|
Post by Verdana on Dec 17, 2010 9:37:06 GMT -5
Bree's eyelids are getting decidedly droopy. It's stupid, and could quite possibly prove fatal, but she feels that she can't help it. She smothers a yawn as she reflects back on the activities of the day. Or past few days, actually. She has had a busy time of it. First there was the Crystal Nose affair. What a fiasco! She was pleasantly surprised to have made it out with only a fractured wrist. Then there was the Harlequin Ball (not the real one, of course. That won't happen for months yet) and the man in the bird mask. And then Mavori, which should have been ridiculously easy, but wasn't. Partly because of Wolf Boy, but mostly, she can admit in her sleepy state, because of her. Because she was a little sleep deprived.
Just a little. Just a... Just...
A hand touches her shoulder. Bree awakens with a start, eyes wide and alert in an instant, hand going to her knife. She looks up at Wolf Boy reproachfully. He should have known better. However, she removes her hand from her weapon. He's offering her the bed. How chivalrous, she says dryly, examining the room. The bed looks comfortable, but her paranoid (she calls it 'alert') eyes pick up the faults in its positioning almost instantly. It's against a wall, and at an angle from the door. It'd be far too easy to block her off. She shakes her head, and pats the hearth. Right here's fine by me, she assures him. And it is. Her inner cat couldn't think of anything better than stretching out in front of a fire.
She shifts her position so tha she's lying on her side, facing the fire. If it got too hot, she'd just turn over. She sits up, grabs her almost-dry cloak from the grate, and bundles it into a makeshift pillow under her head. She listens past the fire into the night. Still raining. Her inner cat tells her that it will ice up overnight and possibly snow. Hazardous footing and even colder weather. What fun. Not that she'd move now anyway. Too warm. Too contented. Food might be nice, but she's not starving. She ate three days ago.
Not looking at Chan, she can't help but say, And I can look after myself, thanks. No more of this 'you need your sleep' nonsense.
|
|
|
Post by Channeh on Dec 17, 2010 11:59:19 GMT -5
I nod and back away at her decision, I wouldn't be getting much sleep anyways. As you wish... I murmmer before putting the extra linens away. Once I was sure she was dead asleep(as much as an assassin could be) I tiptoe to the door and lay my rug down to the side of it. Sighing softly, I make sure she's asleep once more before stripping off the soaked and filthy pants I wore before creeping over and putting them next to the hearth without disturbing her so they could dry. Walking back over to my rug, I shift into my wolf form, pace in a circle and then lay down on the rug. It was warm from sitting by the fire but I didn't let myself get too comfortable. Instead, I sit alert all night and into the morning to watch and make sure nothing happened to my, ahem, guest, even though I was sure she could take care of herself. Rising once I could sense dawn approaching, I shift to my human form again, grab my pants and sneak out of the door to go get breakfast. Before I left however, I wrote a note out on a piece of parchment and left it on the nightstand, Went to go get food. It's nasty outside so unless you wish to be changed into a snow or even ice woman, I suggest you stay inside. If you wish to leave though, by all means leave. I'll know which choice you made when I get back...signed Chan.
|
|
|
Post by Verdana on Dec 17, 2010 12:38:13 GMT -5
Bree wakes up pleasantly warm and with an incredibly blocked nose. It's a strange, conflicting feeling. The pleasant and the horrible combined. She sist up, stretching and rubbing her eyes. She recalls exactly where she is, and is relieved that she doesn't have to smell the wet dog fug of bedraggled werewolf. She stretches again with a yawn. She feels a little achy, but all in all she's slept in worse places and in worse condition. She decides that she's in pretty good shape. She'll be in far better shape if she gets something to eat, though. Thinking of wet dog smell, where is the wolf, anyway?
She stands up, and meanders around the little home. It's cute, it's warm, but it's obviously not lived in. She's got to remember this place as a hide-out. She walks past the table without taking ample notice of the note. She backtracks, though, and reads it. She purses her lips. He's off to get food. How... No. Bree shakes her head as if to clear away the fuzzy familiar feeling that had cropped up in her head. No, she decides that this is all getting far too pleasant. Bree doesn't make friends. It's time to go.
