Private Tales Decampment at the Docks

[Muirin]

Muirin awoke in the sea-side jailhouse with quite possibly the worst hangover he’d ever experienced. His head felt ripe to split, and the strong scent of ocean mingling with a town’s waste didn’t help the headache. It felt as though hours had passed before his pain dulled enough for the mercenary to come to his senses. By then, the sky outside of his cell had turned an orange indicative of either sunrise or sunset, though he couldn’t tell which through the iron grate planted high in the prison’s walls. What few guards attended the jailhouse told him he was “a menace”, and that his sentence would be indefinite on grounds of “drunk and disorderly behavior”. Truth be told, he didn’t remember even a glint of the night before, but he wouldn’t be too surprised if they were telling the truth-- His bend for mirth and drink did often place him into situations such as this.

Nevertheless, he had to get out sooner rather than later. He didn’t have any crew to back him up this time around, and he’d rather not spend more than a day in some disheveled town’s run-down prison. Muirin spent the next hour pacing his cell, casing it for any potential weaknesses. As he paced, the sky grew brighter. At least that answered the morning or evening conundrum from before.

His holding cell was out of immediate sight of any guard stations, and the barred room across from his was vacant. What workers the jail had didn’t patrol terribly frequently, and Muirin knew he could make a break if he got his timing right. After a single guard passed his cell, the mercenary withdrew a thin lockpick and torsion wrench from where the duo pinned back his lengthy hair. Maybe the powers-that-be thought a drunkard wasn’t competent enough to pull a prison break, or maybe they were just sloppy. Whichever it was, Muirin was thankful to at least have some tools of his trade on hand. He approached the door of his cell only to hear approaching chatter-- A new arrival. The mercenary palmed his pair of illegal implements and pushed his newly freed hair back above his forehead, trying and failing to look as innocent as possible as shadows approached from around a corner down the hall.

 

[Rainie]

Lorraina Night was, currently, not having the best day. Oh, it had surely started out fine. She’d woken with a slight headache in a heap of pillows and silk sheets. Someone’s arm was thrown over her waist, and her own had gone numb as it pillowed someone else’s head. She extricated herself from her bedfellows and straightened up her red hair and mussed clothes in a vanity mirror.

Rainie, as Lorraina was called, had spent the prior evening entertaining for a noble woman’s lavish party. There had been wonderful food, drink, and titillating conversation. And, the guests and host had tipped exceedingly well.

Rainie swiped an unattended diamond ring off the vanity and slid it onto her own finger, casual as you please.

In the warm, yellow morning light, the bard gathered up her things into her embroidered knapsack. She toed on her enchanted shoes and found her lute halfway under the bed, and exited the bedchamber completely unnoticed.

She saw herself out through the kitchens, bidding the cook good morning and taking an apple at the kind man’s insistence. He was a younger man with inky black hair and light green eyes, and too handsome for his own good. Rainie gave him an appraising look and one of her sweetest smiles, then left the lavish plantation house to head back into town.

She wandered the morning market for a bit, picked up her order from the small leather shop, then slipped into a little tavern for some shade. She had been chatting with the barkeep, asking about gossip and possible work, when she realized she was being very closely examined. A stranger in common clothes was watching her with an intensity she unfortunately knew very, very well. She also recognized it wasn’t the good kind of intense look that she sometimes got.

If only she knew the amount of trouble she was actually in.

Rainie left the bar quickly after that, and melded with the crowd under the bright midmorning sun. She suspected she was being followed, but was not certain until she turned down a dead end alley by mistake. For, as she backtracked to get back to the street, she found her way blocked by two members of the city guard, and the plain clothed stranger from before.

The stranger had been a staff of the noble lady’s house, who had been told Rainie’s description by the young and handsome cook. Apparently, the house had been robbed in the night or early morning, and they were rounding up everyone from the party to question them.

That was when they noticed the ring.

There, in the mouth of that alley, Rainie had to suffer the humiliation of a public search of her belongings, where they found none of the reported stolen goods. Just her lacey underclothes, private letters, and questionable relics that looked vaguely necromantic, strewn all over the cobbles. Still, they had enough evidence to lock her up for questioning.

Never mind that Rainie most definitely hadn’t been the one to steal over three-thousand gold worth of gems, jewelry, and coin.

This time.

The only-somewhat-innocent thief was flabbergasted to find that nothing she tried worked. She’d never been in a bad spot she couldn’t talk her way out of before. No reasonable explanations, no smooth lies or apologies for the misunderstanding (in her sweetest voice), worked. Not even her tears had any effect on these stern and unforgiving guards, who seemed to almost tune her out completely.

Rainie’s odd purplish eyes grew wide the moment she realized she actually couldn’t schmooze her way out of this one. Her mouth clicked shut and she watched in utter amazement as one of the guards took out a pair of metal shackles. With numb disbelief, the thief found herself arrested.

On the way to the jailhouse, however, was when she heard the news that made her blood run cold.

“For your sake, miss, I hope you’re telling the truth. If we find where you sold those goods, you’ll be going to the gallows for the murder of the Lady Arnleigh.”

It was with shocked silence that Rainie followed the guards through the little town’s streets. Her heart felt like it had frozen in her chest. This was… actually one of the worst situations she had been in.

And she’d fought a dragon.

When she found herself blinking in the darkness of the guard barracks, her voice sprang back into her throat from wherever it had been frozen in silence.

“Gentlemen!” She ejaculated in a volume and pitch that startled everyone involved. Rainie cleared her throat. “Good sirs,” she began again, a bit shrill but now quieter. “As I’ve said, this has been just a huge misunderstanding. Really, this is actually… quite insane. Look at me, I’m not capable of such a heinous crime!”

They came to a stop outside a vacant cell. There was a tinkle of keys on a ring.

Rainie stared unseeingly at the pile of hay on the stone floor. And the wooden bucket. There was a steady drip of water that was creating a muddy puddle within.

The door swung open before her with a piercing creak. The guards removed her shackles, and patted down her person. Tears sprung in her eyes as hands pressed against her torso with long, lingering drags that didn’t seem entirely necessary.

The whole time she babbled, urging them to see sense, that this was ridiculous, the noble lady who had hosted that party was oh so nice and really they should reach out to her patron, perhaps they’d heard of her, she was a very wealthy and powerful elvish lady and would be very cross if something happened to Rainie. They removed all four of her hidden daggers, at least two pins, a tension wrench, a snake rake, and a wire hook from her pockets.

Then she was being ushered into the open cell and locked within. One of the guards, the kinder one who had not groped her so horribly, met her eyes finally and assured her that nothing had been officially decided yet, but they had to investigate.

Rainie looked to the other guard and felt a trail of cold down her spine. No. No, she knew better.

Someone would be hanged for this crime before the week was done.

The guards left. The jailhall was silent, save for the drip, drip, drip, drip of the leak in her cell.

Rainie hadn’t felt so small and hapless is at least a decade. She stood stock still for what seemed like ages, but was less than a minute. Just listening to the drip, drip, drip…

Then an anger like fire rose up in her that had her heart racing, face flushing, and teeth clenching in a furious growl. Unable to restrain her sudden all-encompassing frustration, she kicked savagely at the bars and bellowed a heartfelt curse of:

“FUCK!”

