Everybody always painted themselves into a classic getaway scene after getting caught in the middle of a heist. Here they are, some half-deranged lunatic grabbing a lady's purse and darting down a busy street full of vendors selling their wares.
She has codes to some off-shore banking ruse.. Or maybe she has diamonds -- blood diamonds?
Maybe it's just money. Either way,
-he needs it (because he wants it), he takes it, and he is off!
Somewhere there is always a chicken defying physics as it flies well out of the way. Flocks of finches and pigeonfolk spray upwards into building awnings like gray spray paint. Fruit stands (why is it always a fruit stand?) get parkored or pushed over - it's always the slippery fruits or the hard round root veggies -and of course a case of sun-ripened watermelons that are practically splitting in their display case.
Hell,
-the guy with the purse clears the hood of an old buick like a spry young thoroughbred jacked on amphetamines and lands on his feet before darting into the large park all springbok style.
He disappears, never to be heard of again.
They always imagine just narrowly escaping death. Somewhere over the overpass, with infinite magazine clips there is a bullet war happening in his wake turning 'just-stuff' into swiss cheese. No one in the way gets hurt, somehow just-stuff explodes. It is always the messy kind of just-stuff too. Really colorful stuff.
Glass shatters - no one gets cut.
Cars crash and spout flames and gasoline but people are crawling out to go discuss collateral repairs over tea - no one ever catches fire here.
Mass hysteria as the bridge is crumbling apart - everyone is still smiling as they laughing run for their lives.
Perfection.
I'm getting too carried away with this.
The thought ends abruptly. Only wishes it was that easy - it is not. He wishes that was his story - it is not. Stephan wishes that Only would stop wishing for things - but he doesn't. Fear leads to worry leads to paranoia leads to, well, fear.
After waiting and waiting and waiting for the sentinels to leave the area where they lost him to heavy brush and thick woods he is finally free to move forward with his unseelie plans. Dawn won't give an inch of their time to a lousy thief like him - especially if he practices his money-grabbing skills on unsuspecting Deluminians (Delumnins? Delimnins? Oh, whatever) - they'd be so offended, he thinks. To have a criminal on their clean streets - a flaw in their otherwise perfect system. Out of respect he abandons Delumine for several days to make his journey down, down-down, down.
Into the madness,
Into the fray - Las Vegas.
It nearly kills him one quarter of the way into the pass yet - like his ancestors - he'll survive.
He sneaks into Night Court as quiet as any of his cockroach ancestors might - silent and black and slick as he travels up-wind of a private gathering. Through slippery rocks he weaves. Through bushes and between trees he goes. The gathering almost looks ceremonial but he cannot be too sure. He contemplates just taking a rock and bashing their heads in but then he remembers (two cuts on the face by the same man is enough, yes)- how bad he was at controlling things in the first place. He was practically beneath Anonymous before he got the daggar to wiggle from his sheath in the first place. The plan is out before he even begins -- self-preservation is key this time.
Keeping that in mind he moves under the shapes and shadows of the night - like a fish through water - if he were not so rotten then perhaps he would get spiritual and ask God if this is where he is meant to be all along - but he is hopeless. He is truly hopeless.
Only is as low as a cockroach, a dirty crumb-rolling cockroach, he hangs his head and focuses his yellow-green eyes on the legs and rumps of the girls - inspects them - only one is carrying something with her - a satchel. He gets so close he'll lose his hiding spot in an instant if the flowers he ate off of Flora this afternoon make him fart. He tries to concentrate as hard as he can on the object hanging off Lavinia's neck. He has been working so hard on sicks and stones - nearly dropping them all - and giving himself broken bones. But today was different - he managed to eek-by just long enough to buy some time between then and now (now meaning, when they eventually find him) so now - now he must be lucky.
And when Only feels Lucky, he tests it - the bag lifts, it lifts and Only is like a wolf sneaking up on Lavinia.
No teeth bared - just a hideous yellow glow of eyes staring up at her from the brush, a scrape of white grinning teeth.
One by one, the stones go. He's taken the fronds off of date trees and woven them together to practice his small gift.
One by one they drop into his pouch.
Lost. Stolen. Someone is shouting. Some one is warning her!
Go. Go!