She digs in the pockets of her dress, and withdraws a battered stick of charcoal. In her neat, prim and most importantly uninteresting handwriting, she scrawls, I am already an ice woman. She leaves the charcoal there, and dusts off her fingers. She picks up her cloak from the grate and throws it onto her shoulders. It's dry now, and feels nice and toasty as it folds around her flesh. Mmm. Yes, it's definitely time to go. She opens the door and trots out, moving fast to keep herself warm. She doesn't look back.
Until she arrives home, about half an hour later. She arrives at her worn front door, and puts her hands in her pockets to find her keys. Only, they're not there. Unbeknownst to her, her keys are lying in a neat pile in front of Chandresh's fire. What Bree knows is that she'll have to pick her lock. Again. She growls in frustration, and gets to work. She has an important job lined up in half an hour. She can't delay.
|
|
|
Post by Channeh on Dec 17, 2010 13:15:21 GMT -5
I didn't expect her to stay so it was no shocker when I walk into the little cabin and find not a wisp of her. Oh but wait. Setting the bundle of food I had down onto the bed, I go over and pick up the keys. Whoops, guess she forgot them. Or did she leave them here on purpose? The former option seemed most likely. Shrugging, I glance over at the parchment, read it and then toss it into the dying fire. Guess it was breakfast alone then. Once finished, I gather everything together and throw it in a bin before changing my clothing, even though it was snow and ice outside, the pack needed funds so I had planned to go perform today in the middle of the town. Dressing in the garb of a firebreather, which wasn't much considering clothes were bad when they were on fire, I pick up and pocket the left keys before heading out the door.
//In town//
The crowd ooh's and ah's at the talent I had learned over the years. Some point, others gasp but all in all it was a decent day's work. The heat of the flame ruptures from my mouth and overtop the heads of the people gathered, it misses them by inches. Children are calling for more and I make a nod down to the empty tin laying close the my feet. Dropping some coins in, they back up and I grin before launching off another attack of fireballs into the sky. Smoke curls in the wind and is swiftly blown away. While the whole time I was scanning the crowd with a merry twinkle in my eyes looking for Bree. For one, she needed her keys back, two, I wanted to get to know her a bit more, she seemed...interesting, to say the least.
|
|
|
Post by Verdana on Dec 17, 2010 13:38:18 GMT -5
The Genet gets into her house with very little trouble. One of the first things her father had taught her was how to pick a lock. Her locks are particularly good quality. However, nothing's Bree-proof. She slips in, throwing off her cloak. She's more irritated than put out of her way. She can't believe she has no keys again! Usually she breaks them or has them melted or bent out of shape. Losing them's far worse. It's careless. Bree can't abide carelessness, especially in herself. Growling under her breath, she goes into her small kitchen and checks the cupboards. Nothing good's in them, so she grabs a slightly withered apple and munches it as she heads to her bedroom. It's powdery, she notes with distaste, but it will keep the hunger at bay.
It takes her a few quick minutes to get changed, get her hair combed and presentable and compose herself mentally. It's been a rather taxing day. Taking a sip of a rather expensive but very effective tincture, she straightens her close-fitting leather outfit, takes a breath, and steps back outside. She turns around and puts her hand to her lock, before remembering that she has no keys. Rolling her eyes testily, she bends down and goes to work.
Locking a door with picks is much more difficult than unlocking one. However, Bree's a professional and sets out with only a minor delay in her schedule. She decides to stop past the food stalls in the market before she heads on to the antiques stalls. That's where she's supposed to meet her client. And so she does, with an earnestly blank expression on her face. She bypasses a firebreather, but does not stop. Such sights are common in the streets of Namaha's main city. She barely even brushes past the market stalls, but comes away holding a piping hot pie and a fresh apple. She wolfs them down with a speed that would astound a watcher, and then heads on to the dingy, dark stalls of the antique market.
It's amazing how many people think that that's a good place to have a meeting about an arranged death.
|
|