Then he pointed at it, with his good arm, as he shuffled Figleo's weight upon his shoulder. "It's right there."

"Yes, I'm aware it's right there," Einin said, folding her arms over her chest. "But my feet are bare and there's a lot of men around and I don't want you peeping up my dress!"

Alright, so that last bit was at least a genuine concern.

Jarrett kept his neck craned.
And stared, and stared.
"Oh.. so I can."

You know, see up her dress.

Einin flushed red in earnest and quickly tucked the fabric between her legs. "Stop that!"

Jarrett kept staring, and after a while, he simply asked, "Where are your shoes?" As if just realizing she was shoeless for the first time.

Einin shifted uncomfortably, keeping her dress bunched up protectively and her legs closed tight. Gods be damned. Maybe next time she could wear breeches under the dress? "I said knock it off, you perv--huh?"

She blinked at his question, and was about to answer with the truth--that they hadn't been practical--but since she was the helpless noblewoman, she shrugged. "I, ah...lost them in the fall?"

Jarrett kept staring, that was, until he felt his neck growing stiff. He shuffled the weight of Figleo on his shoulders, then stared over at his feet...
Hey.. Figleo was wearing shoes..
Clearly the corpse didn't need them. Dropping Figleo on the ground, he set to work prying the shoes off his feet. What the hell- they were almost glued on there. Grunting, he finally yanked them off with some success, shook his head to move his bangs out of the way that had fallen over his eye then proceeded to climb back up to Einen. He offered over the shoes.

"Here." he then moved them closer. "You can wear his."

What was he...? Was he...no. He wasn't. He didn't actually think...?

But then he climbed back up to the net where she was and offered her the shoes, bringing with them a fresh, ripe stink that the cloth over her face didn't protect her from.

She stared at the shoes in horror, recoiling from the sewage covered corpse shoes and covering her mouth as they brought on a gag.

"I..." She coughed, turning away. "No way. Uh uh. I am not wearing those!"

Jarrett's face went long as he stared at her, then down at the shoes, just as a goop of sewer grime slipped off...
and fell with a splat onto Figleo's ass. Jarrett frowned, and adjust his weight upon the ladder rungs. Gods, did his arm ever hurt.
"But you don't have any shoes." He stared at her feet. "Do you expect to just walk in the sewer with those?" And he pointed to her bare feet, with just a limp piece of torn clothe bound around them. He then set the shoes beside her, shrugged and moved to climb away. Frankly, he'd rather not be traipsing around in the sewers either, but hey, at least he had shoes on. Then again, as he began his descent down the ladder, he felt a squish inside his shoes and frowned.
That was.. definitely sewer slime in there. Internally, he sighed.

"A lady does not wear the sewage covered shoes of a man who broke his neck in the fall," Ryk said. Hopefully that would be enough to cover the fact that he knew Bakk was dead and that he wasn't troubled by it. The two Blood Wolves, in the mean time hoisted the corpse between them and continued to offer a potion to Jarrett.

"Drop down and I shall catch you," Ryk smiled up at Einin, "I'll be happy to carry you to the exit my dear."

It wasn't until Jarrett was at the bottom of the ladder did he turn around to notice...
The damn wolves were touching his corpse! His eyes went wide, but he, simply remained standing there, glancing down at the potion, then over to them. If he had his cigar between his lips, it would have fallen clean out.

"Get the hell off of my corpse," he said, pushing between the pair of them, ignoring the potion and moving to retrieve Figleo.

OOC: loool

The two Bloods looked at each other with bewilderment. The assassin apparently did not desire any aid. The first one asked him then, "how do you intend to carry him up a net and out of here discreetly with all of your injuries?"

The second Blood nodded and added, "the nearest ramped access that you won't get stabbed trying to exit through, is nearly eight miles of tunnel away from here. Are you sure we cannot assist, or at least offer healing?" He held out the potion again.

Einin sighed. Acting a lady was a lot easier when she was in duller situations, and being carried around like a damsel wasn't her idea of a good time. But alas. She had to play her role, as Ryk was playing his, and Jarrett was...uh...doing something. He wasn't playing his role very well here.

"You'll catch me?" she repeated, affecting nervousness. Not all of it was feigned. She was used to doing things herself, so trusting someone to catch her was another matter entirely; it was out of her control. "Um...okay..."

