As the sun set, Roshan watched his bonded move throughout the crowd from his hiding place in the shadows, a cocksure grin pulling at the thief’s lips. Bandit trotted cautiously underfoot with his wings pressed close against his sides, the ferret-dragon’s eyes locked on the prize at hand; a pearl necklace hanging halfway out of a shopper’s pouch.
That evening, the streets were far busier than normal. Whether or not that meant anything, Roshan had no idea. He tended to stay out of the political or governmental loop, since all of that shit was bad for business. All he knew was that the influx of people on the street gave him an excuse to help fill his pockets and deliver a few additional goodies to Vendetta. Just one more pretty little trinket and they would be good to go.
Once he was close enough, the oblivious equine in deep conversation with her walking partner, Bandit unfurled his draconic wings and jumped into the air, his tiny body hoisted effortlessly to snatch the pearl necklace out of the satchel. He gave it a tug and the piece of jewelry came free, and just as quickly as he had crept in, Bandit folded his wings and landed upon the sand-packed ground, turned about, and hopped quickly back to Roshan’s hiding place. The ferret-dragon scampered into the shadows at Roshan’s hooves before leaping into the air once more, wings unfolding, and flew up to rest upon the painted stud’s spine.
Bandit made a happy little chirp before securely tucking the pearl necklace away into the satchel that Roshan carried, then settled upon his spine, pleased with himself. Roshan’s grin turned brilliant, white teeth glinting. “Well done, Bandit. I think V will be pretty damn pleased.” Or, as ‘pleased’ as Vendetta could ever express when it came to them. Ducking out of his hiding place, Roshan veered down the alleyway in the opposite direction of the gossiping couple, his pace set at a leisurely sashay. He moved with a remarkable confidence and a pep in his step, head up and eyes forward, grinning mischievously at those that he passed. The borrowed satchel he wore bounced against the golden sun emblazoned upon his chest, effectively hiding it from view.
These were his streets. This was his domain. These people that pilfered about were only pawns in his larger game, they just had no way of knowing. Crawling up the thief’s thick, braided mane, Bandit splayed out atop Roshan’s head, watching the people of Solterra pass them by.
’Just a little while longer, Bandit.’ Until what, he wasn’t sure, but Roshan could feel something in his veins.
She had heard the whispers of something happening, something big and evil. She didn’t know many of the details, but there was something that called to her. Something drew her towards the Day Court, for reasons she was unsure of why. But regardless of the reason, she was here now and her journey would begin shortly.
Eyes wandered the streets, studying those that called this place home. It was an ordinary appearing kingdom, but she could sense that there was chaos and anarchy on the brim. It was like this place was tense, it’s muscles tight and ready to flee or fight. All this place needed was a little push for it to tumble over the edge of chaos. One little push and this place would come crumbling down. Yes, she had picked a good place to start.
She turned down an alleyway, knowingly coming head-first towards the pair. Ear flicked lightly, hearing the footsteps along the cobblestone walkway. And when she can see the two of them, she sidesteps so they might pass her. She was on a recon mission, now was not the time to engage.
And yet, as she comes up to them, eyes scan the think that was on the stallion’s back. What the fuck is that thing? A rat? Jesus that’s disgusting. She pulled her neck back as she looked at it, confused at why it looked like a large rat with wings. What sort of place did she stumble onto?
Encountering others on the streets of the Solterra capitol was nothing new. Roshan was used to it. It was how he made his living, after all, passing by the ignorant or unaware and using his quick sleight of hand to snatch things right from their pockets. That cocksure grin remained upon the painted stallion’s maw, twisting his lips up in an amused and superior sort of smirk. Mahogany eyes roamed every individual they passed, noting them for goods, pockets, or scanning for rank of importance.
It wasn’t long until he spotted someone that he had not crossed paths with before, and he had a pretty damn good memory. It was her fact that caught him off guard; adorned in crude make-up, black rings and green diamonds surrounding pools of piercing blue. The maw was what got him, though; red paint as though Vendetta had used one of her fancy little daggers to slice this overo woman from ear to ear. Oh, he’d remember a face like that, and this was definitely not one that belonged on Solterra’s streets. What the fuck was she? A clown? Huh. He didn’t remember Denocte sending the circus to town.
Honestly, Roshan completely intended to waltz right past the clown. His eyes were forward, ears erect, posture loose and leisurely as he swayed down the alley. She wasn’t worth his time. She stepped to the side, and he intended to pass, but it was her sudden and completely unnecessary insult that caused him to halt in his tracks. He paused, turning his head only slightly to regard her through piercing mahogany eyes, but that arrogant grin did not falter from his lips. Oh, no. If anything, it only grew with a promise of poison, and his mind whipped up an insult in turn, reticent and acidic on his tongue.