She sunk miserably to her knees and threaded her fingers through her frazzled red curls, wondering desperately what she was going to do to get out of this one. Just as she remembered the lockpicks sewn into her brasserie, she looked across the hall with wide eyes to meet the gaze of a rumpled fellow in the cell across from her.

Well, she’d certainly made a spectacle.

“Ah,” she said blandly. Her hands dropped into her lap and her face fell into a look of dull chagrin. “Hello.”

And with that, she uncaringly unlaced her blouse enough to reach her undergarments and tear the seams that hid her set of emergency picks. Satisfied that she in fact had them, she slid them into a pocket for easy access and laced her blouse back up.

Then she stood, dusted her knees, and leaned against the bars to check on the guards. But first, she met the gaze of the other prisoner with raised eyebrows. She stared at him with a meaningful look for a moment, then uttered, “Not a word.” Then turned her eyes down the hall.

 

[Muirin]

Muirin was no stranger to skulking. As a matter of fact, he could be an Olympic-grade skulker if such a sport were ever to exist, so it was without much difficulty that he pressed himself into the space between his hay-pile bed and the wall, throwing a few handfuls of the bedding over himself in the process. He did his best impression of a blacked-out drunk, keeping one eye half lolled open to take in a bead on his surroundings. A continual trickle of water flowed down the wall, slowly soaking through the back of the man's shirt and chilling his spine down to the bone. But alas, footsteps rebounded through his cell, heralding the impending arrival of some new jailbird, and he could not turn away from the primary source of his discomfort.

In spite of his preparation, the man still flinched as a female voice rang out through the jailhouse, shrill and high pitched and entirely unpleasant. She pleaded with her captors, claiming innocence of some accusation or another. The prone mercenary registered the trio coming to a stop at the cell directly across from him, and he cracked open both eyes to observe the scene. Just his luck that he would wind up right in some other inmate's line of sight-- She'd probably start making ultimatums, like, "If you don't break me out with you, I'll scream," or some other trouble like that.

The scoundrel watched as the guards gave her the customary pat-down, abating his breath to the point of near silence. The only sound one might have heard from his cell was the constant trickling of water down his spine and the slow, tense creaking of bone as his hands clenched into fists. Perhaps it was some deeply-seated sense of chivalry, or maybe he was just looking for a reason to get pissed, but this handsy guard's treatment of the mystery woman sparked some long forgotten anger in the scoundrel's belly.

It was around then, with his eyes ablaze and keenly focused, that Muirin realized just how much contraband they were pulling off of this stranger. More blades than one person would rationally need, and enough tools for thieving to make a guildmaster blush. Maybe he'd been wrong to profile this woman just yet.

One of the armored guards made an empty promise to the poor lass, saying that there was hope for her freedom yet. Muirin, however, had heard that same spiel one too many times before. Already, the grim vision of this aspiring thief swaying in the wind came to mind, unsummoned by the man's conscious thought yet arising all the same.

The guards finally left the poor woman to her cell after an introduction that had seemed much to long. Frankly, the scoundrel couldn't entirely blame them, given the kit she'd managed to smuggle in on her. Muirin arose from his hiding place, entirely the worse for wear with the back of his shirt soaked through until his skin showed faintly through the thin fabric. He made his way to the edge of his cell, leaning upon the bars with all the silence he'd mustered until then. An appraising expression forged its way across his face as he looked upon the woman, head screwed just slightly to one side.

The man's professionally cool demeanor was quickly shattered, though, as the stranger let loose a growl and thrashed at her surroundings. Muirin looked on in shock as she shouted with all the earnest rage of a lifelong mariner before sinking to the ground, transforming seamlessly from a whirlwind of fury to a pitiable mass of a trodden upon person. Through an extreme amount of mental strain, the mercenary managed to keep his pity from reaching his eyes, though his lips quirked into a slight frown of understanding.

It was then that Rainie's eyes fell upon the hot mess incarnate that was Muirin in that moment. Dark red hair fell about his head in a haphazard flop, more than long enough to hang at his shoulder on such an occasion that it's tied back. What clothing the guardsmen hadn't confiscated from him was in a similar state of disarray, off-white shirt stained to faint shades of yellow and brown at various points. Luckily, his pants seemed to be in fair condition, and his boots were no more worn out than when he'd pulled them on the previous day-- Or had it been two days?

The torchlight that illuminated the jailhouse reflected strangely off certain parts of the man's face, and it didn't take a genius to figure out why. Muirin looked as though he'd though it wise to headbutt a swordrack, going off of the scars that littered his otherwise handsome features. A long cut ran from the center of his forehead, down past his left eye. Another laceration went over the bridge of his nose, and a faint gouge showed on the right side of his upper lip. All of these wound had been long-since healed, but their marks still remained.

Muirin managed the woman's shock in stride, giving her a brief wave and a half smile. "Hello to you, 's well."

He didn't seem too keen to continue conversation unless she had anything more to say, but his stony facade was cracked once she began to unlace her blouse. Without a peep, he turned on his heels respectfully, clasping his hands at his front and letting her do whatever it was she had. He turned just in time to see the woman palm her spare picks into a pocket, cracking a grin at her cleverness. Truth be told, he felt a bit awful for having judged her so harshly upon first impressions alone; She was a professional, same as him.

Muirin leaned against the bars once more, flashing her a disarming grin. "Not a worry, mate. I won't sell y' out."

The man opted to keep his set of picks a secret-- After all, a thief thrives upon cunning. Even if he liked this peculiar woman, revealing his entire hand would do little to help him.

 

[Rainie]

She returned half a smile the other prisoner’s way with a distracted hum, then turned her eyes back down the hall. “Good man,” she said appreciatively.

Her head was buzzing from all the chaos as she tried to make sense of her situation. Too many thoughts were battering around in her skull. This was what she got for working so close to Alliria again, where was Uro'mel'lenak when you needed him, if she actually hung for this Eilasandree would level the whole town and then Rainie would have to spend the rest of her existence as a lich, brought into unlife by her own lover, she would never be able to even look at Faurosk again, how was she going to manage an escape even if she did get out of this cell…

Rainie felt a headache coming on. She breathed in deep through her nose and squinched her eyes shut for a moment, trying to recenter herself. She’d been through worse than this. She would find a way out. Remember the Thieves Guild was just as bad as this.

Seeking a distraction, she inspected her cell neighbor quickly. She could tell even in the dim light he was a bit of a mess, and looked as if he’d been lounging about the jail for days. His clothes were filthy and damp from the leaky cell. His greasy hair looked like it might be red, and his face was as scarred and tanned as Rainie’s was smooth and pale.

He looked broad and built, and without any more context than where he currently stood, could be anything from a farmer with a drinking problem, to a mercenary, to a sailor who was frequently on the wrong end of a blade.

Nothing about him really screamed ‘safe.’

From what she could see of the other cells, which was not much, it was likely just the two of them. The little seaside town had seemed quiet and quaint when she arrived, and it was likely that the events of the night prior would cause quite the uproar… Not to mention, a heightened presence of city guards.

