The Dark Prince (Closed)

[Atrophia Sanguinis]

For Celemyvel and PeanutLemur

There lies a kingdom of trade to the north amongst forest and mountain. The late King had ruled with a prosperous hand, his kingdom flourishing well under his gaze. But he was killed, an assassination through poison in his food. The most likely suspect: his eldest son, the Crown Prince or more commonly known to the court and outside world as the Dark Prince. This elusive figure of the court is suspicious enough with his dark and detatched demeanor and the court, worried about how he'll rule and fearful of his cunning silence, have quickly supplied logical 'evidence' of his crime and have demanded blood.


But the Dark Prince's younger brother, now King, has spared his brother mercifully by banishing him from the capital and the immediate villages surrounding it.


And thus starts the tale of this shadowy figure and a companion that will change the course of his life forever.

 

[PeanutLemur]

There were times in Nadette’s life when she questioned her sanity. Though a bit more frequent than she would ever willingly admit, such instances gave her ample time to reflect on just how human she truly was. After all, there weren’t many people who would willingly bolt down the swarming streets of Canbritton’s main square in hot pursuit of some degenerate who thought that harassing the general public was a smart idea. There were even less who would attempt such a feat in the middle of the afternoon when the crowds were at their fullest. Then again, Nadette had never claimed to be entirely sane, nor had she portrayed herself to be an average citizen. As a member of the Town Guard it was her job to hunt down such miscreants, even if it meant she had to dodge merchant carts and unsuspecting pedestrians to do so.


Not that she particularly minded of course – she had signed up for the job after all.


With a hasty apology in the direction of some unfortunate man who she had very nearly trampled in her mad chase, the blonde haired guard let loose a string of curses under her breath as she swerved past the multitude of bodies seemingly intent on blocking her path. It seemed that for every person she dodged two more took his or her place. It was maddening, and some part of the woman had to wonder if the people around her were blind. After all, one would think that they would have the decency to move out of the way of a guard – marked notably by the gray-black cloak with the silver emblem covering her small frame – so seemingly deadest on making her way through the streets. Sadly, Nadette had long since learned that people had the tendency to put their own agendas before anyone else’s – even those dedicated to ensuring their protection. It was sad really; a factor that made her job all the more difficult. Add to that the fact that the man she was chasing appeared to be losing her in the mass of flesh and it was no surprise that the woman was starting to lose her patience. She would have to act, and fast, if she wanted to catch her target. Luckily she knew these streets like the back of her hand – finding a way to catch up with him wouldn’t be very difficult if she timed everything correctly.


Catching a glimpse of a stack of wooden crates out of the corners of her eyes, Nadette let a slow smirk crawl across her lips. Luck, it would appear, was on her side today after all. Pivoting on her heel and throwing her body to the left, the blonde wasted little time in pulling herself from the crowd, a few startled exclamations erupting in her wake. She wasted no time on apologies however, her legs pulling her towards her destination without hesitation. Given the direction the man had been running coupled with the fact that there were no alleys branching off of this section of the street, Nadette had no doubt in her mind that any sneaky maneuvers on his part would end in disaster. He had nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. In this game of chase he was the rat and she was the cat; there was no way he would find his way out of this maze before she descended upon him in a flurry of righteous retribution. She wouldn’t let him.


With a leap that had her landing on the balls of her feet atop one of the crates, the blonde thrust herself upwards until she was scaling the precarious stack with barely enough time to catch her balance on each of the wooden structures. The merchant, who had watched her with wide eyes as she charged towards him, let out an undignified squawk at her actions. His arms flailed at his sides as he stared up at her, a few curious heads turning in his direction to see just what was going on. Though questioning murmurs had already begin racing through the crowd, it was when she reached the top of the stack that the startled yells began. Nadette paid them no mind however, too focused on her task to pay much attention to what was happening below her. With her muscles locked in preparation for the final push that would send her vaulting into the air, the blonde kicked off with all of her might. Luckily the merchant’s wares didn’t collapse under the force of her leap, though the crowd was admittedly too enraptured watching her form – cloak fluttering out behind her like a pair of wings as it was – to pay that little fact much heed.


Her cloak fluttered around her as she landed, blonde hair falling around her face in a cascade of shimmering gold. Her knees were bent to absorb the force of her impact, her lips pulled back in a grin that was nothing if not predatory. The man whom she had been chasing stood frozen, much like the rest of the crowd, a few paces away from her. His eyes, dark like the night sky, were so wide that they were almost swallowed whole by the whites around their edges. Even his face had gone strangely pale, the realization of just who – or more like what – was chasing him finally dawning upon him. Some part of her took pleasure in the shocked state she had put him into, this brown haired miscreant that she had spent the better part of the last hour chasing like a fool. If she had known this little stunt of hers would have worked she would have done it earlier. But alas, what was done was done – there was nothing that she could do about it now.


Standing to cross her arms over her chest, the blonde haired woman tilted her head to stare down the subtly shaking man, an eyebrow arching ever so slightly on her face. “Well,” she prompted at length, “are you ready to turn yourself in now?”


He said nothing, just flitted his eyes around his surroundings like a cornered animal. Nadette instantly froze. “Don’t even –” But the man had already taken off. With a curse she wasted no time in continuing after him, glad that this time the crowd parted to let her through. ‘Criminals these days, why do they always have to be such a pain?’ It was a question she suspected she would never get an answer to.

 

[Atrophia Sanguinis]

There were days when one questioned their luck right? They would muse about how much good they could keep up or how much bad they would have to suffer through. Kyrell was seriously contemplating he was cursed with bad luck as he with half of his face implanted into the dirt path, watching his thief run off with his supplies and coin purse, disappearing into the crowd who absorbed his assailant as if in welcoming arms. Getting up off of the ground and standing to his full height, he searched the heads of mass of people moving along the trade street. Nothing caught his eye and a scowl crawled onto his face.


The day had started so pleasantly as well, waking in a wagon of hay, being prodded by a farmer with is pitchfork and threatened to get his respective behind out of his wagon or he'd have hell to pay for it. Then, if one added the courier that held a message from his younger brother, the new King, that asked not so subtly how he enjoyed living amongst filth and having his birth right taken from him, the day seemed to go in a fairer route as he promptly tore the letter to pieces and left it on the side of the road.


Kyrell, the former Crown Prince, or as others preferred to label, the former Dark Prince, had been banished from his home and the immediate capital and some farm land surrounding it. What for? For murdering his father, the King. The thing was that Kyrell hadn't killed the aging man, suspicions were immediately placed on him because of his social conduct and tendency to stray to the shadows and appear intimidating. So of course he was booted out by those that feared him, replaced by his beloved half sibling who shined like gold to his dull iron. But Kyrell couldn't complain too much. The fool now adorned with a crown had spared his head from the executioner's block in an act of 'brotherly mercy', exiling his older brother. So the dark haired man couldn't complain too much, still alive and breathing as he was.


People began to eye him warily, this dark and tall figure with a threatening look on his face. Not to mention this was a smaller village than the capital so his was an unfamiliar presence, even though this was a trade town. Kyrell then lowered his dark haired head, pulling his scarf further up to his chin, his eyes challenging pausing passersby to act on their suspicion. Luckily, they all looked quickly away, curiosity shoved from their minds about this strange figure as he blended back into the crowd, dusting the dirt from his coat.


He continued on his way where a throng of people started to clear and thought it best to cross the busy street here and get to a tavern or inn and look for some work on the other side of the trade town. The cloaked prince would have if a man hadn't crashed into him, sending them both sprawling on the ground, curses floating after them. Anger surfacing and quite done with having such a crappy day, Kyrell pushed the man off of him and stood in a swirl of his cloak, one of his swords now unsheathed and pricking the man's neck.


"Hasn't anyone told you to look before crossing?" His voice was like a velvet death threat, his annoyance clear in his tone.