Retying her dress around her leg, which had come undone in all the action, she hoped that would be enough to keep her from flashing anyone below. And then she moved to the net's edge and carefully swung down until she dangled from the edge by her arms, peering down below at Ryk, and perhaps moving more gracefully and assuredly than she should have. Alright, then. Here goes nothing!

With a deep breath, she let go.

True to his word Ryk caught the falling Einin with no effort. She was soft, but firm, and even covered in the smell of soot and surrounded by sewage, he could smell her sweet scent. The temptation to grope her, to kiss her, was there, but he was Ryk, not Rufus, and he contained himself.

"I will keep you safe, and clean," he smirked at her, and gave her a wink.

Help him? Potions? Carry his corpse!?
Jarrett's head was spinning. This was just too much. Was he dreaming!? Was this for real!? He sure as shit wasn't about to let the damn wolves take any profit from his kill! Gods, did they even know how many CIGARS he could buy with the bounty!? Or that he needed it now to replace this damn suit!? (Since the Gods only knew that well, it was ruined after a day like today. He sure as shit wasn't going to wear it again!)

"No, here, give the corpse back to me and-" Though it hardly happened as ceremonious as he'd like, for as he grabbed the corpse, yanking Figleo into his arms, (and straining his already dislocated and probably broken shoulder and arm) he slipped a little and gave a yowl of pain and went gliding across the sludge of the sewer pool with a grunted gasp. And in doing so, his arms were pinwheeling into some sort of awkward dance step as he ever so gracefully, launched the corpse clean into Ryk Handelaar.

Corpse and man went sailing, knocking Ryk clean out of the way, which sent Einen into the air, leaving Jarrett sliding into Ryk's place, giving him barely enough time to collect himself as he was still slipping on the slippery sludge before finally coming to a halt. Sighing, the assassin now was doubled over, a hand to his knee, the other one out for balance as he remained, crouched over the waters and balancing forward on his heels as he looked down at his muted reflection in the grimy waters. Thank gods he stopped. He could have been eating that sewer now, face first.






But then a mere second later... he was.

Sewer water splashed everywhere as Lady Einen crashed onto his back. It took a while for his breath to come back to him, and he was positively gagging. Lady Einen hadn't initially missed her mark, but no thanks to him, his back was used to break her second, glamorous fall. Winded, Jarrett lay face first in the sewer, and his fine, wine-colored suit, a sludgy, stinky mess.
He thought he might vomit. ANd spat out... Gods... had he just taken some of the sewer water into his mouth!?

He began to dry heave beneath her, and continued to do so, because well, the nasty sewer water was just NOT getting out of his mouth. He had never tasted anything so vile in all of his life. And he was gagging for so long his face was turning purple.  He couldn't breath.

And he kept tasting the acidic repercussions of his almost vomitting that he jolted up from where he lay, tossing Einen clean off his back like a bucking horse, before madly dashing over to the soot wolves while clutching at his throat. His face was becoming all sorts of fun shades before finally, he yanked the damn potion from their hands. Even if it was poison, it'd be better than tasting the damn sewer water around him.
He knocked it back in one gulp, shivering as the thing went down, gasping at the after taste.

"Gods.." he made a face, dropping the bottle. "This almost tastes worst than the damn sewer." He  was still half keeled over as if ready to retch, but the moment soon passed, a calming washing over him as he shivered a second time. Then, righting his posture, he lifted his sleeve to his mouth, wiping it across his lips before he turned to Einen. He placed his hands onto his hips.

"So.. "he said, recomposing himself again as normal color began to return to his face and he brushed his side bang away from his eyes. "Where are the shoes I got you?"

Einin didn't realize she'd closed her eyes until, with a grunt, she landed in Ryk's arms and reflexively threw her own arms around his neck. Looking up at him, she let out a held breath and relaxed as much as she could, considering how...awkward this was. When he winked at her, she blushed and let go of him, folding her hands in her lap, and grit her teeth at her own reaction. Seriously? Seriously?

She averted her eyes. "Yes, yes, now let's get out of--"

WHAM!

The next thing she knew, she was airborne, but not for long. With a yelp, she came crashing back down--

Right onto Jarrett's back.

