718 Vhalar 56...
Anita had proved to be far more knowledgeable about the robbery than he had hoped for. Once his humanity had been proved and most of the others had cleared out from the streets, she had had no qualms sharing what she knew – the “duty of the fortunate”, as it were.
According to what she’d seen, the thief had attempted to purloin a portrait. In fact, had the Dragoon who had accosted – and subsequently executed it – it was quite likely the streets would have been abuzz with bemused gossip about the fit the noble threw when he realized the portrait she’d recently won at auction for an inordinate number of nels had been run through with a sword and stained with the emerald blood of a Creepborne.
From there, the situation had escalated; chaos and confusion had led to Anita retiring from the scene earlier than most, as she’d been fortunate enough to be caught on the outskirts when it had all begun, and opted to return home to secure the area as quickly as possible. Still, she had lingered long enough to note that, as far as she could tell, though the Dragoon had, of course, hauled the body away for examination elsewhere, the damaged painting had been nowhere to be seen.
Curiosity ever his impetus, Mathias arrived in the Glimmer without too much trouble. Unsurprisingly, the streets had been more empty than usual. He had kept to the main thoroughfares to both avoid suspicion of the faces that peered out of their grimy windows and decrease his chances of running into another doppelganger. Though he doubted he’d see another, at least for some time, he had no reason to take any unnecessary risks. At least, not yet.
It took some time to find where exactly Anita had said the creature had been felled. There were, as before, no people about to ask for directions. Though he could have popped his head into one of the many shops that still remained open, even after what had transpired, etiquette would have required he purchase something, and he had no particular desire to tote around a useless item he did not need for the rest of the trail.
The cobbles had been scorched, then cleaned, then scorched again, and he could still smell the familiar stench that lingered where ever purifiers were used. The rest of the alley, like all those before it, had not a single soul about. The storefronts, too, were shuttered, save one, though that was due mostly to the fact that the large paned glass window that took up most of its street-facing wall lay in shattered pieces still.
Picking his way through the debris, he ducked through the gaping hole in the building. Sunlight poured in from behind him, illuminating the small space. There were paintings all along the walls, interrupted by in an archway with a heavy curtain of some dark woven cloth that led, presumably, into the artist’s workroom.
“Hello? Is anyone here?” He took care to impress upon his tone a sense of geniality, something that was far more impressive in voice that it would ever be in expression, of which his remained blank for lack of need of it.
There was no immediate response, but he doubted so many pieces of artwork would be left unattended when there was nothing but the Dragoon stopping them- Then again, he supposed, perhaps that was precisely what the owner of the shop had done. Any thief in their right mind would baulk at the prospect of stealing from the same place a creature of the Creep had just recently targeted. It was, effectively, a-
“Do you have a death wish, young man?” The curtain was pushed aside to reveal a hoary head of hair atop a keen set of emerald eyes, a pinched nose, and thin lips pursed into a pensive frown. “Or are you simply stupid?”
“Neither, I hope.” Now the smile was necessary, and he donned it like one would a cap, quickly and without ceremony. “I was wondering-“
“You’re the one they were sending over, aren’t you?” Her hair had been put up in a loose, messy bun – the sort that looked like she was constantly several breaks short on time. Running both hands along the side of her head in a vain attempt to smooth the smoky wisps of hair back down into submission, she puffed out a weary sigh. “Damn.”
Lies of omission were convenient in that if one was ever discovered, fault belonged with she who assumed the lack of denial to be agreement with the initial supposition. Though he had no intention of keeping up a farce for a role he knew nothing about, what advantage it did provide for the time being was enough. “What… happened here?” He didn’t bother adding any sort of authority to his tone and kept his words polite.
“Like you don’t know,” she scoffed, dragging a broom behind her as she made her way towards the window. “And, like I said to her before, it’s not my fault the Goon slashed the Malhoa.”
“Of course not,” he nodded, stepping. Her brow rose in mild surprise at his amicability as she passed by, but rather than saying anything on the matter, she simply nodded and started sweeping up the few shards of glass that remained on the floor as most of the debris was outside on the street. “I was more so curious as to the whereabouts of the remains of the painting.”
“Don’t know, and honestly? Don’t care.” She moved steadily across the floor, gathering a small pile of dust and sharp fragments from the window. “I’ve already returned her money; you can tell her there’s not anything more I can do.” With a few vigorous swipes from her broom, the detritus was cast out of the hole in her wall and onto the cobbles outside.
“Surely you must have some idea-“
Rounding on him with a dour frown, she set the broom against a part of the wall between two paintings and crossed her arms. “If I tell you, will you go away?”
“If you tell me, will it be the truth?” He kept his smile but added a bit more of a challenging rise to the otherwise soft nature of his tone.
She let out an unimpressed “hmph” through her nose. “I’ve been answering questions for the past break, boy. I’m old, and I’m tired.”
“I apologize, I did not mean to-“
“Tell you what,” she stepped closer, green eyes glimmering with a challenging spark. “I’ll tell you where I think it went like I told the Goon, and you can be on your way.”
It was more than he’d been expecting. “Thank you, it would be most appreciated.”