A flash of gold caught his view from the corner of his eye and he turned his head to see a blonde woman gaining ground on them quickly. Glimpsing her cloak fluttering behind her, Kyrell paled and his lips pursed. He quickly sheathed his sword, kicking dust in the man's face to keep him on the ground as the guard approached, falling back to the front edge of the crowd, hoping to draw less attention from her as he didn't need to be detained, still within the boundary lines that he was supposed to have left days ago. Silently cursing himself for being stubborn and trying to stick it out under his brother's nose, he held his breath and watched the woman warily, unsure if she would act if she recognized him.

 

[PeanutLemur]

To say that Nadette was annoyed would have been a grievous understatement. The blonde was beyond furious, so much so that the crowds shifted around her more out of fear of the thunderous expression on her face than any semblance of respect for her person. In any other situation she would have laughed at the mere thought of anyone being terrified of all five foot, five inches of her petite self, but this wasn’t any other situation. Oh no, she had been chasing this slimy bastard around the city like a fool for the better part of the morning and needless to say she wasn’t pleased. She wasn’t pleased at all; the sooner she could plant her foot in the dunce’s face the better. The mental image of the painful retribution to come alone was enough to put a giddy smile on her face – a smile that had shudders of unease creeping down the spines of many passerby.


She wasn’t usually a sadistic person by nature, but there was just something about this man that grated on her nerves the wrong way. Call her crazy, but she was greatly looking forward to dragging him back to the main headquarters. After all, just because she didn’t handle interrogations or deal with people once they were behind bars didn’t mean that she couldn’t have some fun bringing them in. If anything, it was a good way to relieve some stress.


Luckily it would seem that karma had finally caught up to her escape-artist of a criminal. Having unceremoniously run into a pedestrian on the street, the dark haired male was reduced to nothing more than a pile of sprawled out limbs on the road. The elation that came with her observation was short-lived however. The man who had been trampled by her ‘rat’ seemed less than pleased with the sudden turn of events if the sword he pointed at the man’s neck was of any indication – a sword that should have remained in its sheath if he hadn’t wanted to draw her attention like a moth to a flame. Narrowing her eyes and picking up her pace, Nadette cursed under her breath.


Honestly, people these days.


Giving the man, who at that point had shakily made his way to his feet, no time to react and start running again, the blonde grabbed onto the collar of his shirt in a vice grip. He had little time to voice any complaint before her foot was connecting with the backs of his ankles, effectively putting him off balance and allowing her to slam him face-first into the ground. She dug her knee into the center of his back to keep him still, the majority of her weight shifting forward as she pulled a length of rope from a pouch at her hip to bind his arms together. Remembering the male from earlier, she shot her head up to pierce her grey-blue eyes into the crowd that had gathered around the scene.


Thankfully he hadn’t tried to run off like the man beneath her, a fact Nadette was instantly grateful for. Though he hadn’t technically done anything that she could charge him for, the fact that he had drawn out a weapon in public was enough reason for her to take him in for questioning. If he was willing to threaten this man for running into him with a blade directed at his neck there was no telling what he was capable of. Narrowing her eyes and giving a hard tug on the rope tying her captive’s arms together for good measure, Nadette pointed a finger at his face. “Don’t move,” she snapped, voice hard and brooking no room for argument. “I just chased his buffoon halfway across town and I’m really not in the mood to continue the trend with you. If you come along quietly I assure you I won’t parade you through the streets like some trussed up turkey.” She had no idea who this man was - though he seemed strangely familiar to her -, let alone if he would take her for her word, but some part of the blonde desperately hoped that he would. She wasn’t kidding when she said that she didn’t want to have to continue her impromptu marathon.

 

[Atrophia Sanguinis]

Kyrell was seriously thinking of running off. This woman was far more heated than he expected and she had singled him out instantly after a little show of tackling the man that had not so long ago tackled him, although unintended on the man's part. Her skill and strength was displayed in how she handled the situation. He found himself leaning away from her when her eyes pinned his.


"Don't move." Her tone was final, commanding. “I just chased his buffoon halfway across town and I’m really not in the mood to continue the trend with you. If you come along quietly I assure you I won’t parade you through the streets like some trussed up turkey.”


That had him pursing his lips together in deep thought. He began to weigh the pros and cons of running away from this she-devil. Pros: she'd been running for a while already and Kyrell didn't have his supplies weighing him down, giving a chance of escape. Cons: he didn't know this town unlike the guard, the border he had to have crossed was miles from it, and if he was caught running, they'd surely ship him back to his brother's throne steps, wrapped nicely up in a bow around his neck like a hangman's noose.


But he wasn't entirely sure what would happen if went with her quietly. His sketch would have surely reached this far from the capital by now, warning guards to detain him immediately or even perhaps kill him if it was necessary. And if he thought logically, his veins were already flowing with adrenaline as he was now in flight or fight mode. Kyrell didn't think it wise to tango with an enraged guard in the middle of the town, surrounded by a crowd who would most likely support her, especially if his identity was revealed.


Eyeing her, he licked his dry lips as he came to a conclusion in his musings. Kyrell wasn't interested in willingly letting his day become worst. Perhaps he shouldn't go about this dramatically, but he felt the need to leave his audience an impression of this dark stranger before he made his escape.


He bowed, lower than he should have for her respective position, adding unspoken sarcasm in his actions. But his eyes did not glitter with mischief as he raised himself back up, looking her steadily in the eye. They were full of the will to live and to escape this situation.


Kyrell had been thinking of something cunning, witty even, to say to this woman like a thief would mock the local law enforcement. But he decided to save his breath. "No." He said simply, resisting a small smile of amusement, subtly daring her to try and catch him. He turned quickly on his heel and dove into the crowd, shoving spectators down and those that dared apprehend him off of him. He jumped and grasped the edge of a low tavern roof and hauled himself up, climbing and running along the rooftops, giving him the advantage of seeing the town limits, where the treeline of a forest lay further back.


He dared not look behind him, not wanting to slow his momentum or be disheartened if the maiden warrior was on his heals.

 

[PeanutLemur]

Her mother had always warned her about keeping her mouth open, stating something along the lines of how utterly improper it was. Her father, on the other hand, would merely shake his head and warn her about “catching flies”. Truth be told, Nadette didn’t care for either of her parent’s words of wisdom at the current moment, far too flabbergasted as she was with the sudden turn of events. Could no one follow a simple set of instructions these days? Given by the male’s departure, she was leaning towards the simple answer of “no”.


Jumping off of the man beneath her knee and dragging him upwards with her, Nadette tossed the unfortunate lad towards an unsuspecting shop owner with a barked order of “watch him”. The startled man could only nod his head dumbly as he watched the blonde dash in the direction the dark haired male had disappeared in but minutes before. He slowly turned to regard the dazed criminal by his feet, the brown haired male apparently having lost his will to fight – let alone run – the moment he’d been bested by the female guard. Given the nature of the male ego it came as no real surprise to the elder shop keeper, and though he was still coming to terms with the situation he was suddenly finding thrust upon him, he couldn’t stop the chuckle from leaving his lips. “A real spitfire, that one.”


The apprehended criminal only grunted.


Slipping onto the roof in the wake of her newfound target and trying her best to ignore the slight lag in her movements – it would seem that her run from earlier was starting to catch up to her –, Nadette closed her eyes to draw in a deep breath before slowly exhaling and reopening them. She knew this town like the back of her hand, had grown up running around its streets and purposefully getting lost if only to discover new ways to get around the crowds; there was no way she was going to let some miscreant escape her. Not in her domain.


Luckily the rooftops offered little in terms of cover, finding a suspicious looking figure bounding over the tiled surfaces was hardly difficult. Smoothing out her cloak and feeling for the chakram at her back, Nadette wasted no time in shooting off after him. Truth be told, it wasn’t the fact that he had decided to run that annoyed her. She was used to that general course of action by now, had dealt with it far too many times than she could bother to count. What aggravated her was the fact that he hadn’t truly been in trouble in the first place. A few questions, that was all she was asking for – heck, she would have handled them herself had he decided to heed her command.


