Fable - Ask The Smallest Danger

[Fennec]

"Your Occlumency trials have progressed well."

Though the dungeons of the Academy had grown a bit emptier and quieter since the Revolution, there were a few chambers still in regular use even now. One such room most all of the students had grown intimately familiar with over their years here.

"It is time for you to begin making strides to the next level of your power."

Proctor Harkenov was the source of many an Initiate's worst fears and nightmares, given the hideous nature and power of her magic. She was a woman of the Old Ways, honed and sharpened against the edge of kill-or-be-killed, forged into a weapon that in her prime few had been powerful enough to contend with. Yet in her days of greatness, someone had, and Ilyeva Harkenov slipped from her climb to the throne and title of Archon just short of the seat.

Now she honed and sharpened the new generations in hopes that one day, one of them would be as lethal as she had once been.

"Here is your next target," a folded piece of parchment passed between hands, "and you will be working with a partner. There is to be not a single shred of evidence remaining when you are finished, do I make myself clear?"

Fennec briefly read the missive on the parchment, folded the paper and slipped it up her sleeve into an inner pocket. She nodded once.

"Now go."


It was late evening by the time Fennec reached the stables of the Academy. There she found her small destrier already tacked and waiting next to another small horse. Though she had no idea who it was Harkenov had partnered her with, the state of the other mount gave her a clue. She frowned in distaste but quickly went about stocking her saddlebags with the necessary supplies for the next two weeks. Where this mission was taking her wouldn't lend well to resupply, she could only hope her partner showed up as prepared as she did.

Delilah Bryndel

 

[Delilah Bryndel]

Fennec likely would have already finished stocking her saddlebags and otherwise preparing by the time her partner finally saw fit to arrive, her appearance heralded by the anxious shifting of the destrier almost a full minute before her footsteps could be heard. Most animals didn't care much for Delilah. Not that this really came as a surprise; after all, most people didn't care much for Delilah, either.

When the tiny girl in question finally strolled far-too-leisurely into view, the last fading dregs of the afternoon sun were nearly spent. Her wine-colored lips twisted into something of a smirk that was barely visible in the last dregs of the evening light and her one eye glinting with lazy violet mischief—her own unfriendly version of a welcoming smile. "Heya, Spook. Fancy meetin' you here."

The dry words didn't inspire any more confidence than the sight of the shaggy, ill-kept Fell pony (the only mount both small enough for her and patient enough to not throw a fit when she rode it) with its unpacked bags and tangled mane had when Fennec first arrived. No pack or other visible supplies, no apparent weaponry, no sign she hadn't just wandered out here for a stroll. It was a wonder the one-eyed girl had even bothered to sling on that ratty, high-collared floor-length coat she liked so much.

Fennec

 

[Fennec]

Though generally one to follow orders, even Fennec Vel Olera had her limits. Patience being of limited supply and considered more of a forced habit than a virtue, she'd been ten seconds away from saying fuck it and leaving to tend to this mission on her own. As it was, Delilah showed up with three seconds to spare.

Spook set an unimpressed stare upon the girl from atop her destrier and gave her a quick visual once-over. There was a pinch of offense in the settling realization that her partner for the next two weeks was her.

This was absurd on levels she hadn't the vocabulary or the signs to express. So instead of trying to do so, she buckled a look of disgust upon her painted face, reined her horse about and kicked it into a clipped canter off down the road. Delilah could make the effort to keep up or get left behind.

 

[Delilah Bryndel]

For a moment, Delilah stayed where she stood, pouting after the dust left in her compatriot's wake in mock disappointment. As soon as she was out of sight, however, the one-eyed girl dropped the act, moving to her mount with that oddly decisive swiftness she only ever showed when she was alone. Even Delilah wasn't stupid enough to let a bit of fun get in the way of a mission—especially not one that would doubtless be even more fun once they got there anyway.

No need for time spent throwing together useless supplies. Delilah always traveled light; her mount could graze just fine, and the dried food she kept in her coat for emergencies would more than suffice to keep her on her feet. Not like she'd be able to taste the stuff, anyway. Swinging up into the saddle, the one-eyed girl put heel to side and urged the placid beast into a leisurely canter of its own. There was no point in wasting energy trying to catch up; Fells were built for stamina, and—as Delilah's pony wasn't weighed down by additional luggage—it was all but guaranteed that Fennec's mount would need to stop and rest first.

 

[Fennec]

Fennec's mount would traverse the darkened paths of the Vel Anirian countrysides by moonlight clear through the night and into the next day, stopping not to rest, but to disembark at the first location of the map included in her mission scroll.