She caught a glimpse of movement at the end of the hall and frowned. Should she wait for nightfall to attempt an escape? She heaved a heavy sigh and looked through the bars across the hall.

“Well,” she drawled, voice rasping from overuse, “what the hell are you in for, then?”

Muirin

 

[Muirin]

Well, the woman in the cell across from him seemed like she had some things to work through. Muirin filled the intermediary time with more sullen pacing, eyes slowly taking in the details of the glorified pig-sty that was his cell. The grate planted high into the wall would take a great deal of effort to ascend to, and even then, it would take more strength than he had to break through. He noted that the bars of the grate were far worse-off than those on the ground floor. Their altitude must have made them a pain to maintain.

Then there was the far more obvious route for egress, which was to bust the lock on his door and find a way out through the jailhouse proper. Whether or not he could even attempt such a feat relied wholly on the woman across the way, and the scoundrel wasn't quite trusting of her no matter how hypocritical that may have been. Muirin fixed her with a questioning look only to find her giving him with the classic up-and-down once over. He furrowed his brow at this, keen that she doesn't take him for some easily manipulated mark.

Perhaps the situation wasn't entirely fucked, though. This stranger had mentioned that her patron would be looking for her, and Muirin knew for a fact that wealthy nobles have more than enough pocket money to change a mercenary's life. Perhaps if he were to help out this lost, deceptive soul, he may just find the recompense he needed to get out of his rut.

She asked him a question, then. The usual 'what are you in for', embellished with a curse. "A piece of advice for you, friend," He gave the woman an amiable grin. "People don't actually go around asking that. But if you must know, I'm not exactly certain."

He gestured to his head with waggling fingers indicative of either spellcasting or fuzziness, it wasn't clear. "Either I got drunker than I've ever been in my life and did something regrettable, or somebody slipped a little something extra into my drink." His grin turned faintly embarrassed, then, and he shrugged with an air of utter nonchalance. "Frankly, I think I've made enough enemies in my time that somebody in this town probably wanted me locked up for awhile. Couldn't tell you who."

With a jaw-jutting nod in her direction, the mariner cocked an eyebrow. "And you, then... I think I can piece together what you're in for, but I have to ask- Are you actually innocent, or just putting up a show for the law?" Before she even opened her mouth, the scoundrel figured he knew what her answer would be. He just wanted to see what she'd say to him, one untrustworthy person to another.

 

[Rainie]

Rainie blinked when the prisoner told her people apparently do not, in fact, ask what other prisoners are in for. It broke through her bad mood and an unexpected laugh burst from her lips.

“What?! Really?” She snorted, quite unattractively. “How would I know? I don’t go around getting thrown in jail cells much, thank you kindly!” She chuckled a bit over this new information, nearly missing his playful grin.

In return, he told her he didn’t truly know what he was actually being charged with. Either too drunk or taken advantage of.

Rainie’s expression darkened. She’d know a bit about that.

He also admitted that he had made enough enemies to warrant someone wanting him to stew in jail for a bit.

A corner of her lips turned up and she bobbed her head in wry understanding. She’d know a bit about that too.

He jerked his chin at her and returned the question, in a sense. He thought he’d gathered what she was being charged with, and asked if she was actually innocent.

Rainie scoffed and threw up her hands on the other side of the bars, elbows propped on the cell doors. “Of course I am! Look at me!” She gestured vaguely to her slight form, all pale skin and red curls and violet silk skirts.

Then she noticed his critical look.

Backpedalling, she allowed an indignant hiss of, “Well, this time, then. It was a… wrong place, wrong time, wrong ring on my finger sort of situation.”

It was then that, internally, she cursed herself for her own self-confidence. Perhaps if her ego wasn’t so big, she’d think twice about brazenly wearing a swiped ring the same day she’d stolen it. Back when she was just a budding criminal, really just a prisoner (as she was again now, oh the irony), she would have never acted so boldly. She’d gotten too brave. And now she was being accused of murder...

She came up short for a second, reality crashing down on her. Her own neighbor didn’t remember his own drunken actions that had landed him in a jail cell.

Frantically, she replayed the events she could remember of the night prior. The singing, dancing, and music filled most of her memory. Some guests had asked for a private concert while they got...comfortable. She could remember nearly everything save for the events that landed her in the bed between them. The more tired she’d become, the less she remembered.

Could it be a gap?

Rather abruptly, she withdrew her arms from between the cell bars they were looped through and inspected her hands. Her fingernails were clean, filed, and smooth. Her fingers bore calluses from lute strings and bow strings, but nothing more. There was that same old scar on the back of her right hand, and the only thing to frown at was a few new freckles that had cropped up from sun exposure.

She had to be innocent. It must be true. She’d fallen into bed and went right to sleep. Her feet had been aching and her fingertips were rubbed raw from playing all night. There was no other explanation.

She’d never killed another person. Not in her whole life.

She shook her head. “I’m innocent…” She told herself and her cell neighbor in a small voice. “I didn’t kill that woman.”

Muirin

 

[Muirin]

Muirin didn't care for the fact that he was growing to like this woman. Maybe it was the terribly unladylike laugh or that she found him funny at all. This budding acquaintanceship didn't stop his critical glare, though, and he dissected her answer with all the care one might give a arachnid.

'Of course I am! Look at me!'

He quirked a brow at this, glancing momentarily down the hall to wear a pair of guards had to trudge off with her entire kit of thieving tools. With a quiet snort, he turned back to her in time for her addendum. Not this time? That seemed to be more truthful.

The scoundrel took a step away from his bars, crossing his arms over his chest and watching as Rainie retraced her steps through the previous night. His fingers drummed along his bicep absently as he took stock of their shared trouble, head rolling from side to side with eyes staring to middle space. This woman was evidently on a walking path with Death at her side, heading towards the gallows if no other suspects were found. From what he could gather, this was due to the murder of some noble or another. Truth be told, Muirin was seldom the sort to deal in politics and the paid mercenary work that came along with it. Hell, he was a hired tough-guy, doing awful things so frequently that the jobs seemed to all blend together, and even his hands were too clean for assassinations.

Perhaps he was judging the situation too quickly, though. Sure, the girl seemed innocent enough, but she was clearly the rougish sort who could make a living on deception alone. The man began to pace his cell once more, stroking his stubble in thought. He'd been planning on ditching this whole 'being jailed' thing, anyways, so what was the harm in taking this stranger along with him? Unless of course she was a contract killer, in which case he might get his throat slit for knowing too much...

The scoundrel was pulled from his hypothesizing when the woman across the way spoke up again, and his attention focused wholly on her. She spoke so quietly that it was almost hard to hear over the steady trickle of water in his cell and the maddening drip drip drip in hers, but the silence was very telling in the seconds that ensued.

"Alright, then." The man spoke up after a few moments of quiet, giving her a small smile of understanding. He'd been in her shoes in the past. Manipulated, deceived, used as a tool for another's gain and thrown out all the same. The utter mistreatment of it all might just be enough to break someone's heart. "I guess we'd better get you out of here."

