Rhian

Re: Rhian

Postby Rance » Wed Jun 25, 2014 1:16 am

Bloody hells, woman.

There he was; he came back almost instantaneously, as though his whole face was a buckler raised to deflect a sword that might pierce too closely to the tender spots beating and throbbing underneath that leather armor. It was in that moment, as she stood in front of him, that Gloria Wynsee recognized Serrus Belcaw for what he was: a ruse, a disguise, all layers of brash confidence draped over some other Serrus Belcaw that twisted and thrashed beneath--

Vulnerable was the word that flashed into her mind.

Soft meat like everybody else.

He turned toward the slums, where people were little more than blackened hems and overweighed shoulders. He started to walk. She stayed stationary. "A message, then. I'll write down what I can. I don't want you to go into this blind," she said. "Whatever information I can provide you, I will; likewise, Cherny and Noura--" he didn't know their faces; they were arbitrary names, "--might be able to tell you what they know."

And thank you, she might have said. She might have, except--

If we're plannin' t'be out an' about killin' them werefolk, I'll need t'get meself organized.

Serrus Belcaw wanted to be one thing: a sword. Or maybe a coin-purse, fatter and fatter, all contracts and business.

He sauntered away just as quickly as he had come. She was left standing there with her skirts tangled in the hooks of her remaining fingers. We're, he had said. A word that pierced between her ribs, poked and prodded at the burden in her abdomen. She watched him go until his dark figure dissolved amid the streets and the mud and the ramshackle buildings that bent over the ruddy avenues.
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Rance
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