Only bolts right out from underneath her nose, the smell of thieves oil thick in the air (he always smells of it, odd) and a flash of gold hooves which disappear into the night. The terrain is difficult, he slips and he slides unsteadily on ground he is unfamiliar with. No stars tonight - no moon. But he is not alone - the sound of hooves pound like thunder building in the distance. A storm? Perhaps.
ooc: Feel free to stop him up with any dead ends, traps, or by knocking him off his feet if you need to. You have permission. Sorry this was so long. D:
your heart is a wild thing
made of stardust and thunder and hurricanes
The day had begun like many others; the sun shining over the sky, before melting away and fading into the many colors of late evening, before darkening entirely into the sweet bliss of night. Calligo's shadows were long, softening the edges and creating pools of obsidian in alley ways and along the stone walls of the city. Under the cover of the goddess's onyx gaze, a stormsinger patrolled the capitol city with watchful eyes of brightest blue. She found solace beneath the uncommonly starless night; an ebony shade of smoke, a wraith blessed with a shimmer of cobalt and indigo. With sure steps, she melted from shadow to shadow, quiet and uttering no sound as she took in every detail, every crevice. A protector, and a defender of the King and his people.
The revelry of drums and music pulsed in the night air, thrumming and building like heat in her veins. As she nears the market square, the voices of singers and dancers and party-goers grows louder in her ears. A city of nocturnal lovers of the Night; at home and blessed by Calligo as she smiled down on them all. She is close now, creeping along the edges of the market square, and sticking close to the shadows. The stormsinger is all but invisible to them, a phantom of obsidian save for her blue eyes and the ivory tips of her wings. She watches them all, her gaze fleeting, but not missing a single detail. A group of fire dancers catches her eye; one in particular tugging at a far-off memory in the tendrils of her mind. The girl is young, and delicate, but rather beautiful. Glad in red and gold, much like a little thing she had once followed up to the Peak. The resemblance is uncanny, but tonight is the not the time to think of such things. She is all business; a warrior doing her duty, not a gypsy girl who would join them amongst the flames.
For a reason she could not place, the stormsinger's gaze kept finding the girl again among the crowd. She notes the strange presence of a man near her, but does not think twice when suddenly, the man-that-was-shadow is running.. with the girl's satchel in tow. Someone is shouting, and then the bodies are bustling in unexpected surprise. The stormsinger's eyes widen, and then she bolts from the darkness, anger flooding her in waves of crimson rage.
"Stop, in the name of the Night King!"
Her voice is a screaming hurricane over the music and drums, her blood roaring in her ears as her hooves gallop against the stone market square. She moves with a warrior's honed grace through the crowd, a ghost of shadows and stars, gaze searching for her target. There are too many people, and she is caught in the center of the fray, before she shoots skyward with a great swoosh of her wings. She flies, skimming the crowd with tucked legs before landing in an alleyway behind the thief. He is a dark phantom shot with gold threads, quick on his feet as the stormsinger gives chase.
"Stop!"
They are running, galloping through the city streets. She is merciless; a cyclone of fury, the embodiment of thunder and lightning storms in the midst of summer. With hesitating twists and turns, she begins to notice that maybe the thief does not know the city. Perhaps he is a stranger, a foreigner; to which, in case, she could use that very fact to her advantage. Surging forward with speed, the stormsinger rounds a different corner, breaking off her chase to give the thief a false sense of success. Her hooves thunder against the stones, and then she takes flight, her wings tasting the sweet night air through thick plumes. She sees him then, far below her. On any other night, when the moon's light would have given her away, she would not have been able to pull the feat.
But tonight was not that any other night. She dove, spiraling down and landing in a rush of feathers and violent anger. A lightning bolt striking the ground, her bones groaning at the impact as she cuts the thief's path. Bracing her body for the incoming slam to stop him, a wicked smile playing at her lips. Got you.
@Only @lavinia <3
so it begins hehehe! I left it kinda open-ended but she fully intends to chew him a new one if need be xD "Aislinn speech."
Lavinia was spending her day wandering through the city, she had no jobs per say to take care of so she was meandering about. She carried with her in a satchel of sorts..her most precious knives. She used them when she performed in the streets when she danced and..when she had secret jobs to handle. She smiled a bit as she listened to the music playing all around her, every now and then joining some of the dancers on the streets. Her hooves light and quick she almost looked like she was gliding.