It was a small cabin in the woods, located well off the beaten path and whose entry trail would be easily mistaken for a deer run were it not clearly marked for her to follow in ink on parchment. She'd dismounted at the treeline and lead her pony in on foot, pausing just beyond a clearing when she finally spied the house among the trees.

Before approaching, she checked her directions once more:

Knock thrice, wait, knock twice, wait, knock once.

Right. Simple enough.

Fennec stepped up to the door and did just as directed, then waited. She could hear the rustling of someone inside and before too long the door creaked open to reveal a man who looked as though he'd lived quite the hard life. He had the air about him of someone who felt they were owed something and it sure as hell wasn't a little girl in a black cloak with a painted face.

"The fuck are you?"

Fennec took her cue and dug a sealed envelope out of her mission pack to hand to him. He opened it, read the letter, then grunted as he looked back up, "Then who the fuck is that?"

 

[Delilah Bryndel]

It was fortunate that Delilah had been given her own copy of the map and accompanying instructions, else she likely never would have given the innocuous entrance to the disused trail a second glance. As it was, she almost completely missed it, riding straight past it for almost a full minute before belatedly realizing her error.

The one-eyed girl jerked on the reins awkwardly with a faint hiss of self-recrimination, earning a slightly reproachful stare from her usually impassive mount as he slowed and turned back. This sort of bungling wouldn't do at all; as entrenched in her carefully cultivated persona of vitriolic lassitude as she was, Delilah was under no illusions about Fennec's willingness to leave her behind if she failed to keep up.

Arriving at the entrance to the path for the second time in as many minutes, the initiate hesitated for no more than a brief second before riding directly in. It was at times like these that the tiny girl's diminutive frame worked to her advantage, letting her simply crouch closer to the back of her surefooted mount instead of having to dismount to proceed. Before overlong, the dim shadows of the hidden cabin loomed ahead in her sight; but a few steps closer, the faint silhouettes of Fennec and her destrier became clearly visible between the trees. As she approached, the cabin door swung open, revealing a grizzled figure within.

Well, that was a bit of a relief. Not that Delilah would ever admit such a thing, of course.

It took the one-eyed girl less time to slip back into character than it took her to dismount from the Fell. By the time her feet hit the ground, her lips had regained their characteristic wry twist, and her stance carried with it an air of indolent snark as she sauntered towards the cabin. The old man had just looked back up from reading the letter Fennec handed him when Delilah stepped out into the clearing.

Fennec took her cue and dug a sealed envelope out of her mission pack to hand to him. He opened it, read the letter, then grunted as he looked back up, "Then who the fuck is that?"

Oh, an already-irritable audience? This day was looking up already. Delilah dipped her chin in mock politeness, a vaguely malicious violet light flickering in her single eye. "Oh, don't mind me, codger. I'm just taggin' along t'keep this one outta trouble." The younger girl lashed a dry half-grin towards her fellow intiate as she straightened, revealing startlingly white teeth. "Go on, don't let me stop you. Looked like y'all were havin' fun."

 

[Fennec]

Could sense her arrival long before the waif made her presence known. Fennec turned a bemused glance aside when Delilah finally caught up. No words. A nonplussed look returned to the man at the door who seemed as though someone had taken a shit on his welcome matt and left it for him. Nose wrinkled, he slammed the door on them with a grumble.

Fennec's short hair fluttered about her face in the resulting wisp of wind, but she did not move from her spot, nor did she make any effort to turn and dignify Delilah's needling with a reaction. She would wait, as instructed.

 

[Delilah Bryndel]

Of course she wasn't surprised. Surprising Fennec was impossible. Oh, well, it was always worth a try. Delilah strolled her way up to Fennec's side, carrying with her the sickly-sweet, cloying reek of witherbalm as she drew close.

"Charming feller, ain't 'e?" There was another smell under the witherbalm: something bitter and sharp and stale, hard to pick out unless you'd had the misfortune of being in close proximity to the smaller girl more than a few times. "Always gotta love it when the locals are friendly." As she spoke, her fingers flickered briefly in a quick pattern, shielded from outside view by her voluminous coat.

It was a simple message, delivered with a practiced speed and clarity wholly incongruous with the girl's outwardly lackadaisical appearance: <alone?> At the same time, her single eye flicked towards the cabin, then back towards the treeline, before settling back on her fellow Initiate, leaving the particulars of the question implied. Lazy Delilah might be, but she was most certainly not stupid.