Oh, but he just had to go and play the rebel didn’t he? As if running alone wasn’t enough to raise read flags, now he was just purposefully evading the law. And that was not something she could condone. He hadn’t been in trouble before, but he would be now. For forcing her to chase after him like that the man had best hope that karma was on his side.


Nonetheless, no matter how peeved she was with the turn of events, Nadette would resort to using her weapons only when there was no other option left open to her. It wasn’t because he was armed, though that certainly played a part in her decision, but rather that the blonde only believed in using weapons, to falling to that sort of violence, only when she was damn well forced to. At the rate things were going, however? It was starting to seem highly likely that the chakram would be flying. Sure she was fast, one of the fastest on the guard to be exact, but she had been running for nearly an hour and her stamina was just about shot. This man already had a head start on her – it was entirely unlikely that she would manage to catch up with him without throwing him off pace first. It was unfortunate, but Nadette wasn’t one to let prospective criminals get away from her and run loose in her home.


Grasping one of the metal disks in her hand, the blonde figured she would give the man one last chance. Sucking in a breath, she did the only thing that was left to her: she yelled. “I’m telling you to stop now! I don’t want to get violent, but so help me if you don’t stop right now I will!” She wasn’t sure if he heard her, let alone if he even bothered to reply, but Nadette’s already thinning patience chose that moment to snap. Feeling the all-too-familiar twitch in her jaw, the blonde pulled her chakram from its confines behind her back.


The silver bladed weapon gleamed in the light as she shifted it in her hand, deftly slipping it around her wrist like some kind of morbid bracelet. She would have to be exceedingly careful in how – in where – she threw the weapon. It would do her no good to hit any innocent bystanders because she screwed up. Luckily the man seemed to be heading away from the crowds and out towards the forest outcropping on the edge of the town. If he made it there it would be unlikely that she would ever find him. The forest was too vast and given her tiring state the battle would be lost before it was even begun. That was simply not something that she could afford.


Climbing up to a higher perch on one of the buildings in her immediate area, Nadette crouched down to stare after the male’s figure. The arm on which her chakram rested raised until her hand, and the weapon now swinging on her index finger, were nearly level with her head. She shallowed her breathing, carefully tracking the man’s movements with her eyes, and let the disk fly. Whether or not it hit its mark, Nadette wasn’t about to sit still and hope. Jumping down to continue the chase, she fingered the remaining chakram on her back. It was rare that she every had to use one, let alone both, of these weapons; she sincerely hoped that this didn’t turn out to be one of those instances.

 

[Atrophia Sanguinis]

Stamina was not on a Prince's strength list. Sure, Kyrell could handle a battle for a while, but running? Never his strong suit. Neither was climbing and he was now currently doing both as he ran away from the law, or more specifically, a more able guard he could conclude. But his agility helped with placing quick feet on high sloped roofs, sprinting up them with burning legs and lungs.


He became aware of a voice, feminine, barking after him. The specific words he couldn't make over his labored breathing, though he highly doubted she was shouting encouragement for him to keep running. She was probably demanding him to stop. As if. It was too late now. His running away should've entailed as suspicious behavior. She probably thought he was some sort of delinquent or if he was lucky, perhaps a well known assassin with a high bounty. He spared himself a glance over his shoulder as he hopped over a roof. At least he had a bit of a head start. Then she stopped and started climbing a higher building.


Confused but not willing to risk his freedom for curiosity, Kyrell kept on going across the roofs, hopping across the gaps and rolling down the other sides when he had too much momentum. A strange sound and feeling went down his neck and he turned in time to see a weapon, more specifically a chakram, flying right at him. He stopped moving and watched it appear embedded in a wall right next to him. Well, things had certainly escalated. Kyrell let out a low whistle and weak chuckle, a bit shocked his head was still on his shoulders. But then he looked at his arm, blood drenching the dark sleeve of his coat. Then the sharp pain of being sliced by a blade shot through his body and he grunted, grasping his injured arm.


He looked back up, searching for where she was perched and decided roof tops were too open. He looked at the buildings and gaps that were streets that were left until he'd be outside the gates and into the forest past a small clearing. Imprinting the image in his mind, he abandoned the quicker yet more dangerous route to the route slower but was less likely to have his arm chopped off.


Citizens jumped back in fright as he landed heavily on the ground, barely able to roll to his feet with one arm basically useless in his pain. Then people began to shriek as they saw the blood dripping from his fingertips and seep between the gaps of the hands grasping his injury. He shouldered past people, occasionally leaving a blood stain on their clothing if they were too close.


His fingers delicately prodded the cut and he found it wasn't too serious, it just hurt like hell. But he would have to get the bleeding stopped. Sighing, he took some turns off of his main path onto darker roads, where people questioned his appearance less. Kyrell then turned into an alleyway and followed its twists to a dead end. Cursing at his foolishness, he hurriedly ripped his blood soaked coat sleeve off and threw it too the ground. He tugged at the tail of his loose shirt and ripped a strip from the thinner cloth for a makeshift bandage. He rapidly tied it tightly around the cut, preventing more blood from leaving his body and tightened a knot to secure it place. Hearing a set of footsteps behind him, he unsheathed both of his swords from his hips despite his injury and whirled around.

 

[PeanutLemur]

Grunting at the pain that shot up her legs from her abrupt landing, an act that sent the already startled pedestrians in the area into even more of a frenzy, Nadette carefully straightened her posture to scan the street around her. Gauging from the sheen of blood coating her chakram - she would go back for it later when she wasn't busy chasing wayward males around the town - and the crimson splatters dotting the rooftops, her little stunt had served its purpose. A skilled tracker by no means, the blonde would have been doomed the moment her target dropped into the streets had it not been for his injury. At the very least she was confident enough in following fresh blood tracks through the all-too-familiar twists and turns of her home.


He may have had the advantage on the rooftops, but here on the ground she was truly in her domain. She only hoped that he didn't manage to find some hole to hide himself in while she followed after him. Talk about embarrassing; she would willingly bash her head into the nearest wall if she ended up running past him and never being the wiser.


Catching sight of what appeared to be splatters of dark water coating the ground to her left, the blonde pivoted on her heel and stalked off in the direction they led. Now that she had a semblance of a trail to follow she would conserve her energy; there was no use in running when it was likely that she would need that energy in the future to come. It was a good thing too - she was starting to get a bit winded. Thankfully her training had entailed plenty of stamina-inducing exercises; she probably wouldn't have made it this far if it were otherwise.


Though the trail of blood progressively spread out - no doubt the man was trying to the staunch the flow of his life’s blood from his wound - and thinned the further along she walked, Nadette was pleased to find that it never truly disappeared. With the help of a few shaken townspeople she eventually found herself skirting along the back alleys of the city. Wherever he was trying to go, she doubted he'd find it this way.


Fingering the hilt of her rapier in growing anticipation, she made sure to keep her head up and senses on full alert. While far from crowded, there were still a few people wandering around the back roads - any distractions on her part could make the difference between capture and walking back empty handed and in even worse a mood. Luckily no one tried to talk to her, the serious expression on her face causing any words of greeting to die on their tongues and allowing her to continue on in relative peace.


It was when she turned a corner into another back alley that she spotted him. Injured though he was, Nadette had to admit that he made an imposing figure. She wasn't particularly short, but this man easily towered over her by more than a head - it was enough to give anyone pause. But Nadette wasn't just anyone. She was a proud member of the Town Guard, and so help her she would carry out her job to its fullest. Though the man had unsheathed both of his swords - had he always had two of them? - she refused to draw her own. Her hand did, however, keep its position on her rapier's hilt.


She glanced at his injured arm briefly, noting the makeshift bandage tied around the wound, before shifting her gaze to lock with his own. For a moment she said nothing, just simply stared at him as though trying to pick him apart and piece him back together with her gaze. Eventually she tilted her head and pursed her lips, her body maintaining a casual, almost relaxed posture as she regarded him. She let the silence continue for a few more moments, secretly enjoying the tension hanging in the air, before opening her mouth to speak.


“Are you going to listen to what I have to say or am I going to have to beat it into you? I'm not a big fan of bloodshed, but if you insist on being difficult I'm afraid I won't have much of a choice.”