Sewage splashed up around them as the man collapsed face-first in the water and Einin threw up her hands to shield her face from the collateral. It didn't stop some of it from splattering onto her dress and hair, but it could have been worse.

It could have gotten in her mouth.

Before she could collect herself, Jarrett bucked her off of him and she toppled backwards onto the ground. Not into the sewer water, thankfully, but even the ground around it was covered in nastiness, and he wasn't the only one that started gagging. Coughing and choking from the smell, from the stuff that was on her, from the stuff she was sitting in, and from just knowing Jarrett had gotten some in his mouth, Einin leaped to her feet and tried to find a dry spot on the ground to stand on, but it was a lost cause, and it was seeping between her toes. She was covered in shit! In actual shit! And who knows what else! Oh gods! There were a lot of things she was willing to do but she didn't even think Owl was ready for THIS!

"Ohmygodsohmygodsohmygodsthisissofuckinggross!" she cringed, flailing her arms, and didn't care that she wasn't exactly speaking like a lady. "Shitshitshit!"

And then Jarrett had the gall to bring up the shoes.

Einin's face went positively green at the memory. "I DON'T WANT THE DAMNED CORPSE SHOES!"

"But I brought them all the way up there for you," he said, peering up at the net.

That single moment of the pleasure of holding the lovely Einin in his arms was ruined most splendidly when the assassin crashed into him. Well at least Jarrett was paying for his stubbornness with the torture of sewage mouth. The enchantments around the Den that filtered and purified the water that ran through the Wolves inhabited areas did not extend out this far. It was a constant fear of new recruits that they'd be hazed by getting "accidentally" knocked into the filth. This was one of the reasons that Ryk carried around his enchanted "primper", as he called the tiny item he used on himself and Ava earlier. Too bad it was in his vest on the surface. As it was, he was glad he had been only knocked into the wall and wasn't sprawled in the slow current of slime that drifted by. Now that Jarrett was fully healed from that potion, he would be able to carry Figelo all on his own.

"The potion tastes different for everyone," the first Blood said, "I taste Adelan apple pie."

The second one nodded and added, "For me it tastes like goat cheese."

Ryk, smirked at that one. Goat Cheese? For him, Chora's potion tasted like sun ripened strawberries with sweet cream and honey. Chora believed the flavor was somehow linked with sexual experience. She may craft them, but she wasn't totally sure how it worked. Ryk offered his hand to Einin as she made an ugly face at her toes. "I am still willing to carry you to prevent you from any more filthy mishaps," he smiled at her serenely, "and when we reach the surface, and I get something from my vest, I'll have you magic clean in a moment."

Ryk didn't have to make that offer twice.

Einin snatched up his hand and tip-toed her way closer, trying to step in as little of the stuff as she could. "Oh gods, yes please," she said, unable to fathom how he could look so poised and collected right now. Was he immune to the grossness? She shuddered, and swallowed hard to keep from gagging again.

She slipped in a puddle and grabbed onto his shoulder with her free hand, smearing some of the stuff onto his shirt, and she blanched again. Ughhhhh.

"Urp...sorry."

Ryk smiled, and actually let out a little laugh. He gently pulled Einin in close and lifted her into his arms. It was very often pleasant being Ryk Handelaar, wealthy merchant. Rufus would have tossed her over his shoulder like a sack. Sure that would have entailed some groping and holding her secure on his shoulder by her rump, which Ryk would have enjoyed, but he doubted her displeasure at that would have made it worth it.

"I assure you, that it is my pleasure to assist you," he turned back to the Wolves that were not aiding Jarrett, "lead the way gentlemen. We don't want to leave the young ladies parents worried." As the wolves approached he spoke in a low voice to Einin. "I can tell that this place disgusts you. But I assure you that there are far worse smells you could be covered in, and I'll have you fixed up in a jiff."

It felt glorious to be off the ground, and this time Einin kept her arms looped tightly around Ryk's neck in case of more...unfortunate mishaps like the one before. Shamelessly, she even leaned into him more than was proper, because he smelled better than the air around them. Beneath the soot and sewage, there was still the far more pleasant scent of clean, pampered fop.