She was all twirling red and gold as she moved among the dancers, laughing lightly. She was completely oblivious to any wrong doings until all of a sudden she felt light around her neck. Looking down she was shocked to notice that her satchel was gone and then..she was angry. Her golden gaze seemed to darken as she looked around for the culprit, finding him running frantically away. "Thief!!" She cried out and started after the poor fool that decided to steal from a crow.
Lavinia was too angry to notice that someone had already begun a pursuit as well. Her pace quickens as she tries to catch up to the two, the culprit and none other than the champion of battle, Aislinn. She slowed her running as she saw the diving form of Aislinn land down ahead of the thief rather than being just behind him moments ago. Lavinia managed to slow herself to a halt before she also slammed into the thief and Aislinn, her sharp gaze glaring at the thief. Breathing hard as her legs shook slightly from such a hard run, "Give..what is mine back and just maybe. Maybe..I won't kill you."
@Only @Aislinn sorry for the wait! <3
"this here is your speech colour!
What kind of pagan country is this? Only wonders wildly to himself as he shoots through the marketplace with all the agility of an experienced purse snatcher in New York City. He is quite athletic too, it helps to clear the largest fires he has to leap through Mission Impossible style just to gather slack between him and the storm that is coming up behind him fast.
What category do you think she is? Stephan coolly wonders in the back of his mind. Only would do better if his conscience just shut his filthy pie hole - just kept his stupid trap shut in a time like this because it would be better for his own focus. While Only tries to think about an exit Stephan continues his ponderings outloud about Aislinn. Category 3? Category 4? She's going to take you apart like a mobile home park on the coastline - you know that right? His doubt rises in him faster than he can run. For a moment he wonders what he is truly trying to outrun. Cops? Horses? Hurricanes?
He doesn't know - so he keeps going. Faster and faster and faster, Aislinn keeps up. He cannot believe that someone else is as fast as he is - that they are just as persistent too. That girl is kind of cute. Get her name for me. Stephan teases in the back of his mind but Only ignores him.
Aislinn is kind of cute though.
He runs as fast as he can until his lungs and legs are burning. Maybe he is tired or maybe it is the heat off of all of the fires he laughingly leaps through (an oddly happy laugh at that) - he bumps shoulders and cuts through the crowds gathered around the largest fire he has seen all night. He makes a spectacle of himself by dashing through it, the animal he is trapped inside squeals with some pain as hot coals singe the bottoms of his golden feet. With one spring he is out but his hooves scream in pain when he lands his foolish attempt with fire. With one glance back he realized that Aislinn is gone, he lost her at last, he dashes painfully into the shadows to reassess his situation which seems to only be growing worse.
He waits in the shadows, golden eyes watching, waiting, wondering if he'll get away with it. The stones rattle against his adrenaline-rich skin. His muscles hum and vibrate under sleek black skin, his heart is an idling engine - his body a getaway car hiding in an alley and waiting for the blue stink to pass him up. A moment passes by and he sees no one, the scene is assessed and a judgment is made. Only steps out into the firelight with caution - his eyes looking out, not up. What he doesn't know is that these are crows that this old cat is playing with. Wiley, methodical, cunning birds that are just as smart and just as dangerous as he is.
That is when he realizes that his assailant has tricked him. Aislinn comes down hard in front of his direct path all feathers and fury (did her hooves just spark against the stone? no - not possible) he distracts himself with her feet, stepping back-back-back to stay away from the threat.
But that is when Lavinia catches him too.
"Oh."
Give what is mine back, and maybe, just maybe I won't kill you.
Where has he heard that before?
Only throws the basket filled stones from his neck, he'd put his hands up if he had them but all he has is his voice - but even then there is something about Aislinn that makes a shrew out of him.
"Night king?" He hears himself say. He smells something here that is vaguely familiar to him, something about Florentine yada-yada-yada, but he cannot be too sure. There is no where else to run or hide, only to fight - but that will come only if his life is at stake. The stallion looks serpentine in the dark, the cuts on his face suggesting that he has recently been in an altercation. Where he comes from, no one will truly know, he has been crouching low in Ruris and covering his Delumine roots well. "Take your stupid rocks. I was just trying to figure out -"
Figure out what? Only cannot put a name to the things that Stephan knows. His mind draws a blank.
"Just take them back. I'm sorry." His will to stay strong crumbles, Only is so weak. Stephan sighs in disappointment somewhere and Only lowers his head looking shameful.
"Kill me." It is more of a challenge than a request, somehow the tone of his voice suggests that he means nothing that he says.