 

[Atrophia Sanguinis]

Heart pounding and chest still rising and falling at a rapid pace, Kyrell scowled at the female guard before him, standing so casually and eyeing his figure as if she were planning where to strike. He flexed his injured arm experimentally, to make sure it could function. He found it could, despite the sharp pain that had hjis teeth grinding together. Slices were always the worst, the split flesh rubbing against itself and healed awkwardly unless seared or stitched. He regretted his choice of leaving speed for stealth, especially with an injury that practically left bread crumbs for this stubborn woman.


"Not a big fan of blood shed?" He raised an eyebrow as his bloodied hands adjusted on the hilts of his swords. She had yet to draw her weapon immediately, which set Kyrell off a bit. She'd been so willing to detatch an arm earlier. Perhaps his seemingly 'dark' aura made her hesitate. He realized he was looking down at her and began to feel more like a cat, though he dared not to underestimate her as a rat. A woman in the Town Guard? There was a damn good reason she was in it if she was a female.


His eyes locked with hers and his expression became unreadable as he pondered what his next step should be. He sheathed the sword held by his injured but kept the other out in good measure and kept his armed side to her, showing he was willing to listen but wouldn't likely easily accept a beating. By habit, he tucked his scarf further down from his chin as he began to play his cards.


"Neither am I one to fancy blood shed. Nor do I appreciate being beaten. I don't have that thick of a skull. I'll listen." He said patiently, starting his verbal web like he would when he was in meetings with the court. Show humor, even if dry, make them feel bigger and that they've something over you, and comply to their first demand. This was how he usually began his sneaky manipulations and he was sure if it worked on the cleverist nobles, it would work on a mere guard. His sword point touched the ground to show his seemingly docile agreement to her terms, though his body was tensed, ready if her way of speech was really physically beating the crap out of him.

 

[PeanutLemur]

His sarcasm was near palpable, especially given the way his injured arm seemed to draw in her focus like a moth to a flame. Perhaps her words were taken with a bit more salt than she had intended, though Nadette couldn’t truly fault the man for doubting her claim. She had, after all, been the one to throw the weapon that very nearly cost him an arm – not her intent mind you, but there was nothing that could be done about it now.


Straightening out her posture but not losing the relatively relaxed set to her shoulders, the blonde watched with curious eyes as the male sheathed one of his blades. She supposed that she should have been pleased that he had decided to listen to her rather than lash out the moment she opened her mouth to speak. That didn’t mean that she had to trust his sudden display of passiveness. Or should she say partial passiveness? Either way, there was something in the way he looked at her – not that she could really make out much of what he was thinking given the utterly stoic quality of his face – that set her on edge.


Nonetheless, no matter how unsettled she was at not being able to read his emotions, Nadette knew better than to look a gift horse in the mouth. She even had to make an effort to swallow the snicker that threatened to escape her lips in the wake of his statement. Though she couldn’t very well judge his personality considering the fact that she had never held any semblance of a conversation with the man, the blonde couldn’t help but find his short, abrupt manner of speech strangely humorous. It was certainly different from the talkative villagers that she was used to speaking with on a daily basis.


She removed her hand from its position on her rapier hilt, smoothing over the front of her cloak as she debated the best course of action to take. Or, more specifically, just how to state what she needed to. Luckily she had never been the type to beat around the bush – talking was the easy part. All she had to do was state her mind. Of course, that didn’t mean that she couldn’t uphold the man’s strange sense of politeness.


“My name is Nadette – I’m sure you’ve realized by now that I am a member of the Town Guard.” Coughing softly, she cut him a look from the corners of her eyes. “There are laws about the use of weapons around here... I’m also sure that you’re more than aware of just what running from a guard entails. I can assure you that I had no other intention aside from taking you in for questioning – a mandatory procedure mind you.” She paused slightly, tapping her fingers against the side of her thigh, and let out a soft sigh. “I suppose I can start the process here – that arm should be attended to – but only if you don’t take off again… So,” she stated at length, “are you willing to answer my questions?”

 

[Atrophia Sanguinis]

Kyrell pursed his lips as he processed what she had said. No doubt he'd probably been in less trouble and pain if he hadn't a taste for drama, but there would have still been a chance of her recognizing him if he had allowed her to question him. She had also introduced herself. A muscle in his jaw twitched. He would be an immense and counter productive fool if he returned Nadette's introduction with his own. Kyrell wasn't one for lying either, despite his manipulations and deceiving the court of nobles. He had the firm belief a King should not sit on a throne of lies, as they were weak and feeble groundwork for trust. He was inwardly proud of the fact he only lied once and he wanted it to stay that way, even though he wouldn't be King anymore.


The point of his sword found itself perpendicular to the ground, embedded in a crack of the brick road. He leaned his arms weight lightly on the pommel and stood back a bit, observing this guard once more. She was straight forward as he supposed any female among filth and male comrades would be. He had no doubt that her bite could be as bad as her bark, though he had yet to witness this. Well, if he was perfectly honest, he didn't want to witness it, even if he wasn't on the receiving end. She reminded him of his old governess when he was ten. A hardy, stout woman with a strong will and didn't take any shenanigans. She had cleaned up his sniveling act in two months. He still silently mourned her untimely end by a cross bolt. The woman had blocked the bolt from piercing him in the garden by stepping in the way just as the assassin shot.


He blinked, coming out of his dazed look and returned his attention monotonously back at the woman at hand. He assumed she implied helping him with his arm is he allowed her to begin questioning him in this dank dead end. That would surely be a plus, especially if the questions weren't too prying and he was able to get away without being recognized. He flipped the tip of his blade off of the ground and relaxed the flat against his shoulder casually, perhaps even mockingly with her mentioning of weapon regulations and cleared his throat.


"I said before I will listen." He gestured for to continue with his injured arm, his eye twitched in pain. "So I will listen. And I will answer these questions your protocol calls for."

 

[PeanutLemur]

Nadette felt that all too familiar twitch of annoyance in her jaw – she was immensely grateful that she hadn’t inherited her mother’s infamous eye twitch, loath to even imagine such an occurrence as she was – in the wake of the man’s actions. As if his blatant and continued use of his weapon wasn’t bad enough, the man just had to go and effectively patronize her with nothing more than three short sentences. If there was one thing that the blonde truly hated it was someone looking down on her, something the male seemed keen on doing. She practically had to bite down on her tongue to refrain from sticking it out at the man like a petulant child. Call her paranoid, but something told her that giving into such desires would only end badly on her behalf.


Fixing him under her stare, Nadette let out a low hum and crossed her arms over her chest. Her hip cocked slightly to the left with the movement, allowing the blonde to shift her weight off of her admittedly sore feet. Never let it be said that chasing people through the streets didn't have any drawbacks: her feet were starting to enter that strange semi-numb stage that always seemed to follow long periods of use. She honestly couldn't wait to sit down and relieve them of the pressure she was exerting on them. Perhaps she'd even be lucky enough to snag some food in the process - she'd had to forgo breakfast thanks to the man she had apprehended earlier. A hungry Nadette was a cranky Nadette, and that was something no one enjoyed dealing with.


Of course, Nadette wasn't so caught up in her other thoughts to miss the fact that the man failed to introduce himself. Now, she had never been one to pry, but there was no denying the curiosity burning through her veins. Nonetheless, the blonde reigned it in - if he didn't want to give his name there had to be a good reason for it. She didn't want to ruin this bit of cooperation by prying too far. Clearing her throat and doing her best to look away from his wound - that was something to address later; he seemed to be doing fine at the current moment -, she decided to get right to the point.


“If I may… What brings you to Canbritton?”

 

[Atrophia Sanguinis]

He observed her curiously, gaining an unexpected intelligent and annoyed response to his antics. To be fair, he didn't expect anything less of Nadette, but in all honesty, he hadn't expected as high as she gave. Kyrell had the unfortunate prejudice that guards were typically dull and receptive to commands, like those at the castle. He was beginning to think that his life was a bit more sheltered and conserved to castle walls than he would have liked.


