[P] o sinnerman;

[Raum]

 

“A wonder indeed.” Raum muses from where he stands upon the edge of the mountain. The drop below and its bed of jagged rocks beckon him down, down, down to a violent end. His eyes, unperturbed by his perilous place upon the mountainside and the devilish push and pull of the wind, gaze out towards Denocte, framed by the sun, Calligo’s shadows banished by the height of day. When would this assassin ever feel those cool shadows of his homeland upon his skin again?
 
With a sigh Crow turns from the mountain’s edge, his gaze becoming hard where only moments before it had been the ragged softness of a wound. “Have any of your tricks gone correctly lately Acton?” Raum asks like silk, the mockery is so subtle upon his tongue that one might almost not feel the barbs beneath it. “Careful, or Denocte may begin to think you an incompetent Magician, as well as a murderous one.” The smile is back, wicked sharp and a steel mask for the rawness of Raum’s homesick heart.
 
His brother’s talk of home, of their Crows, their family is as healing as it is bruising. “Lavinia knows better than to take my knife.” But even as he said it he knows how sly the girl can be. “Just… if she does take it, remind her that I will know when I get it back. I know how many deaths it has seen, no matter how well she may believe she has cleaned it after.” The blade could gleam like a mirror, barred of scars and scratched but its master would still know of any new blood it has shed. It would sing for him as loudly and plainly as a comet falling from the sky.
 
“You hear, you don’t know?” The silver Crow chides quietly. “You are slacking on your spying skills, Acton. Have I been gone that long?” It is a mockery of the Magician, but Raum at least expected him to know not hear whether his King had entangled himself in the affairs of a girl.
 
“It is the Dusk Court’s Emissary.” Raum informs, his eyes as sharp as ice as he takes in the hot glow of Acton’s skin. “I would have preferred a Denoctean. Keep an eye on them. That relationship has the potential to drag us all into shit. I would have been surprised - had I not known it was Reichenbach. He has about as much control over his heart as a rabbit does a fox.” His lips tip into a smile, affectionate, amused, despite the ramifications of his words. Raum had grown up with their King of Thieves, he knew Reich’s nature, he knew the kindness there, the waywardness of his gypsy nature.
 
For all Raum’s mockery, for all his jest, it seems the romance of his king was not the most important information Acton had picked up. The Ghost’s spine falls rigid, his nape arching as the quicksilver Crow falls as still as a statue. He drinks in the warning, blue eyes glittering. “Maxence is wise. He has not spoken any of his concerns to the rest of the Day Court – that I might have heard anyway…” The words are a murmur, deep and dark and as dangerous as a knife from the black. “Maybe I have not kept pace with Torstein enough… He found Rhoswen, Freya, Mila and I here a few months ago… He was suspicious, even then.”
 
There is no space for fear within this Denocte assassin. No shadowed corner that he allows for it to find and fester and grow. He is mercury pouring across the rough mountain shrine as he scans the area. They were still alone.
 
“Bexley.” She was the only girl of gold, with her blue eyes and a necklace about her slender throat. “What do you want with her? She is close to both Maxence and Reich, I know you favour risks, but even I had thought you wiser than that.”


@Acton <3 FUN