“You’re one to talk with a face like that. Did you have an accident with a knife?” Cold, cruel, and dangerous was not a tone that Roshan typically carried, but this bitch of a clown had insulted his best friend. Upon his poll, Bandit watched on, feeling his bond-mate’s growing ire. The ferret-dragon’s wings slid back, ears flattening, and his tail began to flick back and forth upon the back of Roshan’s head like an agitated cat. “I didn’t know the circus was in town.”
And then, at the end because he couldn’t resist, he snapped out; “… And who the fuck is Jesus?”
Targwyn had been nicely (nicely by her standards) what was perched on this fellow’s back. She had expected a simple answer. If given a simple answer, she might have scoffed and simply walked on. And yet, he did not choose to give her a simple answer. Instead, he chose to insult her in response, which was never a good thing.
She moved into the center of the alleyway, halting and successfully blocking his path. If he wanted to move past her, he’d either have to turn around and walk away, or walk right through her. He better choose wisely because Targwyn was not opposed to scarring up someone because they dared to get too close.
As he spoke, she felt her own ears flatten against her skull, her tail flick in obvious agitation. Eyes, however, rested on the little piece of sewage that rested on the pole of the other. An accident with a knife would have been far more glorious. However, at least I am not sewage vermin. Her words were practically spat at the other, exciting a response from the two of them. She craved anger and chaos and she wanted them to retaliate. She wanted them to act on the anger that she could see boiling up between the two of them. Yes. Come now, release that anger.
Ignoring the comment about the circus (because she’d been in several - mostly just to fuck around with people. She enjoyed being a member of the freak show), she instead kept her eyes on the pair. But it was when he asked who Jesus was that she couldn’t help the way her lips curled into a sickening grin. You’re worst enemy who haunts your nightmares. Yes, Jesus haunted nightmares and he would haunt there’s too if they weren’t careful.
And just like that, because she could, her posture relaxed. While she still blocked their path through the alleyway, she appeared more relaxed. Ears stood erect, muscles less tense, and that grin still plastered on her lips. I was quite serious when I asked what the fuck that thing is. She would ask him one more time to explain the rat that perched atop his head.
Roshan simply watched her, his own cocksure, arrogant grin remaining. An ear flicked forward, not letting his anger get the best of him. It was obvious by the sick, twisted expression that pulled upon her lips - her real lips, mind you, not the macabre facsimile of a wretched smile - that emotion sung through her veins, but he truly did not care. She wanted him angry, and he would give her no satisfaction. She wasn’t worth his time.
The clown stood in his way as though that would honestly deter him. He almost laughed. What a fucking idiot.
The woman spouted some nonsense about whoever the fuck Jesus was as though that should have meant something. Roshan only arched a brow. Vendetta was forever the yardstick he would measure fear against, and this clown with her childlike face paint did not even come close. Maybe the next time he saw the black market’s ruby rose he would mention this bitch… Surely Vendetta would get a kick in giving this clown a real joker’s grin.
“I’m sorry your drug trips give you scary nightmares,” Roshan stated rather conversationally, keeping that grin, the taut pull of lips in an amused, hubristic smirk. Mahogany eyes glittered in the dim light of the alleyway, his expression positively wicked, “But I really don’t have time for you. Nor are you worth it. Ta.”
Taking a step back if only to give himself the space, Roshan took a momentary glance above where they stood. Mottled, spotted wings spread wide, and with a mighty shove the painted stallion launched himself off the sand-packed earth and into the air. There wasn’t a lot of room for maneuverability, but he was an experienced flyer and didn’t doubt his ability. Flying was a lot like thieving; it came naturally to him. Up and over the clown’s head did he soar, and with a flick of the tail did he land upon the ground on the opposite side of her, hooves once more meeting packed sand and earth.
Twisting his neck, he glanced over his shoulder and just laughed. “You could have said ‘please’.” And with that, he continued down his original path, continuing on as if she had never blocked his route in the first place.
Targwyn was quickly beginning to realize that this piece of shit only wished to make fun of her. She had simply asked him a question (as nicely as she could manage) and he was not at all interested in giving her the answer. Instead, he would much rather make fun of her face (a sore spot that she refused to allow him to push). She had been born this way and it had not bowed well in her previous herd - it was the root of all her problems. Perhaps Targwyn would have been a completely different individual had she been showered with love as a child rather than scorn.
She stood there, continuing to wait for the answer to her question, not allowing his words to anger her or cause her to react. She was pretty good about keeping her emotions in check and she knew well enough that nothing good could come from speaking to him. Already she could hear others beginning to work down the stone streets, coming closer to the very alleyway that they walked down.