Her first question had Kyrell looking about their surroundings as if he'd just seen them. "Canbritton, is it? I thought it would be bigger." After spinning around once he returned his attention back to the blonde, swinging his sword just to antagonize her before he sheathed it, confident that she would respect a conversation. He was also, in a sense, showing her respect, although laced with mirth.


Now how was he supposed to answer the question without lying? His brow drew together as he thought, losing his stoic appearance for a moment. Well, if he put it vaguely, perhaps she would accept that. But his reasons vaguely stated were that he was kicked out of his family. Would that give her incentive to pry more? Perhaps, but it was the closest to the truth he was willing to get without giving his identity away or lying to the guard. His eyes that had been focusing on a peculiar brick in his thoughts now flicked back to meet her blue ones. He really didn't have any qualms with this woman if he allowed himself to look clearly at the situation. She was an honorable maiden doing her job, someone that deserved respect and definitely not his manipulative shenanigans. Restraining a sigh, he decided to withhold his mocking actions further more.


His surprisingly light eyes that apposed his aura narrowed. He began to cross his arms but his injury prevented him from continuing the action and he grasped it with his other hand, a low sound coming from his throat as he recomposed himself. He would've thought he'd be used to pain by now but no, like his swordsman tutor told him: he was a big baby.


Taking in a deep breath, he regained his focus at the situation at hand and responded. "I was kicked out of my family and I'm now in search of work." Cursing inwardly, he scolded himself for adding the work part. She'd surely inquire about that. Kyrell hid his displeasure by giving his arm a small squeeze, his features disguised by the small amount of pain he let on.

 

[PeanutLemur]

Was it wrong to feel insulted over a brash comment made on behalf of her town? Nadette wasn’t quite sure, but if there was one thing she knew it was that she most certainly was. Though she could admit that Canbritton wasn’t much when compared to some of the larger cities in the kingdom – heck, it had a long way to go before it would ever compare to the splendor of the capital –, it was still her home. If for no other reason than that the town would always remain the best in her eyes. She had, after all, grown up running through its streets, learning what to and what not to do, and seeing life through the eyes of the villagers around her. Her beliefs had been shaped by this rural town turned trade center, and if she was a little bias about it so what? As far as she was concerned, she had every right to take pride in her birthplace. Who wouldn’t?


….Well ok, so there were probably plenty of people out there who didn't share her views on that matter. But as far as she was concerned that was on them.


The question now, however, was whether or not she risked letting the sarcasm threatening to escape have free reign of her mouth. The results could go one of two ways: he would either take offense and the situation would worsen, or it could help to ease some of the tension in the air. Either way, if she did choose to let her sarcastic nature loose it would help to give her a good gauge on his personality. Questions were only good for so much - sometimes one simply had to resort to psychological - or should she say sarcastic? - warfare.


Deciding to throw caution to the wind for the time being, Nadette allowed a small smirk to curve her lips. “Well,” she drawled, “with your winning personality and people skills I'm sure it won't take you long to find a job. I hear that a few merchants are looking for some day labor - a waste for someone from an obviously good upbringing such as yourself… But hey, you get what you can around here.” Bring a hand to her lips and furrowing her eyebrows in thought, the blonde slid her eyes towards the man’s injured arm. “You should probably get that taken care of first - I have some supplies stored in a tavern nearby for emergencies… I suppose I could always share them... Oh!”


Closing her eyes, the blonde allowed a fox-like grin to transform her face in the wake of her short outburst. “If you do plan on getting a job, you'd best think yourself up a name pretty fast. I hear it's hard to find work as a nameless stranger. But anyways,” she murmured, opening her eyes to stare at him once more, “how long have you been traveling?”

 

[Atrophia Sanguinis]

A dark brow lifted as her smirk slithered onto her lips. So he had finally pushed her a bit far past the boundaries of professionalism. His face was filled with scrutiny as she methodically jabbed back at him. But inside, Kyrell was smiling with dangerous mirth. This woman was far more intelligent than she had let on before, already manipulating him although it was obvious. But that was also her point. He assumed she was letting him know that she had caught his evasion of revealing his name.


Jaw working, his eyes bore into her. She had struck a chord in him, his annoyance piqued that she was able to get under his nails so viciously simple. And then there was the small part of his mind that enjoyed her banter. He hadn't had intelligent conversation in a few weeks, as reclusive as he was. This was like a breath of fresh air...with some nonsensical garbage floating around. Her new feral grin was ticking him off for some unknown reason. Why all of the sudden was she intolerable?


He decided it best to ignore her pokes and prods at the personality she thought he had, allowing her to think whatever she wished of her success in getting back at him with her dripping sarcasm.


Taking a deep breath, he straightened and let go of his arm. His gloved hands were clenched to his sides where he let all his irritation drain through, his face becoming composed once more as he regarded her monotonously. Again, he would have to answer truthfully, but vaguely enough she wouldn't become suspicious. He was banished almost a week ago. He could work with this. "I've only been on the road a few days, Nadette." Kyrell blinked. He had unintentionally added her name to jeer at her to get back at for her ridiculing him. He was acting like a child! How the hell was he losing control of what was coming out of his mouth?

 

[PeanutLemur]

Nadette told herself that the eyebrow that arched following his statement was merely due to curiosity, not because she was enjoying the off-put expression – almost as if he had eaten something sour – decorating his face in the wake of her taunting. It was a lie of course, but no one had to know that little bit of information. What was it her mother told her all those years ago? Oh yes: what you don’t know won’t kill you. While it was very unlikely that the sarcasm coating her words would leave any time soon, the blonde could at least attempt to maintain a generally jest-free countenance. It was the least she could do after all – the man was trying.


Chuckling softly, the woman could practically feel her eyes glowing with mirth when she next addressed him. “Already calling me by my name, hm? And here I thought you’d be like every other male and insist on always calling me ‘you’ or ‘woman’. I must say, it’s a rather nice change of pace.” The statement was made with no other intention than to gauge his reaction to her little jest – that, and the fact that she just couldn’t resist it – and Nadette had to wipe the idiotic grin off of her face in its wake. A small, knowing grin would just have to do.


She had to admit, for a guy who sure hated to talk this man was rather entertaining when he wanted to be. It seemed that the more she spoke, the less control he had over his composure. Sure, to anyone else it would appear as though he was stoic as all emotionless walls were. The thing was, however, that Nadette had spent many years learning the subtle language of body movements and postures. While this man was hardly screaming out his thoughts and feelings to the world, his subtle motions – the clenching of his fists; the slight twitch in his jaw – told her enough about his reactions to her words. It would appear that her flippant nature was starting to get under his skin – good; she could use that to her advantage. A reaction, no matter its nature, was always better than none. It meant that she was getting somewhere, though where exactly that “somewhere” was she had no clue. Better to watch where the cards fell then; she always did keep a few up her sleeve.


“A few days, huh?” Tapping her chin, Nadette titled her head to glance towards the rooftops, making a conscious effort to keep him in her line of sight. “I see; it’s hard for me to imagine you picking this place as your final destination though. Spend most of your money? Lose it?” She waved her hand then, almost as if shooing away an errant thought. “But how is that any business of mine? Tell me: where are you heading? The coast? The mountains? Or are you just wandering the road of life?”

 

[Atrophia Sanguinis]

The guard wasn't pushing her luck, but Kyrell's patience was wearing thin with the way she was enjoying the interrogation, though her questions seemed hardly worth the breath, subtracting the fact that if he had answered them completely truthful, he'd be dead. No, she was enjoying how he was reacting to her verbal side opinions and inputs. He could tell. What he couldn't tell was how she was able to see it. Then he was reminded this woman was a guard and his defenses went up once more. His hands and jaw loosened and his face went slack once more, his eyes only portraying the dark wall that disguised his thoughts. He wasn't about to let a mere guard, and a woman at that, mock him and make him feel foolish and so annoyed.