The man slipped his single lockpick into his palm, turning it over absent mindedly between his thumb and forefinger. He'd forgotten that this may be somewhat of a reveal on his part, dismissing previous thoughts of keeping his proverbial hand hidden. His eyes cast one last wary glance down the hall, and he continued in a far more hushed tone. "What were you thinking, then? Slip out unseen, or take a more violent route out?"

Muirin gave the woman yet another toothy grin, ever playful in the face of terrible odds. "Truth be told, I'd quite like to crack a few of these buggers' skulls. Haven't seen a bite of food or drop of water that was coming down my walls, and it's making me more than a little pissed." He refrained from mentioning the guard's mistreatment of her, but there was a fire in his eyes that nodded to a deeper reason for violence than just being peckish.

 

[Rainie]

The bard found herself thrown for a loop when the man’s demeanor went from curious and mistrusting to asking her opinion on the best plan for their shared escape. Her hands, which had been hovering in front of her and open towards the ceiling, dropped slowly to her sides. She blinked at the bit of metal he was fidgeting with and recognized it immediately as a tool of her own trade.

Well, shit. She’d have to rethink her strategy.

Rainie turned a critical eye back on the man opposite her, squinting through both sets of bars. His grizzled features stood out the most, and his size. Everything about him screamed brute and not to be trusted. He smiled like he had a secret and his eyes seemed to almost burn with the promise of violence.

The thief hadn’t lived as long as she had by not trusting her instincts. And right now, her instincts were telling her she couldn’t trust this man as far as she could throw him.

But… he’d make for an excellent distraction, should she need him. From the beginning, she’d fully intended to break herself out and leave him without a care. Maybe leave him with a little lie to check out the situation then double back for him. But now she saw…. He could get himself out just fine. Perhaps he could be of some use to her.

Was this her just being cocky? What if all he wanted was her help to escape, then to do whatever it is he wanted to do with her and leave her dead in a ditch somewhere?

What if he killed Lady Arnleigh?

She dismissed that thought almost immediately. The man had clearly been locked up all night at least. And she hadn’t seen him at the party. A man like him would have stood out amongst the rich and well-mannered guests.

Then again… Rainie was noticing he did in fact have manners. Of a sort. She mulled over their conversation and found he seemed… rather nice. Untrusting and untrustworthy, but nice. Which, unfortunately, was good enough for her. She’d just make sure to keep one eye on him the entire time, and not do anything stupid like show her back.

“Ahh, unseen is… more my style.” She finally replied. “I don’t do well in close quarters.” She thought of her bow, and her new toy she’d gotten at the leather shop… Archery likely wouldn’t be the best choice for the winding and cramped barracks. Even if she somewhat wanted to put an arrow through the eye of the guard who had felt her up.

Goodness, that was violent. Rainie bit the inside of her cheek and inspected her
surroundings.

Seagulls could be heard through the barred window close to the ceiling. The bolts holding the frame into the stone looked large and sturdy, even if the bars themselves looked a bit weathered by saltwater. Rainie judged from the direction of the sun that she would be able to see the marina from her side.

“Just a moment,” she bade her new tentative ally.

She cinched the ties on her enchanted shoes tight and gave her shoulders a quick stretch. The cell was cramped and the walls were rough, fashioned out of cracked cement blocks. She could press both palms flat to either wall if she stretched out her arms.

It wouldn’t be easy, but she’d accomplished far crazier things. And if the quick way didn’t work, she could try the long way. She backed up as far as she could go until she felt the cell door behind her, then sprinted at the wall. Her feet made no noise at all as she crossed the floor and used her momentum to run up the wall itself.

She misjudged the distance horribly, and nearly fell. But only nearly. Nice.

She dangled for a moment, having managed to catch the very edge of the window frame with one hand. Thankfully, all her years of archery meant she was no slouch. Cursing under her breath, she used practically her arm strength alone to haul herself eye level with the window, feet scrabbling noiselessly on the stone to find purchase.

Blinking and blinded in the bright daylight beyond her dark cell, she hung there for half a minute to adjust and finally take in the scene below.

“Ah, just as I thought,” she muttered. Dock hands and sailors could be seen loading up longboat after longboat with supplies to deliver to the Caravell anchored off-shore. Louder, she declared: “I’m going to miss my boat if these lads don’t stop dilly-dallying.”

She released her deathgrip on the barred window and dropped to the floor with no more than a flutter of skirts. She brushed the flakes and dirt off her hands and hissed at the new soreness of her poor abused palms. A plan finally forming, she turned and went back to the door to squint at her new friend.

“You don’t remember being dragged in here,” she put together keenly. “So you don’t know the layout of the building, unless you get thrown in here frequently. Yes?” She raised her eyebrows at him.

“I suggest you wait here for a moment and keep watch,” she instructed, looking down the hallway and finding no movement. This could be her chance. She pulled her picks out of her pocket and went to work, hoping the man would remain alert while she was partially distracted. “I can do some reconnaissance and come back for you.”

She didn’t miss the irony that the statement wasn’t far off from her original plan. Only this time, she was not actually lying.

Muirin

 

[Muirin]

Muirin managed a half laugh when the woman claimed she wasn't much good in close quarters; he saw it as a bold claim for someone carrying four knives in her walking-about clothes. "Well, ma'am, I'll be sure to keep that in mind. Keep the baddies well and distracted."

The mercenary was fond of using the word baddies for purely ironic purposes, and it showed in his happy tone when he said it. Something about referring to the fellows who should be straight-edge on the side of 'the law' as such really struck a chord with him.

The woman asked him to bide his time for but a moment, and her impromptu partner took the time to cross the the back of his cell. There, he leaned back against the stone, crossing his arms over his chest and rejoicing as his shirt wet the wall. With one leg half crossed over the other and his boxy shoulders jutted out, he really wasn't trying to cut an intimidating figure, but some things just came naturally. In any case, his imposing figure was defused by the smile that came easily to his haggard features.

He sat back, trying not to show how impressed he was by the stranger's feat of acrobatics. The man did flinch momentarily, though, at the second she seemed to nearly slip. The woman managed to catch herself, going so far as to scrape her way up to the window to look out. "No need to show off, love." He said as she fell in a flutter of skirts and silent footfalls. "I certainly would've done the same, you know, if I weren't still nursing a headache." A bold faced lie, and one he knew she'd see through.

He walked back to the bars, hoping to meet as close as they could in spite of their respective barriers. After all, conspiracy felt so much more thrilling with proximity and whispers. The man looked a bit embarrassed when she rhetorically asked if he knew the building's layout. It was a strange expression on his usually hardened features, but it didn't seem entirely foreign. "Well, no, I've never been thrown in this specific joint before. Not to say I haven't been imprisoned before, but more so that I'm not quite from around here."

Muirin fixed Rainie with a look when she suggested he should stay behind. It was as though a frown tried to fight his smile for its place in the spotlight, and the two finally settled on a smirk that was only half as cheeky as it would usually be. "Aye, I'll keep an eye out." He couldn't entirely blame her-- He was hard to miss being as stocky as he was, and he was definitively more likely to talk and threaten his way through issues than sneak past them.

