The lady gave her assent and Ashaad led the way out of the shop, onto Lowtown’s noisy streets. He combed the block from the steps, trying and failing to spot the Coterie’s watchers. They wouldn’t know the significance of his weapons, how well they had him pinned in place.
Or maybe they did – because there came no shouting, no sudden flurries of movement, no crossbow bolts out of the shadows. He shot an uncertain glance back at the lady, then fell into place a half-step behind her. After all, he had no idea where she wished to go.
She was right, though. It was nice, feeling the full force of the morning sun warm his back as he stretched his legs. He’d been cooped up too long, first on the ship and now in the smith’s shop. Eventually, he dared to make conversation, attention fixing on the ring around her neck. At first, he’d thought it a rather plain piece of jewelry, not particularly valuable or eye-catching.
But it didn’t fit the story forming in his head. Slaves didn’t choose to wear ornamentation. And she moved like she had a destination in mind, no matter his previous doubts on that.
“I knew the Vints built Kirkwall, but I didn’t realize the Marchers had picked up all their dirty habits.” The Hanged Man loomed ahead, with its gruesome sign. Ashaad looked from it to her, plainly confused with a touch of color rising in his cheeks. If he’d meant to abandon her to the wolves he need not have walked with her. He didn’t want to see her devoured.
But to insist beyond a clear dismissal went from gentlemanly to predator. Maker damn it all.
“If you’re sure, Miss. But be careful.” Ash swallowed hard and nodded his head, then turned on his heel. Perhaps the old man wouldn't even notice he'd gone missing.
@Primrose Clery
Or maybe they did – because there came no shouting, no sudden flurries of movement, no crossbow bolts out of the shadows. He shot an uncertain glance back at the lady, then fell into place a half-step behind her. After all, he had no idea where she wished to go.
She was right, though. It was nice, feeling the full force of the morning sun warm his back as he stretched his legs. He’d been cooped up too long, first on the ship and now in the smith’s shop. Eventually, he dared to make conversation, attention fixing on the ring around her neck. At first, he’d thought it a rather plain piece of jewelry, not particularly valuable or eye-catching.
But it didn’t fit the story forming in his head. Slaves didn’t choose to wear ornamentation. And she moved like she had a destination in mind, no matter his previous doubts on that.
“I knew the Vints built Kirkwall, but I didn’t realize the Marchers had picked up all their dirty habits.” The Hanged Man loomed ahead, with its gruesome sign. Ashaad looked from it to her, plainly confused with a touch of color rising in his cheeks. If he’d meant to abandon her to the wolves he need not have walked with her. He didn’t want to see her devoured.
But to insist beyond a clear dismissal went from gentlemanly to predator. Maker damn it all.
“If you’re sure, Miss. But be careful.” Ash swallowed hard and nodded his head, then turned on his heel. Perhaps the old man wouldn't even notice he'd gone missing.
@Primrose Clery
01-17-2025, 03:09 PM