Tonelessly he replied to her first few sentences, saying, "You may find I am not most men, my winning personality and people skills as proof." And there he went again. Gods, could he not give her more incentive to heap more sarcasm on his plate? How was she inciting this from him? He found his hands were already balled into fists once more and he relaxed them, rolling his shoulders and breathing out a long breath, trying to let irritation ebb away from his being. He'd been careless. She could read him, like a book no doubt. He regarded the woman openly with a sour look of distaste. Yes, this woman was more than what she was letting on.


Fine, he would play the game. This time, he dared not underestimate her. He acted as if he was pondering her questions seriously before he replied. "Yes, I did say a few days. Now, for your questions: no to the first, yes to the second, indeed it isn't your business to the third, and as for the fourth..." He paused. "Well, let's just say I'm walking the road to live." His eyes glittered with secrets he withheld from her, subtly hoping she caught his difference of 'life' and 'live'. She could continue asking, if that was what she wished. He would just dance and dodge around them. He was, after all, supposed to be the best at this as the former Dark Prince.

 

[PeanutLemur]

“…Well, let’s just say that I’m walking the road to live.”


Nadette’s eyes sharpened, the piecing blue of their depths glinting with the force of her stare in the wake of his words. She was certain that it hadn’t been some fluke, some mere change of words made simply because he felt like it. Oh no, he had done it deliberately. She was sure of it. And if the expression on his face – one scarily akin to a spider luring its prey into its web – was anything to go by? Well, he was all but taunting her, begging her to call him out on it if only so he could… could do what, exactly? She wasn’t so sure, but she was wasn’t too keen on finding out.


Nonetheless, she couldn’t just back off because he felt like turning the tables. It would put her training to shame. That, and her pride – what little of it she had – probably wouldn’t recover from such a blow. If fighting fire with fire only resulted in a bigger flame, she could only imagine what occurred when one combatted sarcasm with sarcasm. Perhaps, had it been somebody else, there would have been some puns thrown into the mix. Unfortunately – or was it fortunately? –, her current conversation partner didn’t seem much of the punny type. In fact, he’d probably turn into even more of a stoic wall if his most recent change in body language was anything to go by. Obviously he didn’t like the notion of her being able to gauge his thoughts and feelings, no matter how limited said readings were.


“Right,” she said at length with a slight nod to her head. “I’m pretty sure that’s the point of life – living. And if you want to stay that way… you should probably get that arm taken care of before you have to cut it off.” While it was highly unlikely that he would bleed to death from such a wound, there was still the chance of it becoming infected – a chance that grew the longer he left it unattended to. While her weapon hadn’t been festering with filth, she couldn’t say the same for his shirt. He had said that he’d been traveling for a few days and as far as she could see he wasn’t carrying around and extra bag of clothes. She was no fool, the blonde was certain that that shirt had seen plenty during his travels thus far. If the dirt from his earlier tumble on the ground wasn’t enough, she could only shudder at the thought of just what else was clinging to the linen. Having a swath of it tied so intimately around his wound, the man was practically asking for it to fester.


Turning so that she was angled toward the entrance of the alley – she would never turn her back to him without knowing for certain that he wouldn’t use the opportunity to use his blade to run her through –, Nadette motioned for him to follow her. “We can finish our talk in better surroundings. My bonus stash of supplies isn’t very far from here.”

 

[Atrophia Sanguinis]

"Talk?" The simple word came out with a tone that spoke pages of mirth. Was this indeed her definition of a talk, a verbal prowl around each other? Kyrell wasn't that narrow minded, but even if she hadn't meant it sarcastically he still found it amusing that she would possibly unintentionally label an interrogation as a talk. If that was so, this woman was too caught up in her work and taking down the filth of the world.


Swallowing a rare smile, he turned his attention to his arm. He had worst wounds before. His mind traveled back to when he stole an apple from the kitchen and the fat cook hauled him into the hearth. Kyrell had at first believed it as some sort of cruel and unjust discipline for stealing but he heard from the guards later on the cook had been topped off to rid of him through poison. The cook should have stuck with the poison. Nonetheless, Kyrell's body was covered in burns and blisters, most of all his forearms, hands and left side of his body. His gloved fingers flexed, feeling the nostalgic stinging burn of one of the last few assassination attempts on his life that had brutally scarred where the burns had been their worst.


Refocusing on the present, he peeled his makeshift bandage from the wound and looked at the sliced flesh. It was beginning to grow pink, becoming inflamed. Kyrell frowned openly. Yes, he would have to get it taken care of before the next morn when an infection no doubt would be festering from his wound and slowing his 'escape' down. That brought Kyrell thinking to the future. What were his plans after she questioned him? Originally, he had planned on getting work, especially after getting his supplies stolen. But now the guard knew his face and she also had headquarters where his face would literally be plastered all over the walls to make sure that the Dark Prince had left the boundaries he had been banished from or detained if he had failed to follow his end. His stubbornness made him refuse to run though, as he'd never done it before. He wanted to be the annoying fly under his brother's nose, causing just enough distraction to let him know that Kyrell knew he had been framed and his brother was somehow in on it.


Kyrell sighed and released the bandage. He looked back at Nadette who he was sure had been waiting 'patiently' for him to make up his mind. And he had. "Alright, lead the way then." His tone was cautious as he began to follow the petite blonde. If indeed her supplies were located at her head quarters, he would bolt, banter and respect or no. He was willing to risk the arm as a necessary sacrifice for as he had told her before, he walked the path to live. And Kyrell was willing to pave it if he had to.

 

[PeanutLemur]

Nadette watched him for a few silent moments, understanding of the fact that he very likely had to make up his mind on whether or not he wished to follow her into a possible lion’s den, before nodding her head with a soft smile when he silently relented. Luckily for him, though Kyrell wouldn’t know until they arrived at her pre-set destination, the blonde liked to keep a few stashes of supplies around the town for those occasions wherein she was too far from headquarters to take care of a few wounds. Of course, whether said wounds belonged to her or her captives had never been specified – they were merely there in case the need for them should ever arise. And, as it would seem, a need had indeed shown itself.


The particular location she was taking her acquaintance – she could think of no better term to call him given the… circumstances of their meeting – happened to be a local tavern run by an old family friend. It wasn’t the most crowded of places given the fact that it wasn’t situated on the main square, but its loyal customers and the general word of mouth ensured that it stayed remotely busy on any given day. It provided her a comfortable atmosphere to take care of her business without arousing too many questions or concerns, and given the fact that the owner favored her immensely meant that she could keep her junk there free of charge. All in all, it was a win-win situation. If she just so happened to spread word of the establishment around town then so what? She could hardly stand owing people anything; giving the man a little more business would only benefit him in the end anyways.


The walk to the tavern – appropriately named The Old Mug – was a short one that took the unusually duo down a few streets, past some turns, and to the front of an old stone building. The sign out front hung just south of crooked, and Nadette had to remind herself to tell Carrick – the owner of the establishment – to invest in a new one. Thankfully the inside was a bit more hospitable with freshly swept wooden floors and a collection of tables dotting the main room. Towards the back wall stood the bar, and though there were a sparse collection of windows in the building, the natural light was enough to warrant the usage of only a few gas lamps. Then again, the dim look had always been to be a commonality in the taverns she ventured into – probably something that dealt with male pride and the fact that they liked to make themselves appear more badass than they truly were. Honestly, the blonde felt that she would never understand the way their minds worked.


Despite the few customers who shot curious glances her way – though they were most likely looking at her companion as she was a regular sight around these parts –, Nadette was wholly pleased to find that her venture to the back, and the man grinning at her from behind the bar, was uninterrupted. With a glance to make sure that the man was still following her, the blonde turned to the bald-headed male behind the bar with a grin. “The usual, Carrick.”