His words, however, got her attention and she glanced up at him, eyes slightly narrowed. She wasn't sure if that was Ryk or Rufus speaking just then.

"Is that a threat?" she asked, keeping her voice low for him alone.

"I assure you it is not. Simply an observation. I once had to hide in a pile of old corpses in the sewers of Zantaric when I was eleven, to escape a boy much larger than me that wanted to kill me for stealing on his street," he had a momentary flash of angry flickered in his eyes at the memory, "this smell does not compare."

Einin grimaced, and her overactive imagination did not help. "I...see..." she said, and had a brief memory of what he'd told her during their first encounter, about his childhood, and then another memory of those bodies. The two that had died that night, the other that Jarrett killed the next day...that familiar guilt returned. Gods, she didn't want to think about corpses.

She swallowed hard again and turned her face against his shirt, because the sewage was starting to smell like death.

"So, uh...why do you still do it, then?" she mumbled. "Crime and whatnot. If you're rich now and everything. Wouldn't you wanna get away from that stuff?"

"Well it's the crime, coupled with the merchant front, that has made me the second richest person in Arca, and the most politically powerful," he had his cool air about him again. "I not only run all the crime and nearly half the trade in Arca, but I keep that crime in check. There are others, that with my power would set Arca into chaos, and it could be worse than Zantaric here. Of course then outside forces within Serendipity would step in and there would be war on the streets. People, innocent people, would get hurt. We are criminals, and the world would be a better place without criminals, and without crime. But in the absence of perfection, I try to keep things under control," he looked into her eyes and continued, "I especially try to keep children free of the sort of life I had. Until someone comes along that can make this world free of it's evils, I will control and direct the forces to prevent as much tragedy as I can. That's while you'll see that in the last five years, child prostitution and slavery have disappeared in Arca, and kidnapping mortalities are nearly none existent."

"Modest, aren'tcha?" Einin remarked with a wry smile, but sobered quickly after.

"I dunno. That's all very noble and all, but it's still fighting crime with crime. It's substituting one kind of badness for another kind of badness. And I mean, you've got all this knowledge. Why not be like...a knight or something? Create some elite force that can do all that or...something? Protect people, save children, stomp out child trafficking, without, you know...victimizing other people?"

She frowned, looking away. "Those people the other day, they didn't have to die. And robbing them was just senseless. They didn't even have that much on them. And what about your Wolves? What do they do when you're not looking? They're criminals. Hell, that oaf of a man was more than ready to kill me."

Glancing back up at him, she smiled. "C'mon, don't lie. The easy money's a huge draw, right?"

"The money is great, and the women are another draw. But none are nearly as beautiful as you," Ryk gave Einin a charming smile and a wink.

"But seriously, those people didn't need to die, and only the one of them, plus my wolf, did. The other one, we let go. We try to avoid killing whenever possible. You can't continue to rob or blackmail a dead man. And they had something priceless. The jeweled long knife that's at my hip now. It is worth more money than I have, and it's only one piece of the collection," he contemplated telling her more about the God Blade, but decided against it.

"I could become a noble knight that fights for honor and the good of the people, stamping out evil wherever I can. But evil would still exist, and would likely be much worse than what I perpetrate," he looked up at the distant ceiling just in time to notice and dodge a drip of slime that would have landed on Einin's face. "Plus I don't think it would be quite as fun."

Oh, flattery. Einin rolled her eyes at his wink. She was sure she was the first and last person he'd ever tell that to, but Ryk continued speaking before she could comment.

"True," Einin said, pursing her lips as though in serious thought. "And I'd be down one arch rival, and every hero's got to have one of those, according to the stories and the rules of basically everything. It's still a bit of a shame. You could have been on the good side, but instead I have to take you down."

She gave him a teasing smile, oblivious to the dripping slime and joking as usual in the face of danger--though there was truth there, too.

"I'm still not sure where exactly he fits in," Einin remarked, glancing briefly toward Jarrett. "But I'm pretty sure I have to take him out, too. You know. When I've had more practice on your Wolves. You're both a little much for me now."

All the while they were chit-chatting, Jarrett had already gotten his corpse, gotten out of the slime pool, and was making his way towards one of the sewer halls. His green eyes were studying the networking above with some interest, and seemed not to notice the others as he was seeking his own way out.

