The Bolstoii Manse
Around 1:30 in the afternoon

Vlad Dmitrova pulled his waistcoat down over his expanding middle and brushed it with his plump fingers once before reaching up and pulling the small lever near the door, eliciting the chime of a bell inside the house.

This was a risky maneuver he recognized as he stood on the front step of the Bolstoii Manse waiting for someone to answer the door. If it failed and the true sequence of events were ever revealed to Toscani he could lose his position within the Hellkites if not more. But if it worked the results could be very rewarding. It was the hope for these rewards that led Vlad to taking on this risky endeavor.

After a few short moments the door opened and Vlad smiled up at the rather surprised looking high elf that greeted him. Corrisan as usual was dressed in blue velvet and had a small ledger pressed almost affectionately to his breast, the expression on his face, however was not usual.

“Lord Dmitrova… this is certainly not typical… I…”

Two chubby fingers rose to stop the elven man from continuing on. For years now Corrisan had been a paid informant for Vlad, not a member of the Hellkites by any stretch of the imagination, and likely Vlad was not the only one he sold his secrets to. Selling them on his master’s porch step, however, was certainly not protocol.

“I am here to see Lord Bolstoii, I realize I do not have an appointment but I believe that he will be most interested in what I have to say.”

This only caused the confusion to settle deeper in the angular visage of Corrisan. “I don’t understand.”

“I’m not asking you to understand slave! Announce me to your master before I lose my temper!” Vlad snapped back as the smile fell from his lips.

“Yes sir…” Corrisan dipped his head to Vlad curtly and worked the muscles in his face to hide any emotions he felt at that moment. The door opened wide and Corrisan stepped the side to allow Vlad to enter into the foyer. With practiced dignity the elf waved toward a plush chair. “If you will wait here a moment I will announce you.”

“Very well… please tell him it is important and cannot wait.” As if to prove that Vlad did not take the seat but instead stood in the foyer as Corrisan disappeared down a hallway.

Less than ten minutes later Styopa’s office was turning blue with cigar smoke while he and Vlad sat making pleasant small talk with each other.

“… of course if the murderer is not found by next week we might be rescheduling the gala. It will be a great disappointment and a great pain.” The cigar waggled in Styopa’s mouth as he spoke.

“Yes… about that…” Vlad’s cigar found its way between his pudgy fingers and he holds it between them. “I had hoped to talk to you about that. I have some information concerning Lady Evine’s murder. I was planning on going to the authorities with it, but I thought it might be prudent to you to hear it first…”

“Me? And why would I warrant such an honor?” A brow rose high on Styopa’s forehead.

“It involves you personally… think of it as a birthday present for your wife…”

“It involves me? Should I say thank you?”

“I would wait until you heard what I have to say.”

Styopa chewed on the cigar and nodded as he leaned back in his chair. “Alright… speak then.”

Dmitrova leaned back in his chair as well letting the cigar settle at his side. A bit of ash drifted to the floor but neither of them paid it much mind. At this moment Vlad held all the cards yet, a feeling which he relished and so held onto it until Styopa took a heavy pull from his own cigar and looked about ready to lose his patience.

“How well do you keep an eye on your slaves?” the almost mocking smile asked Styopa finally.

“Excuse me?!” the cigar lifted up into the air exaggeratedly.

“You’re slaves Lord Bolstoii, the elven scum you have purchased to run your household. Particularly one named Aileon.”

“Aileon? My stable boy?”

“Yes… your stable boy. Such a proper employment for one of those yellow eyed horse breed villains. But it probably allows him an element of freedom. I’ve found that freedom for his kind is not recommended. Had some trouble with one under my own employ recently.”

“I have never had any difficulties with Aileon…”

“Wrong Styopa. You have never noticed any difficulties with Aileon. And from my information neither has your daughter.”

The cigar jettisoned across the finely polished surface of Styopa’s desk. It somersaulted over itself leaving a trail of ash and a dark black mark across a parchment. Styopa himself had risen from his chair and threw his broad shadow over Vlad.

“I think you have outstayed your welcome Lord Dmitrova. How dare you even think of coming into my home and launching such hideous accusations at my daughter!?”