So he sat against the bars, casually holding on and peering up and down the hallway in turns. Thus far, no footsteps could be heard, but his ears did pick up the faint chatter of stationed guards over the dripping of water. "I'll give you 'til sunset, I think." He said quietly, giving the woman a cheeky smile. "Then I'll start screaming bloody murder that the assassin got away. So, do come back for me."

 

[Rainie]

A smile crept onto her face despite herself at his proposed time limit. “What a gentleman,” she purred distractedly, feeling one, two, two and a half tumblers click into place. If she actually decided to leave him behind, she’d be on a boat long before sunset. Still, it sounded almost like a profession of trust. Maybe.

Just as her wrists were beginning to cramp from the awkward position of picking the lock backwards, she felt her wrench give and the lock came free. She beamed in delight, relieved that at least her skills hadn’t slipped in this respect. She replaced her picks and only opened the gate about a foot, slowly and mindful of how loudly it had creaked earlier.

Satisfied that the door was open, she took a moment to pile up some straw and the empty bucket into a slumped human shape. She removed her cloak and her top layer of skirts, leaving her in just her leggings and shirt sleeves, and arranged the cloth to look like she may just be laying down sleeping. It wasn’t a spectacular job, but she was a bit pressed for time.

After sliding through the door sideways and pushing the door almost closed, she sent Muirin a wink before peering down the hallway. There was the way she’d come, where voices could be heard, and the dead end yonder.

Well, then. Here goes nothing.

She tossed a flippant little wave towards the other cell and sang, “Wait here and mind your headache~!” And then she was off.

Rainie took a bit of time to explore the barracks, moving quickly and effeciently. She was careful to not show herself before checking each cell, in case some unknown prisoner decided to give away her position.

In a small alcove she found a rickety barred window that looked like, if the bars were forced off, she herself could fit through. It would not help her much larger partner in escape, however. She also happened to find a trunk with belongings that likely belonged to some of the guardsmen or perhaps other prisoners. There was nothing of hers, or anything of real value. There was some clothing that was far too big for her, but may fit her aforementioned partner.

She grabbed a charcoal grey shirt and the dark blue cloak, tying the shirt around her waist and wearing the cloak for now to hopefully obscure her pale form and white blouse better. She tied her hair at the base of her skull with a leather thong and tucked it into the overlarge hood.

Finally she found the guard station. It was better lit than the rest of the jail, and she carefully toed along the shadows to get a better look. It was then that she discovered… Empty chairs. An empty table. A half drunk cup of water.

They wandered off? What, were they short staffed or something?

Wary and taut as a bowstring, she slowly edged into the light. The simple room was void of any guards, and she noticed with a bit of dismay that the key hook on the wall was barren of any keys. There was, however, noise coming from downstairs.

Onward, she supposed. She tip-toed down the stairwell, mindful of every step, knowing which areas were more likely to creak under her weight. As she reached the first landing, she could hear the muffled voices of the guards more clearly.

“Morely is out then, not gonna relieve us?” Grumbled one voice.

“Chief’s got everyone and their mother lookin’ for the goods. It’s just us for the day me thinks,” replied another.

“I’ll go out m’skull. Where’re those cards?”

Rainie wouldn’t risk peering around the corner on the off chance that it gave away her position. She sorely missed her corner mirror, but it was in her bag with the rest of her tools. She settled for watching the shadows on the wall of the two guardsmen as one got up to shuffle across the room, presumably looking for cards. She watched the shadow of the other pick up an object shaped mysteriously like a dagger.

“You know, I heard about a group of criminals in the city. They say Alliria’s got its very own Thieves Guild these days…”

“Yeah?”

“Do you reckon we may ‘ave got one of ‘em?”

Rainie watched the shadow hold up a rectangular object which unfolded in a trifold. She recognized it as her proper lockpick kit. Internally, she cursed colorfully. They were going through her things. Thoroughly.

“Huh,” grumbled the other voice. “Then I guess she’ll hang either way.”

Rainie swallowed against the anxiety that thought brought and reminded herself that she was already free of her cell at least.

She couldn’t see much from the landing, but she could see enough. Her eyes locked on a ring of keys hung on the wall opposite her, just past the wide open room that was the downstairs guard station. Passed this, she knew, were the barracks, and then the only entrance to the stone building. Her only way out.

With that, she crept back up the stairs to check up on her partner and report back what she’d found out.

Muirin

 

[Muirin]

Newly left to his own devices and snickering casually to himself, the scoundrel filled his time with more pacing and skulking, trying to figure out how the hell the woman had moved so silently. Even putting his best effort into moving as slowly and carefully as possible, there was still some sound to it, whether the faint rubbing of stone on the soles of his feet or the unbidden sounds of his joints. After a few minutes spent entertaining himself with the vain attempts, Muirin decided that perhaps his time was better spent trying to find his own way out of the cell. After all, he couldn't entirely trust that his strained ally wouldn't just cut and run.

So, he tried to replicate the same stunt Rainie had pulled not five minutes before, though he chose to do so with substantially less acrobatics. He gave brief run up from his cell door to the opposite wall, stepping once onto the wall before kicking upwards and grabbing a firm hold of the window's ledge. With more than a little bit of struggling, he wrenched himself up to eye level with the opening. The view outside wasn't spectacular in any way except for the sheer drop off beyond its grated barrier, falling at least thirty feet into a sparsely populated walkway.

Bugger. Even if he could find a way to blast through his wall, the drop would be hard and incredibly painful. Looked like the only way out was under the guards noses, and that didn't sit well with the less than stealthy mercenary. So, he struck a lean against the bars of his cell, keeping a lookout in both directions for anyone and everyone who might come walking past.

It was only a short wait before Rainie came back into sight, greeted by a wave and broad smile from Muirin. "Welcome back. Love that cloak on you, the blue really brings out your eyes."

"So, aside from a spot of fashion, what'd you find?" The man cocked an eyebrow at the woman, smiling in a lopsided fashion.

 

[Rainie]

A smile spread across her face despite herself at the brutish man’s ridiculous greeting. Alright, so he was a bit charming. She rolled her eyes to herself and went up to his cell door.

“Well, I have good news and I have bad news,” she began as she withdrew her remaining lockpicks. With a feverish glance over her shoulder towards the stairs, she set to work on Muirin’s lock. “The good news is, there are only two guards.” She flicked her gaze up to meet his, a playful smirk creeping upon her lips. “Perhaps for the whole day.”

One pin, two pins…

“The bad news,” she continued with another glance thrown down the hall, “is the rest of the guard will be patrolling the streets and checking with all the merchants and ships for the goods they think I stole.”

Three pins, four pins, free!

She threaded her fingers through the bars and fixed him with a firm look. “So, I may have an idea... But I’ll need your help.” And with that, she looked at his brawny arms with a smile.

“If I can lure the two of them up here, can you knock--” She made a motion not unlike banging two coconuts together, “--them out, and we can lock them in a cell?” She jerked her thumb over her shoulder at the empty cell across the hall.