"Mr. L'isson is a rare breed of assassin. The wolves usually don't tolerate killers in Arca, but the strange code that is displayed in his behavior may make him an asset worth using," he looked right at her as he added, "every tool has its place. Even an adversary."

They were nearing the way up, leaving Jarrett further behind. Ryk was thinking up what he'd say. Of course he would have to play the hero, as the bird in his arms surely wouldn't. The loss of Figelo Bakk and Einin's fiance would be two tragic losses, but their own survival would hopefully outshine that. This was not an ideal situation. He tried to be notorious and scandalous, while maintaining charm and a reputation as a shrewd businessman. Being heroic was not part of his shtick. But he'd manage it. With little difficulty, surely.

"Once I have my vest I will get you cleaned up," he said to her as they went across a make shift bridge that spanned a canal of sludge, "it won't mend the fabric of your dress or heal cuts and bruises, but you and your clothing will be fresh and clean." He glanced around at the Wolves surrounding them before continuing, "I'll ask my good friend Rufus to send you a supply of Chora's mending potions and an adjustable thigh harness to carry them in trousers or a dress. That way Owl and Einin can both carry them," he gave her a half grin at that. "You know, I don't see myself as evil. I do good things with the money I earn from working with the Wolves. And Rufus isn't all that bad either. Sure his hands are not free of blood, but I rather have him running the Wolves than the last fool to have the job. I hear he didn't even last a week before he died trying to kill Rufus."

As they approached the netting and rope ladder that led up to the grate they would be using Ryk could see that the Shadow that ran ahead had already prepared everything. He hung with his foot in the harness that pulled the network together for practical use. "I will head up first so I can push out the grate, and so you won't feel that I'm peeking at your smallclothes." The area right at the ladder was fairly clean and he gently set her on her feet there.

"This grate comes out in the road just outside the manor grounds, we'll have a small hike to the gate, and I'm sure they'll bring my vest and coat to me there. Or we can walk up to the manor and the crowd that is surely there now. Ready?" Without waiting for a response, Ryk began to effortlessly climb the swaying rope ladder that led to the surface.

"How gentlemanly of you, sir!" Einin said with a snort, and stuck a foot in the bottom rung.

With Ryk ascending the ladder ahead of her, Einin gave one last backward glance toward where Jarrett had gone with his, ah...corpse. Was he going to follow them? Or retreat elsewhere? Augh, this was going to be so awkward. If he didn't show up, he'd be assumed dead, so she supposed she'd have to give some sort of heartbroken performance to make it all believable and everything. Sigh. Well, she did love acting, so this would be a good test of those skills!

Inwardly, she cringed as she began to climb up the ladder. Here she was, thinking about acting, when a home had burned down, someone had been murdered, and her family no doubt thought her dead. Yet her mind hadn't properly processed that; the entire night had a surreal quality to it. But...gods. Her parents were probably terrified. Her mother was no doubt beside herself with tears. A heavy pang of guilt struck her hard in the gut, making her insides twist, and she swallowed hard and climbed a little faster.

She didn't want to scare her, or hurt her.

She just wasn't sure how she could be who she was without doing either.

The severity of the situation sank in more with each foot she ascended, and by the time she climbed out of the grate and flopped down onto the road, she felt terrible. Of all the crazy things she'd done, this was the craziest, because everything else she'd done in private. This had witnesses. This was just plain reckless. This had been a giant fuck you to her parents, and she had meant for it to be, and now she felt horrible for it.

And she hated that in either identity, she had to fake something.

At least she wouldn't have to fake the tears.

She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand quickly, because she didn't want anyone to see it before it was actually time to perform.

"Gods, I'd almost forgotten what air was supposed to smell like!"

Ryk gave Einin a hand up, as she exited the sewer. He grinned at her comment about the air of Arca, which he didn't find all that refreshing, and placed the grate back in position.

"If you wish to smell truly fresh air you should go sailing in the north. The crisp cold air is the cleanest I have ever experienced. But I hear that high mountain air is truly a wonder."