The man merely arched his eyebrow at the woman, pausing in his cleaning of the glass in his hands to send a curious glance at her companion. He trusted Nadette, but he couldn’t say that he cared much for the company she kept. If it wasn’t the idiots from the guard, it was some manner of ruffian she picked up off the streets – usually on their way to headquarters mind you. Nonetheless, the bulky man was pleased to find that this particular male didn’t appear stupid or the kind of person to willing rob old ladies and unsuspecting children. Sure he gave off a dark, ‘leave me alone or else’ vibe, but he knew that Nadette wouldn’t have allowed him to walk around freely if he was some kind of mass murder. Sliding his eyes back to the blonde haired woman who had no doubt come in for her medical kit, Carrick set down his newly cleaned glass. “Sure thing kid. Just remember to keep the blood off of my counters.”


“When have I ever –” but she was cut off by the leather box thrust purposefully in her face. Casting a glare at the tavern owner, Nadette accepted the supplies and motioned for her silent shadow to follow her to the edge of the bar. She set the kit down and paused, blue-grey gaze sliding over to access his injury before lifting to his own. “Now, I’m no medical expert, but from my experience I know that it’s easier to take care of a wound with two arms that it is to do so with one. I won’t impose, however. Kit is all yours if you want it.”

 

[Atrophia Sanguinis]

Relief flood Kyrell when she led him into a tavern. He had been tense most of the walk, unsure if he was entangling himself further in a web of doom but he visibly relaxed. And by visibly, his shoulders weren't as hunched. When he entered the Old Mug behind the petite blonde, he almost froze as some curious eyes immediately snagged onto his figure. Kyrell wouldn't pride himself here in the fact that he could draw the eye with his entrances. His knowledge told him that the gazes burdening his figure were full of caution and curiosity.


A large burly man in a corner table, the dimmest part of the room, licked his lips as he eyed Kyrell up and down like a piece of meat in the market as he slipped a dagger under his arm onto the table. Kyrell met his gaze evenly, daring the man to make a move against him while he was in the midst of an audience. The man grinned, displaying his corn yellow teeth. Kyrell almost sneered back at him, finally recognizing the disgusting bulk of fat and muscle. He was the Queen's lackey, one of the assassin's that failed to do their job in getting rid of the Dark Prince. He could remember right where the man, Dog (appropriately named in Kyrell's opinion), had run him through with possibly the same exact dagger. Well, Dog hadn't really stabbed him. It was more like his dagger went between torso and arm but left a scar on his armpit.


Kyrell almost ran into the bar along the back wall and consequently almost bumped into Nadette with his tall, imposing figure while trying to hold Dog's stare with is bright eyes that held dark fate, still goading the mutt to just try to kill him here. Nadette's position and respect for her was secondary to him at the moment, the road of living promising to be lengthy so long as he fought for it . Besides, if Dog came at him, self defense was a worthy cause to use a weapon wasn't it? Something began irritating his periphial and his head snapped to the man behind the counter who was eyeing him suspiciously. Kyrell shoved all hostile looks behind the metaphorical wall of his mind and looked evenly at the large man, nodding his head slightly to show his respect, even though the man was practically dirt compared to Kyrell. Or what I used to be anyway, he reprimanded himself.


His lips twitched at the gruff but familiar interaction between Nadette and the bartender, observing with slight curiosity at how they so easily prodded at each other without plotting to poison the other afterwards. Indeed, the palace life had made Kyrell perhaps...maybe admittedly...naive to the world...and introverted. He hastily thought of different things to keep his pride in order. He was a man with skills and blades, he could still as easily make through life in a village by his own two hands as he did in the luxury of having servants. The dark haired male was willing to get dirty, he only had distaste for the need of adaption to the new environment.


Kyrell shifted his gaze to the blonde guard as she spoke to him. "Well, I hope you're expert enough to clean and stitch." He said dryly and pulled a stool out to sit with his injured arm towards her, facing the counter. He was about to wave for some sort of liquor to help for the pain when he forgot his coin purse was stolen by some grubby hands. Sighing, he set the elbow of his uninjured arm on the wood and leaned his head against his palm as he looked sidelong at Nadette as she began her work on his arm, momentarily putting dog on the back burner of his priorities.

 

[PeanutLemur]

Nadette was far from a trained doctor. All of her knowledge had been gained solely through experience and the basic training that all guards went through upon initiation. After all, one never knew when he or she would be faced with an injury and without any immediate source of medical aid. Even if the work was sloppy, being able to handle the basics was necessary in their line of work. Luckily Nadette worked with enough accident-prone males to gain a general sense of how to properly care for and handle most injuries. Her work may not be anywhere near a professional’s, but she could confidently say that she could handle most wounds. And a mere slice to the arm? Well, the dark haired male had better be thankful that she had a steady hand.


The blonde wasted no time in pulling out a small sewing needle and thread, a few cotton swabs and a fresh roll of bandages, and a bottle of disinfectant and a few probing and cleaning tools from the depths of her medical kit. In an almost methodical manner she arranged them around her makeshift workspace, making quick work of soaking one of the swabs with the disinfectant and running it over the needle and probes, before using it to support said needle and probes as she turned her attention to the male’s arm. Pausing with her fingers a hair’s breadth from his arm as though suddenly remembering something, Nadette lifted her head to access the expression of her patient – not that she was expecting much to begin with. Upon seeing nothing unsettling reflected on his countenance, she softly prodded around his wound, keeping care to refrain from moving too close to the reddened flesh or to push too hard against his skin. Once she was satisfied with her rudimentary checkup, the woman leaned backwards to douse another cotton swab in her disinfectant. Raising the newly soaked material to his arm, she cast him a sideways glance.


“This will sting a bit.”


While Nadette had no qualms with her straightforward attidude, there were times when her spontaneous patients wished that she placed more care into her actions when addressing their injuries. It wasn’t that she was harsh in her bedside manner, but more along the lines of being precise and swift in her actions. Like ripping off a Band-Aid, she made sure to take care of things as quickly and efficiently as possible. If it hurt a bit in the process then so be it – it was all a part of healing in the long run. It took the blonde all of three swabs to wipe away the blood and grime from the wound and another to ensure that it was properly sterilized altogether. The final swab was used in drying off the area around the wound and the injury itself, but she didn’t much feel like counting that one as its job was wholly uninteresting in her eyes. Once she was satisfied with her work and certain that she hadn’t missed any blood or dirt, the woman turned to lean away from the dark haired male in order to dig through her supplies once more.


It took her a short moment’s work to thread the needle and tie off the thread, a display of feminine skill with sewing that would have made her mother proud. Sadly Nadette had never been much a fan of sewing. Nonetheless, as she turned once more in the direction of her ever silent patient, the blonde pursed her lips. “You know,” she murmured at length while once more probing the area around the wound in search of the best side to start on, “talking helps to keep your mind off of the pain. I know you’re not much a fan for idle chit-chat, but entertain me will you?” Finally settling on the edge closest to his outer arm, she set to work. Her movements were careful, precise as she inserted the point of the needle downwards into the subdermal layer of his skin. Recalling all of the times her father used to tell her funny stories and ask her obnoxious questions as a child in an effort to draw her attention away from whatever it was that the doctors were doing, Nadette decided to employ the same tactic. Whether he would be thankful or not she wasn’t quite sure. What she did know, however, was that any manner of conversation would be preferable to the thick silence hanging in the air.


“What’s your favorite color?”

 

[Atrophia Sanguinis]

Kyrell's jaw tightened and his hand turned into a fist as it lowered onto the counter. He watched Nadette with keen eyes glowing with his unuttered protest to her painful efficiency. He heard a hard bark of laughter from the corner of the tavern and he was reminded of who so elegantly graced them with their presence. But Dog made no move on Kyrell yet, that he could tell. He was probably waiting for a guard, a servant of the King, to get out of the way. If that was so, Kyrell would have to make sure he stuck around with her, just in case.


"What's your favorite color?" She asked as she began threading his skin back together. Kyrell was honestly shocked and puzzled at such a simple question, so deep in thought he mulled in his mind about it that he did indeed forget momentarily of the pain in his upper arm. What was his favorite color, hmm? Yes, what was his favorite color? He'd never been asked such an opinionated yet so natural a thing. In fact, he'd never really looked upon the physical world without thinking he had no rights to such 'petty' things, his life all about the bigger picture as he grew up. His brows drew together in deep thought. There was a color that made him feel at home and relaxed. He turned back to Nadette. "Blue, like the river reflecting the sky." His answer was blunt yet eloquent and he felt rather embarrassed at admitting such a personal thing, not being used to it. He looked at her eyes momentarily, comparing them to the endless space above their heads before his eyes flicked else where, busying themselves by analyzing bottles of liquor. The last thing he needed was for her to get the wrong idea at him 'gazing' into her eyes.