Vlad stared up at Bolstoii’s red face undisturbed, he had expected such a reaction. “Hideous as they may be Lord Bolstoii, they are true. So is the fact that when he is not busy pounding your daughter Aileon is poisoning or beheading the noble women of this city nearly on your very doorstep!” It was now Vlad’s turn to raise his voice. “Which is what I am planning to go to the authorities with. When I do the Imperial Guard will be on your house like maggots on a dead dog! They will pick through your life and discover everything there is to know Lord Bolstoii! They will learn that your daughter is not only being had by a grass munching point ear, but that he’s a murdering grass munching point ear! They might also learn that you like to go gallivanting around with Lady Hapley while her husband is at work, something that will make a great present for your wife on her birthday next week no doubt. They also might decide to go through your books, just for the hell of it. I’m not going to insult you further by going into what they might find there. I hope you had a good breakfast Lord Bolstoii because this is the end for you!” Vlad glared at Styopa as he started to push himself out of his chair.

As he rose he watched as Styopa considered what he had said and the cogs began to turn behind his eyes. Styopa’s eyes narrowed and his lips pulled closely together. “Sit back down… and let us discuss this.

And let me get someone else to join us as well if you don’t mind waiting a moment.”

“Absolutely” Vlad smiled and eased back down into his chair while Styopa went to the door. When he opened it he spoke to someone in the hall, Corrisan no doubt.

“Get Kharinya in here, now.”

Returning to his desk Styopa brushed the fallen ash off the papers and into the air as he settled back into his chair and brought his sharp eyes back to the man sitting in his office. “Now then… we will discuss this with Kharinya. If what she says backs up what you have suggested I will make it worth your while to leave the situation in my capable hands. If what she says does not back up what you’ve suggested… this will be the end of you.”

Vlad nodded calmly and brought his cigar to his lips before taking a long pull from it.

A beetle had been crawling across the worn stone. It felt its way down through the troughs made by the name of the dead with two bulbed antennae. Inch by inch it crept, but it was easier to look at than Nyx right now.

“I do,” he answered her question first, almost absently, “an old seamstress named Taellyn… She made this coat.”

“Cay…” her name whispered across the expanse to her but then was lost. The beetle wandered from the name to the dates as the silence wore on.

Look over at him Cay… just raise your eyes and look at him.

I can’t… I just can’t…

The beetle ran a circle around an ‘8’ lost in its never ending pattern. It seemed to almost panic the antennae rapidly scurrying over the ridges, no doubt sensing its own scent upon them now, realizing that it has traversed this section already, but unable to determine the way out. Circling around and around, caught inadvertently by its own misstep. A single slip of one of its tiny feet.

Over the panic of the small helpless creature she heard her name whispered again, but the sensation of it barely registered. The feeling of his fingers moving over her own and then touching her chin sunk into her nervous system much deeper than his voice did. His gentle coaxing rose her eyes up to his as a trapped bubble rises to the surface in a pool of water. The look he passed over her was not one she was familiar with.

“I can explain why I did not… how did you say? … feed you to the wolves…” The fingers at her chin traced along the line of her jaw, scarcely touching skin, feathered across her cheek…

Her breath held and the tendons that supported her pulled tightly as a ripple of tension moved through her, starting with her jaw and working its way down her body.

“But, I do not think it is an explanation that you are ready to hear, yes?”

No… oh Gods don’t… don’t say it… please…

It was only when his finger graced over the scar that destroyed the once gentle slope of her ear that she pulled back. The tendons in her neck pulling her head a fraction from his touch in a sudden reaction that threatened to snap those strong fibers.

“I have ignored it, even wished… no… fought… against it for what, I have come to realize of late, has been a long time. Even now, I almost find myself wishing that the explanation was not so clear… or that I could speak it and have you hear it for what it is… But it is… and I cannot… for fear that you would not.”

Don’t… because I won’t. I cannot. You simply do not understand Nyx. Perhaps you are different… but it doesn’t make the world different. It doesn’t make what I want different…

Her eyes stayed with him as he continued. They burned deeply into him reading what he dared not say to her out loud, but what he could not hide in those brightly lit eyes of his.

What if you were mistaken about what you want Cay? You can see what he wants. How is it so repulsive to you?