He adjusted his two blades, so that one hung from each hip, instead of the usual pairing. Without asking, which he probably should have, Ryk gently swept Einin back up into his arms. Her feet were not looking fantastic and there were occasionally sharp cobble stones in the road, cracked from carts and carriages. With the blades moved apart, they no longer dug into him from the pressure of his arm under the young Lady's weight. With that discomfort gone, she seemed weightless.

"You are so very light. Do you get enough to eat?"

He began the walk toward the gate, and he could see that the guards there noticed them approaching.

"Hopefully they will not fuss too much. I would like to get my vest. I hate when my boots are dirty."

Einin felt ridiculous, being carried like this, and yet also appreciative. Her feet did hurt, so the reprieve was nice, but jeez. Being carried like a damsel was not her style, and it was made even more awkward considering who was doing the carrying, and even more awkward considering she'd thrown her arms around his neck when he'd swooped her up again. It had been reflexive! He'd taken her off guard! With a start, she loosened her clinging grip and folded one hand in her lap, so that her other arm was slung more casually around his shoulder for purchase.

Ugh.

At least all that had distracted her right out of her tears.

"Pfffft. You've never seen how much I eat," she said with a small grin and a wry look up at him. "When I can expand my gut enough to eat. Have you ever tried eating while wearing something like this? Of course not. Lords get to let their bellies hang out." She huffed, reminded abruptly that she was actually pretty hungry, a fact nerves and adrenaline had erased. She'd only had a little wine at the ball, and her mother had insisted she not eat so the dress would fit better. It was so ridiculous.

Watching the guards, and seeing that word of their arrival was already spreading, Einin braced herself. This was going to be interesting and unpleasant in equal measures, she had a feeling. "Don't fool yourself. There's going to be a lot of fussing."

Ooc: I hope this post makes sense. I only have my phone to post from right now so bear with me!

------

Einin couldn't have been more right about the fussing, for before the duo would return to the scene of the 'flames'; the entire place was in an uproar of noise. Not only had Jarrett L'isson returned, but he had Figleo's corpse in tow, which had his woman crowing at the realization of his death, and Jarrett cornered for questioning: the primary question being....

"Where is my daughter? Where is she?!"

OOC: Bwahaha! Frickin' Jarrett. He loves making trouble.

The crazed behavior was loud, and quite apparent as they got closer to the mayhem of the collapsed estate house. Even worse than Ryk thought it would be. The internal voice of Canis Rufus, the Red Wolf, chuckled at the sight of these fool nobles and their inability to handle a crisis. Ryk only found it mildly amusing. He was really more troubled. Such an event could cause great waves of fluctuation in the market. He would have to move quickly and decisively in order to make the most profit. Lady Swinden had the lumber market cornered, but he might be able to get in on that action, and he owned most of the trade contracts for the luxury goods that were in fashion now, so he'd make a bundle there.

As the guards noticed who they were and the word spread, the focus started to change and the crowd began to clear as people moved toward them. That was when Ryk noticed that red suit and the limp body on the ground next to him.

"Well that's fantastic," Ryk mumbled at the sight of Jarrett, "there goes the plan of getting you out of your fake engagement." He continued the short trip to the people headed toward them, and he stopped, waiting for the servant that had his vest and coat. It would be nice to be clean.

Jarrett L'isson was actually beginning to sweat now. He was one for casual, (perhaps a bit quirky) escapes, so to be found beneath the scrutinzing looks and yammerings of Einen's parents, it was with some relief he caught sight of Ryk and the girl on their way. It was when his eyes turned to them Einen's mother gasped and rushed over to her, throwing her arms around her child and pulling  her into a tight embrace.

"Oh, Einen! We thought you might have been killed!"

Jarrett's eyes went from Einen's mother over to Ryk as he frowned, his mind still searching for a way to get out of this place. For now, he had to just bide his time and keep up with his role.

Einin's mouth dropped open. "Oh no. Oh noooo," she said, under her breath, as she caught sight of Jarrett, and Ryk's words only cemented her horror.

His "death" had been an easy out, but now that he was alive, when he was supposed to be "dead"? And why? Why would he do that?! Granted, he didn't know that was the plan, did he? But that didn't matter because it sure put a kink in hers!