It was not exactly unseen, but needs must when the Dark Ones drive...

Muirin

 

[Muirin]

Muirin was happy to have the woman back, and it showed in his smile; Being alone in a cell is cripplingly boring, after all. He listened attentively as she relayed what she'd learned on her little reconnaissance mission, watching as she deftly went to work on the lock that had held him in place for what had felt like days. Her skill with skulduggery was admirable, to say the least; and the mercenary was happy he wouldn't need to fumble his way through breaking out, thanks to her assistance.

He was a little bit caught off guard by the entirely brutish nature of her plan, though, but he didn't quite turn up his nose at the prospect. "So-- Wait, let me get this right. You want to lure them up to your cell, then I'll creep up and just-...?" He mimicked her crude hand gesture, not far from simply banging two coconuts together.

His gaze lingered on her in a steady stare, bordering between disbelief and utter respect. "It's, ah... Simple. Yeah, I'll warrant you that." There was a small shrug to his shoulders, and the man crossed back to the hay-filled corner of his cell, slinking into the corner to remain partially out of sight.

"On your mark, madam." The term of respect adopted more than a little cheek as it left the mercenary, and he gave the woman a wink to compliment his tone. While her plan was ingenious in its simplicity, he did have one idea to make it perhaps just a touch more prone to success. And so he focused his energy inwards, drawing on all the anger and humiliation that came with being locked up for fun he couldn't even remember.

There was the faintest crackling of growing tension that lingered in the air around the scoundrel, and those with a keen nose could pick up the definite scent of ozone as it gradually filtered out through the jailhouse. Oh, he'd have fun with this plan.

 

[Rainie]

Rainie straightened her shoulders at being told her plan was simple, and gave her accomplice a teasingly haunty smirk. “Well, try not to forget your part, then. You have the starring role, really. Try not to forget your lines.”

And with a ridiculous stage bow, she swept back into her own cell and retrieved her clothing, which she then dumped into the alcove she’d found earlier. She left the cell door wide open, giving free access to whoever may come tumbling through.

With a final meaningful look at the brooding man in his unlocked cell, she slipped down the hallway and down the first set of stairs. She took barely a breath to ascertain the positions of the two guards by the position of their shadows: heads bent and shoulders forward, likely over a game of cards.

Rainie took one breath, two breaths, steeled herself, and dashed down the last few stairs. She crossed the open room and made a mad grab for the keys hanging on the wall. The two guards looked up at the ruckus and stared straight at her. She couldn’t help but notice the crossbows resting not far from where the two sat.

”Hey!”

“Ha-ha!” Rainie laughed wildly, then rocketed back up the stairs, keys jingling in her hand.

She bolted back down the hallway, keys jingling, grinning madly. She blurred past Muirin’s cell and her own open one, all the way to the end of the dead end hallway. Once there, she turned and pressed her back against the wall, listening to the harried stomps on the stairs.

Heart beating in her throat, she waited, limbs coiled to dodge whatever way she needed to avoid a shot with a crossbow. While it wasn’t ideal, she did have confidence in her ability to make a run for it if the scuffle turned against her new accomplice. Breathing heavy, eyes wide, she waited. And sent a little prayer up to whoever may be listening.

Muirin

 

[Muirin]

Muirin waited as patiently as one could while anticipating the hair-raising adrenaline of violence, keeping his breath as steady as he could manage and remaining relatively motionless. He wasn't surprised to hear the first sounds of scuffling break out from down the hallway, a cacophony of mad laughter mingling with the high, startled cries of the two guards. His legs half-bent as the sounds of running grew closer, bracing to sprint out the door at the first sign of trouble.

The man's focus was so keen, in fact, that he almost failed to return the woman's giddy expression, but he luckily managed to flash her a grin of his own before she flew out of sight. It was only a few more seconds before the first guardsman's shadow came into sight from around the corner of the man's cell, and he erupted forwards in anticipation of the two fools' arrival.

Muirin checked shoulder first into his cell door, sending the entire assembly of metal bars flying open to crash noisily into the jailhouse's stone walls. His face flicked towards the guardsmen with a grin that must have been downright terrifying, and he didn't let his momentum end. "Hello, boys!" The scoundrel shouted in an unhinged sort of fury, spittle flying from his mouth. In two long strides, he was on top of the first guard. Muirin's right fist swung out towards the poor guard, colliding violently with the side of his head. The wild haymaker landed with a resounding CRACK not entirely unlike that of thunder, and a bright flash of blue light erupted from the point of contact.

The first guard fell half limp, not entirely unconscious but certainly reeling from the unexpected hit. The second guard was reasonably startled by this abrupt change of events, and fired an unaimed shot in the vague direction of his boxy assailant. The crossbow's bolt wiffled past on Muirin's left, giving him a superficial cut on the bicep before careening onward towards Rainie. Understandably pissed off by the pain that now shot through his non-dominant arm, the scoundrel grabbed his previous target by the scruff of his neck, hurling him towards the second guard. The pair took a tumble to the ground, knocking inelegantly into the stone grounds with a faint cracking sound.

Muirin slowly approached to find the first guard entirely unconscious, pinning his ally to the ground below him. The second guard was fumbling one-handed with his crossbow, trying desperately to load another bolt. The scoundrel let out a trio of 'tsk's, kicking the crossbow from his hands and taking a closer look at just who was still awake. With a small smirk of grim satisfaction, Muirin came to recognize the conscious guard as the fondler from before.

"Now, then, isn't this a bit of an upset? Hate to break it to you, mate-" The scoundrel gave the pinned guard a swift kick to the side of his knee, resulting in a sickening pop that twisted his shin forty five degrees to the side. "But I reckon you fucked with the wrong mark."

Without any sense of further ceremony, Muirin gripped both of the fallen men by the short hairs at the base of the skull, pulling their heads about a foot further apart. With all the strength he could muster, the scoundrel cracked the pair of coconuts together, silencing the cries of the second guard lamenting his newly bummed leg.

The one remaining man rose back to his full stature, puffing out labored breath after breath as he calmed down from his berserker level of anger. "Well, that settles that, then..." He cast a glance over his shoulder, giving the woman a broad grin. "How're you holding up back there, love? Hope I didn't spook you."

 

[Rainie]

The guards clamoured into view to see Rainie’s slight form pressed against the distant wall, all wide eyes and frozen smile on her face as she awaited their fate.

Surely enough, the brute form of her accomplice burst violently out of his open cell with a clang. Rainie watched in stunned silence as he knocked one guard clean off his feet with an accompanied crack of thunder and a flash of… blue light?

Hold on a moment...

There was something whistling through the air.

“Shit!”

Rainie slid down the wall and landed on the stone floor, hard. She groaned miserably at the surely bruised tailbone that she’d be sporting for a bit. A crossbow bolt had clanked into the wall above her head, and clattered somewhere off in a corner.

With mild interest, she watched a lock of severed red hair drift through the air in front of her nose.

A crack of bone interrupted her curious pondering and she snapped back to the situation at hand. Her brute had broken one of the guards’ legs, and they were on a fast track to their intended unconsciousness. He lifted the two of them up, and she saw just how strong he must be. Quite suddenly, the hall fell silent.