.only si vis pacem para bellum
There shall be weeping and gnashing of teeth.
For many are called but few are chosen.
ooc: THIS SUCKS I AM SO SORRY! I tagged the bosses of Dawn and Night as well as the warrior Only met in Dawn. Aislinn and Lavinia have caught a thief! I'm open for some disciplinary action, prisoner action, Mark of Sin action, just no removal of body parts or death please! Sorry this took me so long.
your heart is a wild thing
made of stardust and thunder and hurricanes
She was broiling anger and earthquakes, hurricanes rumbling in her heart and her gaze flaming brightest blue. Her muscles groaned and her bones cracked as she absorbed the shock of her landing, her feathers bunched and still as she awaited the slam of the thief's body into her own. He would hit a wall of steel and muscle, if she had planned her assault right. Her lungs are burning, blissfully burning, as the stormsinger pants to catch her breath. The oxygen in her blood is boiling, hotter than dragon's breath, and her stance steadies as she prepares for the oncoming onslaught of the thief with their stolen coin.
Aislinn, a tornado of rage and a hurricane of fury, stood with her muscles clenched against her strong bones, like a pillar of stone against a battering sea. Unmoving. Intimidating. But instead of her prey slamming into her body and into her trap, her ears catch the sounds of hooves hurriedly scraping against stone. Not one set, she realizes, but two. Her gaze flickers to her right side, orbs landing on the tell-tale thief with a sly grin playing at her velveteen lips. All of the stars that normally graced their skies like silent watchers, glimmering pearls against the sea of her Goddess' beautiful darkness, were now slumbering. Calligo's obsidian shadows were their only witness, save for the second set of hooves that had pounded against the city's stones — a girl glad in red and gold.
Mila—? No.. A spark of familiarity struck her then; the sharp taste of surprise bright and tangy on her tongue. Another girl of sunbursts and desert sands, much like the devious little thing she had come to know very well, although she had not wanted to. Where Mila was mischievous and wicked and quiet lethalness, this girl — woman, she corrected, albeit young — exuded simmering fire and dusted gold. Between pants of breath, the woman's gaze was unmistakably similar; orbs as sharp as daggers of burnished amber. Up close now, Aislinn could finally see through the long casting shadows of her Goddess' starless night; she was freckled and beautiful, strong and lithe in her frame. Unbearably, painstakingly too similar to the other, lighter half that Aislinn had grown not too fond of.
Calligo forbid, there are two of them. She nearly sighed aloud in disappointment and disbelief, when the darker twin had spoke.
Give..what is mine back and just maybe. Maybe..I won't kill you.
With a sudden burst of brutality and rage, the stormsinger spun on the thief, quick and violent. She pinned him with her shoulder and left wing, creating a cage of pure muscle and feathers, her anger manifesting like a whirling summertide storm. He, a unfamiliar face with a coat the color of depthless obsidian, and a mane the color of topaz, was now forever burned into her memory. He, who had the audacity — or stupidity — to steal from one of the Children of the Night while they were under her watchful gaze. He, who now would stand judgement for his crimes, brought in by her hand and tried by no one other than the King of Stars and Smoke.
Night King?
The look the stranger gives her sends her stomach roiling, and not in the best of ways. She cannot place it; the tinge of something — attraction, disgust, she did not know. Aislinn's eyes only widened and sharpened and honed; spears of blue fire that sought to make her prey cringe. Let him be afraid of the singer of storms, the Champion that protected Calligo's court with an iron fist. His words struck her, and she nearly lost herself in her frustration, her building temper. "Do not pretend that you have willingly stepped into our lands and committed a crime whilst not knowing who sits on the Shadow Throne," she spoke, her voice pointed, hoping to bruise.
She was too close to him to realize that he had thrown the woman's satchel to the ground, immediately throwing his cards to the wayside. His hand played, it seemed. Aislinn nearly smirked, her lip quirking as she heard the clunk and clinking of metal on metal.
Take your stupid rocks. I was just trying to figure out — just take them back. I'm sorry.
A coy, amused grin tugged her soft lips upwards then as she leaned back. Her outstretched left wing still holding him where he stood, Aislinn's gaze flickered between the nameless thief and the woman whom he had stolen from. Her brow quirked as she watched the woman, her defiance over her precious cargo and willingness to catch him in the first place striking a sword of respect in the stormsinger. Thinking of Mila and her poisonous tongue, however, she was not quick to give the golden twin too much leash of trust just yet.