He swallowed as he watched her finish up by tying his stitches up and snipping the thread. Had it really taken him that long to decide? A frown placed itself on his face. He felt like he was robbed of such a nice, simple life by being born into royalty all of the sudden. He felt cheated because despite his temperament, he actually felt a little bit giddy in sharing the color of his affection. A hacking cough coming from the corner behind him where Dog resided sobered Kyrell's small elation. He had a pest to deal with still. He looked over Nadette and decided it best to let her in on this, if not use her to rid the world of one more scumbag.


He cleared his throat lightly to gain her attention. "Don't look, whatever you do because he'll know I told you. There's a man sitting in the dark corner of the tavern behind me. His name is Dog. And he's a gold drinking assa- thief." He saved himself quickly from being possibly further questioned about why and assassin would be on his tail and continued, "He was the one that stole my things earlier but he didn't finish the job of slitting my throat. I was wondering, Nadette, if you'd give me permission to regain my pride and hack this fool's hands off." His tone was strangely conversational and light in his low tone so as not attract attention. He watched the guard's face patiently, waiting for her verdict on his request.

 

[PeanutLemur]

The smile that had blossomed on her face in the wake of her dark-haired acquaintance’s surprisingly honest answer froze the moment the words left his lips. Thief; slit; pride – oh yes, she was more than familiar with the connotations of those words. She paused but momentarily however, the upturned tilt to her lips straining just enough around the edges for anyone close enough to her to see the subtle change in her demeanor. To anyone watching them from a distance the shift would have been easily glossed over and altogether missed – and that was just what Nadette intended. There was no use in letting the man – this Dog – in on their conversation; she was trained better than that.


All the same, it would appear that this man was more than met the eyes. Not that she was wholly surprised, the blonde had figured as much the moment she began talking to him in the alleyway. What exactly that “more” entailed, however, she could not say. Nonetheless, she was positive that calling Dog a ‘thief’ had been a spur of the moment thing. No doubt that there was another word that suited the man much better – a word that the man beside her had oh-so-willingly left out. But she wouldn’t ask, it wasn’t the time nor the place. If what he said – or was it what he didn’t say? – was true then the man sitting behind them was certainly no mere criminal.


Busying herself with cleaning up her supplies, Nadette cast the male at her side a glance from the corners of her eyes. “I can’t condone such actions,” she said softly, closing her first aid kit and turning to meet his gaze with her own. “Not in here at least.” She took a moment to map out the area in her mind, her eyes drifting to the front of the tavern as she thought. It wasn’t hard to tell from the male’s voice that he wasn’t about to willingly take ‘no’ for an answer. Whatever beef he had with Dog – something told her it was more than just having his belongings robbed earlier – was enough to have him on a murderous rage, subdued though it was. Luckily for him, Nadette liked to think herself a fairly reasonable person. As he had done nothing to harm her let alone to give her reason to suspect that he would, she figured that she could be lenient enough and allow him his act of vengeance. After all, it would work in her favor in the end. In allowing the man this, she would gain insight on his capabilities and rid her town of a criminal with one fell swoop. The only drawback was figuring out how to lure the man out with her still on the scene; she couldn’t very well let a potential murder occur without her supervision.


Standing up to take the medical kit back to Carrick, the blonde leaned in slightly to inform the dark-haired male of her impromptu plan. “There’s an alley at the back of the tavern, if you want your confrontation I suggest going there. We’ll head out through the back and I’ll branch off from there.” She smirked then, straightening up with a slight chuckle. “I assure you, however: just because you can’t see me doesn’t mean that I’m not there. I won’t allow fighting under my watch unless I am there to monitor it.” Her expression hardened then and she paused in her actions. “...You have given me no reason to not trust you, don’t make me regret this decision.”


Without waiting for an answer the blonde walked off to return the kit to the bar tender, a soft smile and a shake of the head assuring him that everything was okay when he cast her a concerned glance. Honestly, the man worried too much; it was a wonder she ever joined the guard in the first place with him constantly nettling her about keeping safe. Nonetheless, what Carrick didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. She paused momentarily by the form her former patient, a questioning “well” escaping her lips as she looked at him. She had given him her permission, but it was up to him to accept the terms she had laid out. For now all she could do was wait.

 

[Atrophia Sanguinis]

Kyrell signaled for Nadette to leave subtly. He knew as soon as she left, Dog would jump on him like a tick...on a dog, ironically. He assured her with a look in his eyes that her trust had not been misplaced. He would go to the back alley with the assassin. He had already decided he wouldn't run unless she tried to take him to the guard headquarters. And he was solely focused on ending this mutt that dared to drool in his presence. He was going to send one of his demons back from where it came from.


And just as he had predicted, Dog approached him from behind when the guard took her supposed lead. "Well, well, well. What do we have here? It isn't my birthday is it?" His foul breath could be sensed from where Kyrell was sitting.


"What do you want mutt?" Kyrell asked, his hatred thinly disguised as he turned and stood over the stouter man.


Dog grinned with his ugly corn teeth. "Why, Kyrell, that's so kind of you to ask. Well, to put it efficiently blunt: I want you dead for the price our beloved King will pay when I deliver it."


Kyrell's jaw tightened in disgust. This man thought he was clever, spouting his name off and trying to enrage him further. Well he did get angrier. But it didn't have the effect Dog was expecting. Kyrell turned slowly to the bartender and said, "I apologize for what's about to follow." The man's eyes were wide and Kyrell had the slight instinct in the back of his mind telling him it was not about the fight that was about to unfold. And before Dog could react, Kyrell whirled on him and punched him solidly in the nose, promptly making the man bend over in pain. Ignoring the pathetic man's squeals, he gripped Dog's greasy hair and practically dragged him outside and into the back alleyway of the tavern as instructed. He threw Dog against the opposing wall and drew one sword with the arm that was not injured, not wanting to have the stitches be replaced so soon after being patched up.


"Since when did you grow such bold balls?" Dog hissed viciously as he cowered in the muck of the alley.


"I can only say I had them before you did." Kyrell stepped away from the man so he'd stand up and fight. Dog staggered to his feet, bloody nose still dripping as he drew a dagger and sword. Kyrell hoped Nadette was watching for the sake of not getting on her bad side any further as he was ready to skewer this man.


Dog charged him first, jabbing, slicing, and stabbing with both his blades. Kyrell dodged effortlessly from his antics, barely raising the one sword he had out. He did this purposely to antagonize his opponent further even if it did call for a few close calls with the nasty looking weapons. He wanted Dog to know just how powerless and small he was compared to those he targeted. Kyrell's distaste for assassin's wasn't just personal, it was also a moral thing that bothered him. He did sneak around in shadows himself but never had the dark haired man attacked from them. He considered such actions to be cowardly and weak.


Having enough with tiring and toying with the assassin, Kyrell looked for the right moment when Dog would lunge, trying to stab him. An unlikely smile found its place on his face a few seconds later when Dog stepped forward, his arm drawn back to drive the dagger in his hand into the Dark Prince. Kyrell dodged to the side, spinning and placed his sword between his arm and torso, the same area where Dog had first tried to murder him, and plunged the blade behind him, striking through Dog's chest and straight through his back with the combination of forces. He pulled the blade out and turned to look at the dying assassin who fell to his knees, gurgling from the blood entering his lung. Kyrell wiped the sides of his sword on Dog's shoulder, cleaning the blade before he sheathed it. He then stooped down and took the dagger that once sought his life and plunged it without hesitation into the other man's neck, killing him. He kicked the body away from leaning on him and turned to the open alleyway, searching for a certain blonde.


"Enjoy the show?" He called out.