Fortunately, her slack-jawed horror was interpreted as trauma, and her mother cried and squeezed her tight, not minding how she must have smelled as she tugged her free of Ryk's arms. Woodenly, Owl hugged her back, though soon she was hugging her in earnest, clinging to her in relief, as everything came crashing down on her. Until this point, everything that had happened had felt surreal, but...a man had died, and she could have, too, and she was honestly glad to see her again, to be out of those sewers.

"I'm okay," she finally said, and had to pull back to breathe, her mother was squeezing her so tightly. "Really, I'm fine! Master Ryk, he, uh...he saved us."

Then her father was there, hugging her, too, before turning to Ryk. Einin's mother left her then, but only so she could usher Jarrett over, to see that his fiancee was well.

"I don't know how we can repay you for what you've done," her father told Ryk, relief in every line of his face. "I've never seen anything quite like what you did back there, and...just, if there's anything, name it. Please. At the very least, you deserve a stiff drink on me."

Jarret, still feeling awkward, shifted uncomfortably before his gaze turned towards Ryk. And it was here he actually.. touched the man on the shoulder.
"Just let us know what payment can be done. We are all indebted to you."

Dear bloody gods, Jarrett was laying it on thick! Einin fought hard to keep from groaning and instead buried her face against her father's shoulder. She was grateful that Ryk had pulled them out of that mess, true, but just...why. Jarrett had the perfect out! They had the perfect way to get themselves out of this whole fake engagement mess! Why did he have to ruin that?

And then it got worse.

Her father glanced over at Jarrett then, giving him a measured look, as though weighing his worth. Then, with a sigh, he said, "My daughter must see something in you, to have put herself at risk like that. And I think I see what it is, judging by the way you so selflessly sacrificed your well-being and safety to try to rescue Lord Figleo."

Einin stiffened. Oh no. No no no. She did not like where this was going!

Her father drew a deep breath. "That is a strength of character that doesn't come to many. I think it's safe to say that you have my blessing."

Jarrett only blinked.
And stared and blinked.
Probably.. he was still staring and blinking some more as he peered at Einen's father. His lips twitched before he simply replied, "Ok."

Well... he supposed this lie was definitely weaving itself pretty far. It was like some ungraceful spider's web. Though Jarrett figured it didn't matter. He'd probably never see these people again- and as he turned around, he was slammed by a wall of wallows and screams.

"OH Figleo! Figleo Bakk!"

Jarrett made a face. Women. And he needed to dig some wax out of his ear, too- for they were ringing from their screams. Thank god he wasn't nobility. Their women were too faint of heart...
Except Einen... who he stole a glance towards when he was suddenly dragged off byt he weeping women who were all exclaiming in their griefs and proclaiming what minimal thanks they could. There was so many tears, he swore the air had become salty.

Inside, Einin was fuming.

Not only had this gone the worst way possible--her father approving this madness!--but he had interpreted her act of craziness as...as being madly, blindly in love with the bastard, and not as a demonstrated act of self-sufficiency! She wanted to scream. A man had died before her eyes, murdered in cold blood by the damned murderer, Ryk was the Red Wolf, these peoples' homes had been burned to the ground, and she had been able to do nothing about any of it because she was playing the good noble daughter and couldn't say a thing about any of it. And then the cherry on top? She finally tries to make a move, but Ryk and Jarrett, the true villains, get rewarded instead! For murder! Well, Jarrett's murder.

Gods. Maybe she should just fake a swoon just so she'd be dragged away from this hot mess, because she was reaching the limits of her acting capabilities.

But then, Jarrett was dragged away by the mourners, and Einin lifted her head and watched them go. Her mother laid her hand on her arm to get her attention and then lightly stroked her sooty hair. "Oh, dear heart, look at you. You have to be exhausted after all that. Why don't we get you home so you can bathe and rest? Your father can let Jarrett know so he doesn't worry."

Einin clenched her jaw, caught herself and relaxed her face again, and nodded. "That sounds lovely."

Ryk was exceedingly amused by the entire event. He had done his best to save and salvage as much as possible, but it was simply a whim, not out of moral obligation like the heroes of children's tales'. The chaos continued, as tragedy was a spectator sport, and everyone had to get their eye full. The man he had handed his things arrived and returned them to him. Ryk thanked the man with a gold coin, and quickly donned his shed garments.