“I will tell you, though, that what I did, I would never have done for any other but one. And that one has been long amongst the stars… along with the someone else I once was…”

Lyssa… the word whispered through her head and she was uncertain if she had said it aloud or not, if she had the only response he gave was to finally turn his head and shake it as the subject fell off between them.

The world darkened for a moment as he curled his fingers around hers more and guided her hand back toward her own body with the change purse in it. Only when he spoke and she opened her eyes did she realize she had closed them at his touch. “Hang on to that,” Nyx grinned, “If Taellyn thinks that I have money, she will assuredly charge extra. You can buy us breakfast from it along the way, if you like.

No oranges, I’m guessing,” he winked to her and in return she gave him a quick nod to show she had heard him.

A cool northern wind was blowing against them as they walked out of the cemetery and she gulped in the air greedily. Hoping it would cool the burning in her soul and help still the fretful beating of her heart. It would be up to Nyx to break this silence and as they began to turn toward the street he did.

“I suppose you should tell me your thoughts for our shadowing of the Bolstoii whelp, today. I suppose I should keep a mind to the job at hand while I consider the one which presented itself once I discovered that there was a tunnel under the Hydra, no?”

“I…” the first attempt to speak came out small and squeaky and with a disgusted look across her features. Clearing her throat she tried again. “I actually had not planned to follow her. At least not right away. I imagine she is not an early riser, not that we are today either… but… Dmitrova will likely be informing someone of what I said and Aelion will be taken in. She’ll be useless as a subject once that happens. I wanted to go finish her job. Aelion wanted to know about cargo passing in and out of Avenon. I want to know why. Perhaps getting those manifests myself would shed some light upon the matter.

We might even be able to pull off another ruse, like the one you managed to pull off yesterday morning. Especially if this Taellyn has something appropriate for me to wear…”

The conversation concerning their plans for the day goes on while she follows him to the seamstress’s shop. Along the way she does stop and picks up an orange for him and a few meat pies for them to eat while they walk.

When they enter the tiny little shop a bell chimed overhead, bringing the silver eyes of an elder wood elf up to the couple. A smile wandered over the other woman’s lips and then reached her eyes as they found themselves looking into the golden beams of Nyx’s eyes.

“Ahhh… Steppe son, you return. Need that coat mended again? It is covered in blood, but I can fix it for you. Ohhh… and I see you brought a lady friend with you?” A garment is discarded and the woman rises, nearly dangerously slender yet with the strength of a willow switch.

“I can wash the blood out on my own… it is not I who needs your services but my partner here…”

Steppe son? Cay mused to herself and was contemplating this when she felt those silver eyes move over her.

“Well deary what is it that I can do for you?” Her head cocked slightly to the left. “Remarkable how well that cloak fits to you, that was a custom job…”

“I’m just borrowing…” again Cay’s voice held a bit of a squeak, clearing her throat she went on. “I need a dress. This one has been rather ruined I’m afraid.” Her arm swept the cloak open to reveal the stained remains of the purple dress she had been wearing. “Something nice, we have something to do… amongst the humans.”

“Ahhh…” Taellyn smiled at Cay warmly. “An Aragainar. You should want something in bright red then, yes?”

“N’uma!” The word came out louder and more suddenly than Cay liked, with it her brow knitted together tightly and her skin flushed. “Il’carad. Amin lanna carad umma. Sut ume lle sinta?”

“Amin sinta sai.” Taellyn grinned wider with her vague answer.

Cay suddenly realized that she had slipped fully into her native tongue and flushed darker in color. “Something in purple or blue if you have it… please.”

“hmm… yes… I see. Come along then dear, I think I have something for you. And you…” The older woman’s eyes moved to Nyx. “I know where all the pockets are on that jacket, if anything appears to be missing when I come back out I will empty out every last one of them before you leave here.” The grin stayed on her face though.

A moment later she had guided Cay out of the main room, leaving Nyx to settle against the wall and wait for them to return.

“You have not known Nyx that long have you?” Taellyn asked while she dug through a wall of garments.

“I… no… a week perhaps.” Her voice was still slightly unsteady. “How did you know that I was raised with the Aragainar?”

“It is not so hard. You speak like one, even in common. And the stitching on your dress, although it should be red.”

