Private Tales An Answer After Dark

"Overwhelming... Yeah, I suppose it is." Crux grumbled, recalling the first time he'd gotten lost between the layered walls of the city. "There's people who've lived here for years who still get lost. I was one of them, for a long while."

As they neared the massive city, one could begin to make out the layered walls that separated its several districts. On the farthest side, opposite the gate they neared, stood the imposing Allirian Keep, acting as a benchmark for the impressive and innovative architecture that slowly dwindled to more modest structures the farther east one looked

"We'll be passing through the slums first." He cautioned Ria as they approached the gate to the marshy outskirts of the city. "Not too crowded, but keep your eyes open and your limbs in the carts. If the pickpockets don't get you, the muck of the marsh will."

The Shallows weren't actually all that bad, even had a fair few shops worth visiting. Even so, there was no telling what the abrasive folk living here might do to earn the ire of the shifter beside him. Last thing he needed was another corpse to add to the count.

Or maybe it was this frustrating new protective streak he was dealing with, wanting to shield her from harm. Gah, should have just had them walk the slums.

Illyria

He'd never seen somebody marvel at a place considered by many to be the armpit of the city; Illyria gazed in awe and wonder of the slums as if they were the glimmering gilded streets of Dornoch's innermost gardens. Crux supposed it made sense, though. Before now, that settlement by the portal stone had been the biggest mark of civilization she'd experienced.

It was almost cute, the way she sat straight as an arrow and took it all in, like an attentive student in class. Perhaps The Shallows were an ideal setting for her; not too crowded and robust, with a hint of familiarity in the sparser nature of the buildings.

Looking down at his hands, wrapped tightly around the reins, Crux grimaces once more at another tug in his chest. Every time he felt it, the knowledge of what it was grew.

That didn't mean he was any more used to it.

"Ria..." Crux brought the wagon to a slow stop, looking over in her general direction, but avoiding direct eye contact, wary of the warmth her gaze brought to his chest. "It gets much more crowded from here. Maybe we should stop here for a while, let you stretch your legs?"

It wasn't as though she couldn't take care of herself, and if anybody did try anything... Well, it wouldn't be the first conniving bastard he'd had to bury in the muck.

"Come on, I need to check something anyways."

Illyria

No sooner had Crux's feet hit the ground had Illyria pressed herself into his side, latching onto him as he circled the wagon towards the alleyway that the cat had darted into, between an old stonework building and what looked to be an abandoned shack, complete with frayed wooden boards protruding outwards, crooked and rusty nails having given up on maintaining their hold on the structure.

Again, there was that momentary tension as she held him, but it passed, far quicker than it would have even hours prior. A cautious hand rose to rest on Illyria's back, a show of both affection and protection from any who'd seek to harm her, of which there could be many in a place like this.

"Those cult freaks... the first one I spotted was loitering in this alleyway." Crux snarled, recalling the skinny little twig, how he'd nearly tripped over his own feet running from him. As they neared the alley, a small child, dirty and dressed in rags, slinked out from one of the holes in the dilapidated shack, eyes going wide as he noticed the couple approaching him. "I want to see what he was looking at, or for." He continued, ignoring the child until they stood almost directly in front of him.

Crux came to a stop in front of the boy, his hand tightening and lowering from Illyria's back as he reached for his waist, for the belt that held his whipblade. The boy stumbled back, ready to run as fast as his legs could carry him as the imposing figure drew from his waist...

His sack of coin.

"Watch the wagon, kid." Crux ordered, rather gruffly, and flipped a single gold piece in his direction. The boy was so skittish that he didn't catch the coin, and had to take a moment to find it, giving a quick, frightened nod before scrambling over to the cart. Crux turned his head to watch him go, before flashing the faintest of smirks to Ria. "If he asks about all the blood, we'll tell him you skinned a couple pigs with me."

Illyria

Crux could tell well how uncomfortable Illyria was without need for words; The tight grip of her fingers as they locked snugly with his own was a silent admission of her fear. While he'd never admit it, even Crux felt his pulse quicken, being so hot on the trail of something that had, through trickery or otherwise, bested him. There was a difference, a tangible one, between chasing prey, and chasing your own predator.

"There doesn't seem to be, but there's always a nook to miss, always a hole for a rat to squeeze into." Crux sneered, considering this little pack of scavengers who'd outsmarted him to be no more than that; vermin, to be sought out and stamped out. Still... even rats can have a vicious bite. "Stay close to me, Ria." He held her hand close as they entered the alleyway, slipping in between the two old structures.

It was, as Illyria had inferred, an unremarkable place. Aside from the refuse lining the sides of the thin byway, there wasn't much to look at. One side of the alley was broken and splintered wood; too jagged and damaged to move by hand, and certainly too dangerous to squeeze through unless one was small and slender, like the urchin from a moment ago. The other was solid brick, in fair condition given its place in the slums. It was, however, rife with peculiar markings that some with too much time and too little money would consider to be 'art'.

The wind gave a peculiar howl down the alley as Crux reached out to run a hand along the stone, the scowl almost seemed permanent on his lips.

"Do you smell anything?" He spoke to the woman beside him, "These freaks all wear similar cloth. I wouldn't be surprised if they have similar scents. Your nose is far better than mine." One of the many reasons he found himself thankful to have her here with him. Something about her presence, how reliable she'd proven herself...

It brought some security.

Illyria

Honestly, Crux wasn't completely sure what he'd hoped her to find, either. Illyria had superior senses, though, and he was counting on that to at least point him in a general direction. Perhaps he was winging it, but it simply wasn't in his nature to admit when he wasn't in complete control of a situation.