Eyes turned back to him as he tried to show off. She watched his wings outspread and take him up and over her. For s split second, she contemplated just how much she could reach up and bite his skin while he dared fly over her. But instead, she did nothing but stand there, not even flicking her ears to follow the sound as he landed.
At his words, she turned her head to face him. Please. It was a word that was not in her vocabulary. Targwyn had not been raised to practice manners and probably would never learn them in her lifetime. Asking for things instead of demanding them was a sign of weakness, a weakness that Targwyn would never have.
Deciding to ignore the pair, she turned back in the direction that she was originally walking. She sighed softly before she continued forward, content to let them go on their merry little way. Surely there was something a little more important that she could fuck around with. However, as she came towards the end of the alleyway, a hoard of individuals filed through, blocking her route out.
Grumbling obscenities beneath her breath, she turned back and headed towards the pair once more. She would find a different route, even if that meant she had to run this asshole over. She picked up her pace, quickly closing the distance between herself and the other. Crowds were not her favorite thing so she was quite eager to get out of this alleyway. Out of the way. She gave him ample time to hear her words and follow her instructions before she would ultimately shove her way past him and his little sewer rat friend.
Maybe he was confident enough to figure that he was done with her, but he wasn’t that lucky. It was the sound of her voice that caused him to glance back, sharp mahogany eyes flicking over his shoulder to see the spotted woman shoving her way through the alley ahead of a rather large group of individuals. Roshan arched a brow, unimpressed, and quite frankly beyond done with her.
It wasn’t hard to be decent. It cost this clown nothing. There was no reason she had to use such crass language when regarding Bandit, and honestly? Roshan wouldn’t stand for it. If it was him? Sure. He would have laughed it off and probably wholeheartedly agreed. The thief had been called a lot of nasty, crude names during his time on the streets. By now it was all second nature, and each insult only fueled his desire to succeed where they thought he would fail.
Bandit, though? The ferret-dragon was innocent and he knew that he wasn’t common. The salesman in the black market had called him a ’freak of nature’, and something that ’didn’t belong’. Roshan knew what that was like, yet the sable amalgamation didn’t deserve such unfair treatment. Like now, from the clown. Perhaps that was why Roshan had acted the way he did. Bandit was family, and he protected what family he had left.
Rolling his eyes, the painted stallion continued along his desired path, not even bothering to change his pace. The narrow alleyway branched out in only a few paces, a path heading straight that was intersected by another path veering off to the left. Roshan eyed it and then flicked a braid back at the grullo woman, not really giving a shit if she advanced upon him or not. Her larger size did not intimidate him. The street-rat had taken on far worse in his time in back alley brawls.
Once close enough, Roshan slipped into the alleyway that veered to the left. “Don’t get lost,” he called back over his shoulder in a sing-song short of way, not giving a shit if she followed him or not down this new path, “Your ‘tourist’ is showing. Would hate for someone to mug you on the streets.” Although it would be terribly ironic if it was him. Once more, he laughed, a soft sort of chuckle meant only for Bandit and himself.
Bandit only sighed, glancing back with a thoughtful look. The ferret-dragon really hoped that the woman didn’t follow. He didn’t much care for her, either.
Targwyn had never been nice to anyone and had no intention of starting now. The way the woman was raised left little to be desired. Her past was not unlike most, grieving those lost and left for dead. Although many would ultimately die of exposure and lack of no-how, Targwyn had somehow defied the odds. And because she had no one to teach her right from wrong, she learned what the streets had taught her. It hadn’t been a pretty lesson, but it was all she knew. While it might be noble to think the mare could change, realistically, she was too far gone to really make any sort of change, not that she wanted to anyway.
Just as she was coming up upon the pair, intend to shove her way past them if they chose not to move, the stallion and his little sewer rat veered off to the left. At least she wouldn’t have to look at that ugly looking creature any longer than she absolutely had to. However, it was his words that caused her brow to raise. Tourist. Ha! “Tourists are only here for a brief moment before they leave…” She paused as she continued on the pathway, raising her voice to he could hear it echo down his own path. “…you won’t be so lucky. I rather like it here.” Did she really like it here? Not particularly. Then again, she had yet to find a place that just really called out to her. But Solterra would be good enough for now. After all, this place was filled with drama and anarchy was just on the horizon. That was exactly where she wanted to be.
As she continued along the pathway, her pace slowed to somewhere more of a leisurely pace back in the direction she had come from at the start of this unfortunate meeting. She would simply have to find another way around. And if her appearance wasn’t creepy enough, Targwyn began to sing a song of horror and decay. Her voice, ironically, was sweet and would attract the innocent to come play the games she had in store for them. She had so many games…she only needed the players.