“I told you I don’t wear that color.”

“I heard… how is this deary?” Taellyn swung around and held a rich dark blue gown out to Cay.

“Oh… yes that should do.”

“I could mend what you have on as well if you would like.”

“No… I can. Thank you though. Umm… actually… have you any cushions?” a smile cracked at her lips as she said it.

“Pillows you mean?”

Cay nodded. “I’d like one and the dress, a cloak to match… and something for my head.”

“Alright deary… and you have the coins for this purchase?”

After a few minutes an acceptable price is negotiated and Taellyn leaves Cay in the back to change into the new dress. She comes out of the back room with a blue satin pillow edged with black velvet, which she hands to Nyx with a smirk upon her aged lips.

“From your partner. She said you needed one… She is an interesting peredhil. Like you she has severed the ties with who she is, and with those who could remind her of such.” She watched him carefully while she spoke. “I wonder if you see yourself when you look at her. And I wonder if that is why you look upon her with such sympathy and respect…”

Before he can respond Cay sweeps out of the back room. While she fails to recognize it properly her mixed blood does give her advantages sometimes. With the proper costuming she can easily be mistaken for either human or elf at a glance. The blue gown she wears now is much like the one that pulled and stuffed the human he had beheaded the previous morning. On Cayrimsa’s shape it has a much easier job. Layers of skirts billow out from her small waist as the bodice hugs her and lifts the swell of her bosom up. Tight sleeves show off her slender arms, one of which has his cloak folded over it as she now has a shorter blue cape to match the dress on. Her hair has been quickly pulled up in a way that it hides her ears and is held in place by a comb bearing a blue feather. She lacks the accessories that most noble humans would be dripping with, a detail that will hopefully be lost on those that get lost in her mere presence.

“Well… is my servant ready to accompany me on my errands this afternoon?” She speaks rather haughtily as she holds out his cloak for him. A slight smile plays with the corner of her lips though.

The coins were heavy in her hand and as he turned to mess with the stones she bore her eyes into his back. Spells danced across the membranes that interlocked her mind as her fingers crushed the leather bag and its contents into her palm.

I cannot begin to understand why you would have… 

Neither can I Cay… you didn’t want to listen to me last night, but now the questions that you ignored are coming from his mouth. Why did you spend the night tending to his broken body?

Because it should have been my body…

And then spent this morning tearing him down?

I’m tired… 

Before she could spit any of the spells she had planned at him he had disappeared out of the hole. 

“I’m tired…” she whispered to herself. With a shake of her head his cloak is pulled around her shoulders again, realizing that the blood stained dress might not be such a great thing to walk around in, especially with the current state of things. The next moment she crawls out of the hole herself, taking a moment to tug the stones back into place before rising fully and scanning the necropolis for his shadowy figure. 

His back greets her again, the swing of his mane expressing the pain and agitation in his step. Grimacing she squeezes the coins again then hurries to catch up.

“Nyx! Stop…” She watched the catch in his step as her voice carried his name over the whispers of the dead. Then watched as he stopped and turned his head back toward her, those golden eyes moving over her with suspicion and annoyance (and hope? Or was that vulnerability?). 

“Nyx…” she started when they stood before each other again, only now in the dingy daylight instead of the painted shadows of the crypt.

“I’m tired and I’m sore… and it wasn’t charity.” She holds up the bag of coins, opens it and pulls out what amounts to about twenty gold, which gets pocketed, before holding it on her palm toward him.

“I still need money for a dress, and my purse is back home.” She shrugged lightly then went on. “Look…” a heavy sigh is pushed out of her chest and she drags her eyes to a nearby headstone, “I don’t trust people… and they usually live up to my expectations. I waited in Dmitrova’s office for over an hour, listening to you scream down the hall. When they came back I was ready for them to drag me off even deeper into that pit of his. They didn’t. So you can’t explain why I’d help you… and I can’t explain why you didn’t feed me to the wolves. But you didn’t. So… you know a place I can get a decent dress? Isn’t something I usually shop for…” 

Her eyes still did not met his, instead she watched the tombstone and the way his cloak fluttered slightly against the purple of her ruined skirt. Her voice sounded tired and soft.