She stared at him for a few trills, eyes squinting as she studied him, a wavering uncertainty lingering in her gaze before she shrugged and nodded. “I’d never seen the man – well, what I thought was a man – before. He came in, he asked about the painting-“
“He didn’t sound odd?”
“What? No. I don’t… not that I remember.” It was clear he’d made a mistake in interrupting her when she added an irked, “You want me to tell you or not?”
“Again, my apologies. Please, continue.”
Another sigh, this time followed with a slight roll of her eyes. He could almost hear the words “young people” bashing against the inside of her skull. “As I said, he asked about the painting; I told him it was sold, then he just… grabbed it.” Her eyes flashed and she snapped a quick, “Yes, I know I shouldn’t have kept it out on display.”
Mathias simply blinked, opting to keep his mouth shut, which proved effective enough.
“He jumped out the window, Goon happened to be passing by…” She waved a hand in the air, and Mathias nodded. He didn’t need details of the event so much as what came after. “After he gutted the beast – through the Malhoa, I might add, the brute – there was a huge commotion. Big crowd, tons of people. No one cared about the painting, of course.” She sighed and muttered a bitter, “Not that they should have at that point.”
Shaking her head, she continued, moving forward and putting a hand on Mathias’ back, escorting him towards the window. “But I swear I saw a woman leaving the crowd with it.”
“Is there… anything special about it?” He allowed himself to be guided up to the point just before stepping out before he turned on her with his quiet question, brows raised and bright eyes plainly curious.
“Not… no, not particularly.” Her brow furrowed for a moment. “Though… the frame is made of ebony. If it’s undamaged, that would still fetch quite a price, now that I think about it. Damn.”
“Do you have any idea who the woman was? What she looked like? Where she was headed?” To avoid pushing the woman too far, he carefully ducked under the jagged, splintered remains of the window’s edges, effectively exiting the establishment, though he lingered right outside.
“Hm?” Preoccupied with what she’d said before, the woman offered him a confused frown before she remembered herself. “Who? Oh, no.” She itched at the bottom of her chin, expression thoughtful with memory. “But she had… long hair. Sort of… blonde-brown. About the same height as you, actually, and…” A trill or two of pause passed before she shook her head, “No… that’s all I can remember about what she looked like.” Pointing down the street she added, “She was headed that way though, more toward Shanty than anywhere in the Gleam I can think of.”
“Again, thank you for your assistance. You have been extremely helpful.” Polite and warm, he showed his teeth in a grin.
She returned the gesture with a dismissive wave of her hand. “Now get.”
Anita had proved to be far more knowledgeable about the robbery than he had hoped for. Once his humanity had been proved and most of the others had cleared out from the streets, she had had no qualms sharing what she knew – the “duty of the fortunate”, as it were.
According to what she’d seen, the thief had attempted to purloin a portrait. In fact, had the Dragoon who had accosted – and subsequently executed it – it was quite likely the streets would have been abuzz with bemused gossip about the fit the noble threw when he realized the portrait she’d recently won at auction for an inordinate number of nels had been run through with a sword and stained with the emerald blood of a Creepborne.
From there, the situation had escalated; chaos and confusion had led to Anita retiring from the scene earlier than most, as she’d been fortunate enough to be caught on the outskirts when it had all begun, and opted to return home to secure the area as quickly as possible. Still, she had lingered long enough to note that, as far as she could tell, though the Dragoon had, of course, hauled the body away for examination elsewhere, the damaged painting had been nowhere to be seen.
Curiosity ever his impetus, Mathias arrived in the Glimmer without too much trouble. Unsurprisingly, the streets had been more empty than usual. He had kept to the main thoroughfares to both avoid suspicion of the faces that peered out of their grimy windows and decrease his chances of running into another doppelganger. Though he doubted he’d see another, at least for some time, he had no reason to take any unnecessary risks. At least, not yet.
It took some time to find where exactly Anita had said the creature had been felled. There were, as before, no people about to ask for directions. Though he could have popped his head into one of the many shops that still remained open, even after what had transpired, etiquette would have required he purchase something, and he had no particular desire to tote around a useless item he did not need for the rest of the trail.
The cobbles had been scorched, then cleaned, then scorched again, and he could still smell the familiar stench that lingered where ever purifiers were used. The rest of the alley, like all those before it, had not a single soul about. The storefronts, too, were shuttered, save one, though that was due mostly to the fact that the large paned glass window that took up most of its street-facing wall lay in shattered pieces still.
Picking his way through the debris, he ducked through the gaping hole in the building. Sunlight poured in from behind him, illuminating the small space. There were paintings all along the walls, interrupted by in an archway with a heavy curtain of some dark woven cloth that led, presumably, into the artist’s workroom.
“Hello? Is anyone here?” He took care to impress upon his tone a sense of geniality, something that was far more impressive in voice that it would ever be in expression, of which his remained blank for lack of need of it.