"A stiff drink sounds great about now," he replied to Einin's father. He reached into his coat and pulled out a silver flask. He unstoppered it and took a deep swig. Fantastic! Smooth and sweet honey mead, kept cold by the magic decanter. With barely any burn on the way down, a pleasant warmth quickly settled in his stomach. At first he thought to offer it Lord Beirne, but thought better of it, handing the flask to Einin instead.

"Under the circumstances I think you could use this," he turned then to her mother and smiled charmingly to catch her attention. "Your lovely daughter was very brave, and surely could use the rest. I think I can remove the necessity of a bath, though the hot water would probably do for easing tense muscles." He pulled out the trinket he had shown to the young Ava earlier, and gave Einin a little tap with it. The magic had her clean and pressed in a blink, though her dress fringe was still in tatters, and the pins holding her hair no longer in place. He used it on himself again, and was glad to see the shine in his boots return.

"There is nothing quite like feeling fresh and clean," he said with a smile.

Einin grabbed the offered flask and threw it back without bothering to ask what it was. Whatever it was, she needed it, because this night could not possibly get any worse--but a good drink could possibly make it a little easier to bear. The burn was near unnoticeable, and whatever it was, it was good. Smooth, sweet...she stoppered it before she could take another drink (she didn't trust herself under the circumstances not to keep going) and nodded at him in thanks.

"Oh, yes, I think she's had enough excitement to last us all the rest of the year!" Lady Beirne agreed.

Einin huffed inwardly.

When Ryk tapped her with the trinket, rendering her, and her clothes, instantly clean...that improved her mood just a little. Not feeling miserably filthy did wonders for one's mood! Sort of. She felt at her hair and face, examined her dress, and gave a half-hearted, crooked smile at Ryk. "Indeed there's not." The only thing that could have felt any better was to not be actually, accidentally engaged  to Jarrett the corpse-dancer.

Gods, she was going to murder him the moment there weren't so many people around!

But she forced a smile on her face and curtseyed to Ryk. "Thank you, Master Ryk. For all you did tonight. I wouldn't be here if not for you." There. Humility. Look at that, she could do it after all.

Ryk gave Einin a genuine smile and a gentleman's bow. She was a lovely young woman. A bit young for him perhaps, but greater age difference was actually more common among nobles. Considering young Lady Beirne in that way brought thoughts of Lady Swinden to mind. A pang of loneliness and a desire to see her flickered across his face for a fraction of a moment. He smoothed over the moment as if the thought was never there, and offered Lord Beirne a nod and a shake of his hand.

"We'll have to meet for drinks soon Lord Beirne, a quiet evening without any fires or falling roofs."

"Master Handelaar," it was Lady Zaftig calling out to him. He couldn't help frowning. Now was not the time for this nonsense. "Master Handelaar, you're such a hero!" He grimaced openly at that.

"I only did what any good man should do in an emergency." he was not pleased that she was now clutching his arm, pressing her bosom, ample as it was, into him fiercely. "Please release me madam. There is much to see to. I must find if I can be of some use." Ryk shook himself free of the Lady Zaftig, and took his leave of the Beirne's with great charm. He bade them to see him once more before they departed, that they might plan a time to get together. Inserting himself into Einin's life in any way he could would be of great help in keeping an eye on the girl. Perhaps he could become her new sparring partner. She could use with some tutoring in sword play if she was to keep up her night activities. Even if she planned on being a self proclaimed hero, he did not like the idea of her getting gutted in his streets. He'd keep a Shadow on her until he was confident she could survive on her own. No need to tell her that though.

Now he needed to go about being the business man everyone expected him to be and look to the clearing and rebuilding of the manor house. The debts this noble family would owe him for refurnishing the structures could be worth a lot more than the actual furnishings. And if one of the Swinden contracts handled the lumber and construction, as he was sure they would, he might find an excuse to see Lanna. But while he put on his display, it would be of great use to watch Jarrett, and learn more about this man first hand.

---

This thread is complete and splits into two new ones (both private) if you'd like to read. Both Owl/Einin centered, Jarrett goes here (http://www.spiritsoftheearth.net/smf/index.php?topic=16110.0), while Ryk/Rufus goes here (http://www.spiritsoftheearth.net/smf/index.php?topic=16153.0). Enjoy!