Kill me.
The stormsinger nearly loosed a wicked string of laughter then, but oh no, instead, she narrowed her eyes. Weapons of blue steel, through thick lashes, she bore into him. With a shake of her crown, Aislinn pursed her lips. "I don't think so. You will be brought before the Night King, and he will determine your fate."
As she moved to herd him towards the Keep, she stopped, looking down at the woman of red and gold and eclipsed suns. "You need to come with me as well," she stated, not asking, but demanding; the softest of winds from a dying hurricane.
By Calligo she prayed this girl was not like the other freckled mistress she had once quarreled with on the Peak.
@Only @lavinia <3
here you go babes! please excuse ash as she has a WTF moment xD
@reichenbach @parade @Keira would it be better if this rolled into a new thread for Ash to bring Only to Reich for judgement? I don't mind starting it! "Aislinn speech."
Lav exuded a dangerous calm as she stared at the thief. Her gaze the only thing that showed her clear rage and annoyance in front of the two before her, the thief and a fellow Night Court member. Her ears twitched at the voice of the thief even as he threw her satchel to the ground, her eyes narrowed briefly but she lifted a hoof to place it over the bag by way of protection. What exactly was he playing at? He couldn't possibly be asking for forgiveness after stealing her precious knives?
"Believe me I'd love nothing more than to sink my knives into you, but the Champion is right. The King will decide your fate." She spoke softly but there was a hidden meaning there. Her long tail flicked to the side as she lifted her satchel to drape it over her neck once more. Her golden hooves already moving to follow after the two even before Aislinn spoke to her. With a quick smirk over her lips she inclined her head to her. "As you wish, Champion." Lav replied as she started to follow after the two once again.
@Only @Aislinn And I am good with starting a new thread if we all are!
"this here is your speech colour!
All of his attempts to escape are thwarted - caught here between Aislinn's strong wing and stronger-yet shoulder makes him think of that old saying they always say when the end of the line is certain and this is it.
Ah, what was it again?
Oh right - he figures it out. Suspended between feeling cynical and waves of self-loathing he says -"I'm caught between a rock and a hard spot now aren't I?" - this is his a-ha! moment, he thinks. Only's smarmy glower crawls all over Lavinia who can do nothing but send the sentinel's captive bad energy. Aislinn addresses his wriggle-writhing resistance like a pair of vice grips and the feathers are too much for him. Only shakes free but realizes the burn on his back foot is bad enough to make escape impossible.
Knowing now that he can't run, Only tries to play it cool, a shoulder rolls and he adjusts his faulty pace by tossing his hair and huffing as if he meant to do it all along. "Let me walk on my own - if you want to wrap yourself around me like that you're going to have to give me flowers first." Only's proverbial feathers ruffle as the girls close in on him, he hop-skips ahead but is easily descended upon.
With growling frustration the captured thief falls in step between them and tries to decide what happens next. He tries to imagine what a Night King might look like, is it a god or is it a monster? Delumine apparently has one too - but he hasn't stuck around long enough to meet him. He imagines that Kasil must look like some Disney Princess Dad with a laugh that could coax the sun to rise. He knows this because Stephan's ideas of chivalry come in the form of the backs of cereal boxes and nothing more.
The city impresses him, the music and the fires, even the peoples it houses within well-protected walls attract his attention. The music that fills his ears reminds him of a life he almost forgot about until now. Space, or something like that, he had been attached to a star-pattern that had no name too-too long ago. His heart stammers over a nostalgia only he can feel. It soon disappears when Only catches bad looks left and right from those who witnessed the high-speed chase, who wander and follow behind the guard, the victim, and the criminal just to see what they can see, to know what they can know about it. While he only intended to steal a little metal to hopefully sell it for something he actually needed, he thinks that maybe - just maybe - he underestimated is target and the city that he invaded to get to it.
"How is a King to judge my fate? You do not know me - isn't that awfully harsh to want to kill someone over such a petty crime?" Only fixes the chestnut with a wily golden stare and then Stephan intervenes, rudely. Before Only can stop himself from really deepening the amount of shit he is already in - Stephan invades him long enough to fulfill his lifelong purpose of destroying everything beautiful in Only's life.
"Your freckles are really cute, has anyone ever told you that they glow pink when you're mad?"