There was no immediate response, but he doubted so many pieces of artwork would be left unattended when there was nothing but the Dragoon stopping them- Then again, he supposed, perhaps that was precisely what the owner of the shop had done. Any thief in their right mind would baulk at the prospect of stealing from the same place a creature of the Creep had just recently targeted. It was, effectively, a-
“Do you have a death wish, young man?” The curtain was pushed aside to reveal a hoary head of hair atop a keen set of emerald eyes, a pinched nose, and thin lips pursed into a pensive frown. “Or are you simply stupid?”
“Neither, I hope.” Now the smile was necessary, and he donned it like one would a cap, quickly and without ceremony. “I was wondering-“
“You’re the one they were sending over, aren’t you?” Her hair had been put up in a loose, messy bun – the sort that looked like she was constantly several breaks short on time. Running both hands along the side of her head in a vain attempt to smooth the smoky wisps of hair back down into submission, she puffed out a weary sigh. “Damn.”
Lies of omission were convenient in that if one was ever discovered, fault belonged with she who assumed the lack of denial to be agreement with the initial supposition. Though he had no intention of keeping up a farce for a role he knew nothing about, what advantage it did provide for the time being was enough. “What… happened here?” He didn’t bother adding any sort of authority to his tone and kept his words polite.
“Like you don’t know,” she scoffed, dragging a broom behind her as she made her way towards the window. “And, like I said to her before, it’s not my fault the Goon slashed the Malhoa.”
“Of course not,” he nodded, stepping. Her brow rose in mild surprise at his amicability as she passed by, but rather than saying anything on the matter, she simply nodded and started sweeping up the few shards of glass that remained on the floor as most of the debris was outside on the street. “I was more so curious as to the whereabouts of the remains of the painting.”
“Don’t know, and honestly? Don’t care.” She moved steadily across the floor, gathering a small pile of dust and sharp fragments from the window. “I’ve already returned her money; you can tell her there’s not anything more I can do.” With a few vigorous swipes from her broom, the detritus was cast out of the hole in her wall and onto the cobbles outside.
“Surely you must have some idea-“
Rounding on him with a dour frown, she set the broom against a part of the wall between two paintings and crossed her arms. “If I tell you, will you go away?”
“If you tell me, will it be the truth?” He kept his smile but added a bit more of a challenging rise to the otherwise soft nature of his tone.
She let out an unimpressed “hmph” through her nose. “I’ve been answering questions for the past break, boy. I’m old, and I’m tired.”
“I apologize, I did not mean to-“
“Tell you what,” she stepped closer, green eyes glimmering with a challenging spark. “I’ll tell you where I think it went like I told the Goon, and you can be on your way.”
It was more than he’d been expecting. “Thank you, it would be most appreciated.”
She stared at him for a few trills, eyes squinting as she studied him, a wavering uncertainty lingering in her gaze before she shrugged and nodded. “I’d never seen the man – well, what I thought was a man – before. He came in, he asked about the painting-“
“He didn’t sound odd?”
“What? No. I don’t… not that I remember.” It was clear he’d made a mistake in interrupting her when she added an irked, “You want me to tell you or not?”
“Again, my apologies. Please, continue.”
Another sigh, this time followed with a slight roll of her eyes. He could almost hear the words “young people” bashing against the inside of her skull. “As I said, he asked about the painting; I told him it was sold, then he just… grabbed it.” Her eyes flashed and she snapped a quick, “Yes, I know I shouldn’t have kept it out on display.”
Mathias simply blinked, opting to keep his mouth shut, which proved effective enough.
“He jumped out the window, Goon happened to be passing by…” She waved a hand in the air, and Mathias nodded. He didn’t need details of the event so much as what came after. “After he gutted the beast – through the Malhoa, I might add, the brute – there was a huge commotion. Big crowd, tons of people. No one cared about the painting, of course.” She sighed and muttered a bitter, “Not that they should have at that point.”
Shaking her head, she continued, moving forward and putting a hand on Mathias’ back, escorting him towards the window. “But I swear I saw a woman leaving the crowd with it.”
“Is there… anything special about it?” He allowed himself to be guided up to the point just before stepping out before he turned on her with his quiet question, brows raised and bright eyes plainly curious.
“Not… no, not particularly.” Her brow furrowed for a moment. “Though… the frame is made of ebony. If it’s undamaged, that would still fetch quite a price, now that I think about it. Damn.”
“Do you have any idea who the woman was? What she looked like? Where she was headed?” To avoid pushing the woman too far, he carefully ducked under the jagged, splintered remains of the window’s edges, effectively exiting the establishment, though he lingered right outside.
“Hm?” Preoccupied with what she’d said before, the woman offered him a confused frown before she remembered herself. “Who? Oh, no.” She itched at the bottom of her chin, expression thoughtful with memory. “But she had… long hair. Sort of… blonde-brown. About the same height as you, actually, and…” A trill or two of pause passed before she shook her head, “No… that’s all I can remember about what she looked like.” Pointing down the street she added, “She was headed that way though, more toward Shanty than anywhere in the Gleam I can think of.”
“Again, thank you for your assistance. You have been extremely helpful.” Polite and warm, he showed his teeth in a grin.
She returned the gesture with a dismissive wave of her hand. “Now get.”