Rainie turned wide eyes on the broad form of her accomplice, who straightened up and seemed to roll his shoulders a bit. He turned a smile towards Rainie’s splayed form, and then checked up on her quite kindly.

There was a beat. She looked down once more just to check that the guards were in fact unmoving, then met his eyes again. Then, she drew her knees up and clapped in delight, cackling quite deliriously. “Oh, you beauty!”

Staggering up from her prone position, she brushed off her sore backside and joined him in the hall. She clasped his elbow familiarly and inspected the guards closely. Her eyes were on the brutally disfigured leg of one of them as she winced. “Astra bless me, that’s gotta hurt.”

After she’d looked her fill at the unfortunate guards (probably not feeling as bad as she should), she opened one of the cell doors wider and brandished her stolen keys. “Well, come on then, let’s lock ‘em up and get our things.”

Muirin

 

[Muirin]

The brute of a man smiled kindly at the woman's compliment to his handiwork, wiping his over his mouth to gather any of the spittle that may not have fired quite so far in his rabid shouting. He then stretched his arms experimentally at his sides, relieving the tension that had stored in his triceps with the faintest crackling of static. The scent of ozone and an oncoming storm began to subside, then, leaving the hall blanketed by its usual background scents mingling with the sanguinary smell of the two unconscious guardsmen.

Muirin was admittedly taken aback by the woman clasping his elbow, but the contact wasn't entirely unwelcome once he realized what it was. He gave her a subdued smile, still breathing a bit heavily from the effort of positively thrashing their shared opponents. The mercenary managed a small laugh in response to the guard's positively busted leg, giving a small shrug. "Well, he isn't complaining anymore."

Without complaint, the man stooped low and looped his arms through the pits of each guard in turn, taking two brief trips to drag them backwards into the cell he'd previously occupied. Before he locked them in for good, he gave each one a brief pat-down, pulling back a shared load of five crossbow bolts and a pair of small, straight knives. When Muirin left the cell, he flipped one of the knives to grasp it carefully by the blade. Without prompting, he extended the grip towards Rainie.

"Here, you might need this. And, ah-" He fixed her with that grin that had almost solidified its place on his features since they'd met. "I'm Muirin, by the way. Figured we're in this pretty deep, now, and names help folk feel at ease." They had just assaulted two officers of the law together, which was an abundantly jailable and even capital punishment worthy crime. Perhaps getting buddy-buddy to the level of exchanging names wouldn't be such a terrible idea.

 

[Rainie]

Rainie accepted the knife with a smile. She was of the belief that one could never have enough sharp things. She met Muirin’s smile with her own and patted the back of his hand in place of a proper handshake.

“Just lovely meeting you, Muirin, really,” she declared poshly, his name tripping over her tongue quite easily. “Please, call me Rainie. It’s been an utter pleasure.”

With that, she turned towards the still open cell that contained two prone, defenseless guards. She flipped the knife in her fingers and her smile turned into something wholly dangerous.

“Now, what are the odds these bastards are wearing pants under their breeches…” She mused idly to herself...


And that was the time she left two prison guards locked up, without their breeches, in the jail she later escaped from.


Trotting down the stairs, she untied the grey shirt and navy cloak from her person and passed them to Muirin.

“Here,” she offered. “You might not be as easily recognized, but a change of clothes wouldn’t hurt. Don’t want the city guards recognizing you too easily, in case anyone of them saw you.”

Muirin

 

[Muirin]

Muirin watched with an amused sort of horror as Rainie went about her dirty work. Sure, he'd bludgeoned and shocked the poor fuckers, but they weren't even conscious of their fates just yet.

Muirin was conscious, though. Conscious that one of the guardsmen had decided to take the day commando.


The scoundrel followed his new friend down the stairs, thankful for the directions she'd picked up during her previous shenanigans. He took what clothes she offered with a smile, looking them over with a cocked head. They weren't ideal, nor did they exactly suit his style, but the outfit would have to do. "Thanks, mate."

As the pair reached the bottom of the stairs, the man gripped the hem of his shirt and tore it upwards without much thought. The muscles of his back bunched like steel cables as he tossed the shorn shirt aside, and his shoulders rolled backwards lazily, rejoicing at their freedom from his still-soaked garment. Without another second wasted, he pulled the new, grayer shirt over his head, giving Rainie not so much as a passing glance- If she'd been admiring, he'd rather not know it.

The man held off on throwing the cloak over his shoulders, instead choosing to investigate the room where their previous adversaries had been playing cards. "I don't suppose you saw where they were storing our shit, did you? I appreciate your gifts, but I'd like to see if I could reclaim my jacket at the very least."

He crossed the room to the table near its center, looking at where two hands of cards had been cast off to chase Rainie not a few minutes before. The scoundrel scooped up what betting money there had been, palming it swiftly into his pocket.

 

[Rainie]

Rainie did, in fact, admire the fairly impressive back of Muirin when he so carelessly shed his filthy shirt. She did so with a slight smirk of one who had likely seen far too many people in various states of undress and, yet, still managed to enjoy it.

With a mental shrug, she ceased her leering and began to search the room. Rummaging through a chest, she called over her shoulder, “Jacket? What color?” From the chest, she unearthed her bow and quiver, and she expelled a happy sigh at being reunited.

She did find a rather nice jacket amongst the other random items. The fabric was black and sturdy, and the garment was rather well made, with nice embroidery. Being the daughter of a seamstress, she was a good judge of these things. It looked like it could be a soldier's or a sailor's coat. She judged it would be about Muirin's size. She draped it over a chair and said, "Well, if this isn't yours, you still may want to consider keeping it. You'd look rather dashing in it, I'd say!" She winked and went back to searching.

She eventually discovered her bag tossed in a corner, everything thoroughly out of its place. She grumbled and checked the contents to find all her coin missing.

“Typical,” she groused, then started going through a chest of drawers in search of where they may have stashed it. "If you find a coin purse with two red beads on it, it's mine."

Muirin

 

[Muirin]

Muirin left the gambling table a slightly wealthier man, roaming to the walls where he stumbled upon an undisturbed chest. "It's, ah... Black, like coals." He deftly threw the trunk open and began rummaging through its haul, pocketing a slightly beaded coin purse before finding what he was after. The man produced a long sash from the chest. It was the deep crimson of bloodied moon's darkest portions, and a leather scabbard was sewn onto its length towards one of the sash's edges. The scabbard, however, was notably empty.

"Fuckin' gowls..." The scoundrel trailed off pointlessly, leaving the rest of the trunk's contents relatively undisturbed. It would seem that Rainie had discovered his second most prized possession and left it hanging on the back of a chair. He plucked the jacket from its perch, slapping the dust and dirt off of its hardy shoulders before slinging it on. "This would be the one, love. Much appreciated."

Muirin then tied the sash around his waist on the outside of his jacket, drawing it tight after giving it two spins around his torso. He tied the lengthy fabric on at his hip in a practiced motion, leaving the artful knot on his flank opposite of the empty scabbard. Something felt off in his balance, and the man briefly lamented the missing weight of his favorite blade before getting back to searching.