He had faith in Illyria, and she'd yet to let him down. This time was no different; Using senses of the wolf she so frequently took the form off, she set off down a random path along the alleyway, following a trail completely undetecable by Crux. A small smirk tugged at his mouth as he followed close behind, peering over her shoulder, trying to see if there was anything he could perceive.

It wasn't until she stopped suddenly in a rather innocuous spot in the center of the alley about halfway down that Crux realized just how sharp she was. Chiefly, because he saw absolutely nothing. It was just as dirty and unremarkable as the rest of the alley, and yet Illyria claimed the scent was most potent right here.

"Just... standing here? In some random alleyway in the slums?" The question seemed poised more to himself than to her, a muttered annoyance as he dropped to a knee and traced a finger along the ground. It didn't make sense-- Even in terms of crime, this part of the shallows was considered completely ordinary: So boring that even the low lives didn't notice it. "What are they, running a prayer circle and scenting their clothes? Why burnt..."

Something clicked, and Crux looked up from the floor, to the splintered and dilapidated building the child had slid out of. On first glance, he'd just thought it ruined by lack maintenance, but...

"This building wasn't like this the last time I was here... It's been torched. Look, there's scorch marks on the edges of the wood."

Illyria

The wise thing to do would have been to find an opening; To sneak inside without being detected and track who or whatever had concealed themselves within this shoddy excuse of a hideaway to question them, interrogate them if neccesarry. It was a shame then, that Crux had no intent of being wise. These people had embarrassed him, debased and imprisoned him.

If there was one of their number slumbering peacefully in this shithole, there would be no interrogation. Raising an arm, Crux grit his teeth as he sent a pulsing wave of stored magic through it. His skin ran black, only for a few seconds as the concentrated blast expelled from his palm and collided with the weakened wood with a thunderous crash.

Splinters flew about in all directions, clattering and cracking against wall and floor like hailstones. The building itself shifted a bit, threatening to collapse from the sudden change in it's weight and support. Thankfully that, at least, was averted. The gaping hole in it's side? Not so much.

"Take me to them." He snarled. "Now."

Illyria

Under any other circumstance Crux would have balked at the idea of using Ria as some glorified bloodhound. It mattered not if such tasks suited her talents, when he'd grown to see her as so much more than a tool, or the wolf she'd been when first they'd met. To Crux, she was equal, the first he'd considered such in all his life.

He would repay her service by giving her a front row seat when he ripped the fools who dared cross him limb from bloody limb. Even as they searched the dilapidated property, following the scent of life within, blackness pulsed across his skin with his heartbeat. Stored magic, twisted by the hate that feuled him, ready to be loosed upon whoever it was his Ria led him to.

At least, until he saw what it was she'd led him to.

A woman, dirtied and bruised, lay shivering in the pile of hay collected on the floor of the kitchen. Her clothes were ragged and worn, her hair matted and dirty. The color of Crux's skin quickly returned to normal, the muscles that had only moments ago been so tense with rage now softened as he looked down upon her.

"The owner, I assume."

Slowly, the woman turned her head to look up at them, fear glimmering in brown eyes hidden behind filthy black hair. Her voice was weak, and it trembled with nerves. "Y-you're not with them?" shakily lifting herself up to sit. "Wh-what do you w-want?"

Illyria

Crux briefly raised his brows at Illyria took initiative. She'd been content to be an aide until now, likely in no small part due to how out of her element she was. Crux knew there was a more commanding side to her though, one borne of the Wolf she'd spent so long in the shape of.

It was always a pleasure to see it come out.

As the pained woman recognized him, Crux's lip twitched. It was bad enough he'd been outsmarted and stolen away, but there had been witnesses? How annoying. Illyria suggested perhaps she was seen, and Crux nodded along. Even if a few days passed, the idea that she was targeted for witnessing an act she wasn't supposed to was far from the realm of impossibility.

Still, something irked him.

"Why take your son and leave you? Why do all of this damage..." Crux gestured to the ravaged home around them. "For a kidnapping?" Not that he expected this lady to have any answers. If she knew anything more, she'd have told them with the last few breaths she seemed to have left. Shrugging his shoulders with an indignant sigh, Crux didn't wait for answers. "Don't suppose you've any clue where they've taken him?

Briefly his eye flicked to the woman's gut.

"Or why it's a good idea to refuse help when it's offered?"

Illyria

She died, without another word.

There was some part of Crux, some sliver of humanity deep within him that felt a shred of remorse at her last experience being his incessant questioning. That he'd not even agreed to find her missing brat before death stole her away. It manifested itself as no more than a wince on his face, and a brief aversion of his gaze.

She was nothing. Nobody. No reason to care, and no reason to feel any semblance of guilt. So why, then, did he? Of course, he knew. It was the woman who turned to look at him now, a lover who had also become a conscience.

He gave only a minute nod, watching her from the corner of his eye as she left to scan what remained of the house. Briskly, he stepped back out of the hole they'd entered through and back out onto the streets of the Shallows.

The child still stood by their cart, leaning against it inconspicuously. Emerging from the alley, Crux snapped his fingers and whistled, before pointing away from the wagon and gesturing for him to leave with the nudge of his head. With a moment's hesitation, the youth stumbles away, before making tracks quicker than the tall brooding figure can change his mind.

By the time Illyria re-emerges, Crux is back in the seat.

"We shouldn't stay here. They were in that house recently, and that means they're keeping tabs on the section of the city." Crux sounded uncharacteristically grim as he leaned forward, staring into some middle distance that stretched out before him."I have more leads, more places to look. Besides..." He finally allowed himself a brief smirk. "Haven't even shown you off to the city proper yet, have I?"

Illyria