The scoundrel crossed the room to where a weapon rack stood against the wall. He crossed its length, running his hand over the hilts of identical arming sword after arming sword. The guards of this dump should really up their arsenal. Eventually, he caught a bronze gleam out of the corner of his eye, stooping low to investigate its source. To his surprise, he found the saber he'd carried out to town the night he got arrested, wedged unceremoniously behind the guards' sameish weaponry.

His large hand slipped through the blade's handguard, almost perfectly fitted to the proportions of Muirin's fist. He rose slowly, meaningfully to his feet, holding the bare blade aloft to a nearby window where it perfectly caught the light. "At last! My arm is-- Oh, fuck me, what's the quote again?"

Without wasting any more time, he slipped the saber back into its scabbard, noting that the shredded rope of his abandoned peace-tie was still present. Muirin took three quick steps before he was at Rainie's side once more, extending her the coin purse he'd, ahem, commandeered at the beginning of their search. "Here you are. I, ahm, found this."

In the moment, he cut the very image of pirate fashion. One hand rested elegantly on the pommel of his sword, while the other delicately clutched the purse in Rainie's direction. His charcoal jacket hugged tightly around his waist, emphasizing the sheer broadness of his shoulders and cutting an immediately imposing silhouette. The tassels and fixings of his jacket which were at one point the color of gold coins had dipped to a bronze tone over the years of use, complimenting well the grip of his far better maintained weapon. "And by 'found', I mean 'I stole it before I knew it was yours."

There was that sheepish grin again, a perfect anathema to his fashionably threatening demeanor. "Sorry."

 

[Rainie]

Rainie was caught in the middle of smugly sliding a diamond ring on her finger when Muirin returned her rescued purse. She glanced up and was struck momentarily by the visage he cut in that coat, sword on his hip, grin on his face. He looked... well, he looked like a pirate. A handsome one, at least. More handsome than the ones she'd met.

What was his name? Bradnar or something? There was a song in the back of her head, but it'd been ages since she'd heard or sang it.

"Told you you'd look dashing," she commented. She tweaked the end of his sleeve between two fingers before reclaiming her coin purse. That was nearly everything set to rights, but she didn't have time to organize properly. Was she missing a pair of undergarments? Oh, well.

Wait.


Oh, she'd rather not think about that.

She withdrew a patterned blue scarf from her bag and deftly tied it as a head wrap, tucking her red hair in completely. She stuffed her violet skirts into her bag and pulled her black cloak tight over her shoulders. Hood up, bag, bow and quiver secured, she realized suddenly that something was missing.

Her gaze fell on her lute, carelessly leaned against the wall. "Ah-ha!" She rushed over and swiped it up. "And that's everything. Shall we head out together, or separate?" She looked over to Muirin as a thought occurred to her. "And what are your plans after this? Surely you can't stay in town. Those guards think you're an accomplice to a thief and/or murderer..."

Her gaze darted off to the side and she bit her lip, sheepish. That was sort of her fault. Actually, completely her fault. "Sorry... by the way."

Muirin

 

[Muirin]

Muirin retracted slightly at the unbidden tweaking of his sleeve, but his smile never faltered. She was a beautiful woman after all, even if she might be a political assassin, and the scoundrel somewhat appreciated her continued admiration.

The mercenary threw his recently acquired cloak over his shoulders, drawing it shut in the front and throwing the hood over his head. The tail end of the cape was pushed out rather suspiciously by the tip of his saber, but he'd just have to hope no guardsmen would notice.

He watched as Rainie put on her slightly more elaborate disguise, half disappointed to see her cloak obscure what favors her leggings did for her. Nevertheless, he managed a hearty laugh as she all but ran to reclaim her lute, raising an eyebrow to her. "So, what, then? You're an entertainer *and* a thief? Bleedin' Jill-of-All-Trades, right here."

In response to her questions, though, he dropped the grin to a smile and gave her a shrug. "You're the one they'll be looking for, love, so I'd say we'd better head out together. They'll expect y'to be alone, and worst comes to worst-" He made the familiar gesture of cracking two skulls-- Er, two coconuts together. "-I might serve a good distraction."

"As far as my plans, I know of a bar 'round here frequented by smugglers. Figure if there's any ship I can get away on, it'll be one o' there's." He fixed Rainie with a level look, then, smirking devilishly. "If you're seeking passage to Garramarisma or Elbion, I guess I could book you passage, too."

His hand went forwards with intent, resting gently on her shoulder. "And, hey, no need to apologize, mate. I think we make a great team."

 

[Rainie]

Rainie barely withheld herself from flinching at the unexpected touch. Usually she was the tactile one. She tried to laugh it off with a good natured smile and reached up to pat the back of his hand.

“I’d have to agree. That was a neat trick with the lightning, too. Forget distraction, can I just point you at everyone who wants to arrest me?” She pulled back and pressed the untouched apple from that morning up into his outstretched hand, making sure he closed his fingers around it.

“And bar, you say? I’ll buy you a drink if I make it all the way there without fashionable new bracelets.” Rainie pressed her wrists together in a mime of ‘new fashionable bracelets,’ and began edging towards the hall, glancing surreptitiously into each of the barracks as she did. “Because if I remember correctly, you need a meal, and let’s just say I need a drink. What time is it anyway?” She squinted at a nearby window and tried to gauge the angle of the sun.

She checked to make sure Muirin was following her with a smile. “And Elbion may not be the best plan. If we want to avoid trouble, that is. For now, anyway. What was the other place you mentioned? I’ve never been.”

She peered through the window set on the front door. No guards could be seen coming up the path. A seagull flew overhead, casting a shadow on the ground.

“Clear,” she declared, then stretched out her hand for Muirin’s elbow. “Ready?”

 

[Muirin]

Muirin gave a hearty laugh, taking the apple in hand before palming it quickly under his cloak. "You keep up with the sneaking and lockpicking, and yeah, I reckon I can keep the path clear for you."

He smirked at her offer of a drink, nodding in time with his steps as he followed beside her towards the hall. "I'd appreciate a drink and a meal to be sure, yeah. Might edge off that rum shit, though-- Too sweet once it's all you have." His eyes fixed the window through squinted lids, trying to gauge the position of the sun in the eastern sky. "An' I'd say were only a few strokes til midday. Markets'll be crowded soon enough, if you want to hide in plain sight."

The scoundrel fixed his thieving new friend with an amused look, cocking his head to the side-- For someone so good at skulduggery, he'd have guessed she'd be familiar with the smuggler's haven that was the Bayou. "Garramarisma, love. Swampy island down to the south of here a way's. Covered with insects and predators keen to take a couple pounds of flesh off o' you, but it's the biggest haven for disreputable folks like your truly."

He planted his elbow carefully into her offered hand and gave her a small nod, walking close by her side for security purposes only. Most definitely.

"Don't get me wrong, it's a terrible place, but with a veritable conduit like me at your side, the bug won't bug us much." He donned a cheeky smirk, and the pair continued down the open road, undisturbed thus far by the forces of the law.