Spring brought rain, and with rain, life. Roots drank deep from the cool waters and leaves soaked in the warm mists. While small creatures took shelter, the larger beasts plodded on, unperturbed by the rivulets that coursed across their fur, and striding steadily through the once-dry creekbeds that now overflowed.
At least, this is how it happened in the natural world. In the wilds, where life had been allowed to flourish. In the city, rain just meant wet. The hard stone buildings and cobblestone streets had turned slick and black in the deluge, and the streams that ran down the gutters held filth and sickness. The only beasts afoot were the horses, and they splashed through puddles to get their masters home and dry as quickly as possible.
Nathaira walked close to the buildings, sheltering beneath the shallow overhangs of their roofs. Her slight figure let her press in tightly, blending against the shadowing rock so that she appeared almost invisible. The woman she followed was not quite so threadlike, and she walked with her shawl huddled about her shoulders.
All that could be heard was the rain. It splattered loudly from rooftops and covered everything in a wash of indiscernible static. Against this backdrop, the woman stopped and looked around. Nathaira flattened herself against the wall, just half a block behind her prey. Two amber viper's eyes stared out from beneath the shadow of a hood. Satisfied that she was alone, the woman ducked into low cellar doors.
Nathaira bolted, the rain hiding her footfalls. She did not want that door locked, and she managed to reach it within seconds of it closing. She waited one second... two... then opened it.
A pretty dark-haired elven woman looked back at her in surprise, her hood pushed back to show a damp and angular face. Her blue eyes went right through Nathaira to see... nothing. The serpentine woman filled the doorway but she had become quite invisible. The elf's face twisted in confusion, and she climbed back up the small steps to look around. "Must be the wind." She whispered to herself, and closed the door.
Nathaira, having slipped past her and behind several sacks of potatoes, dropped her shroud. The elven woman approached a desk at the far wall and began hurriedly grabbing up papers. She did not hear Nathaira creep up behind her, and she barely felt the blade that sliced her throat from edge to edge. She could only grasp silently at the eruption of blood as it blanketed the desk and her body like the rain blanketed the streets above. She never saw her killer, she only fell back and died in terror.
Nathaira stood over her, looking at her upside-down face. She was still very pretty, but the light always left the eyes first. She glanced over the desk and its papers, half of them now ruined. She had not been instructed to retrieve and documents, but sense and experience told her that such writings should not be left unattended. Something in this cellar could surely be used to burn them, and she turned around.
She froze, lifting her blades in alarm. She was not alone.
At least, this is how it happened in the natural world. In the wilds, where life had been allowed to flourish. In the city, rain just meant wet. The hard stone buildings and cobblestone streets had turned slick and black in the deluge, and the streams that ran down the gutters held filth and sickness. The only beasts afoot were the horses, and they splashed through puddles to get their masters home and dry as quickly as possible.
Nathaira walked close to the buildings, sheltering beneath the shallow overhangs of their roofs. Her slight figure let her press in tightly, blending against the shadowing rock so that she appeared almost invisible. The woman she followed was not quite so threadlike, and she walked with her shawl huddled about her shoulders.
All that could be heard was the rain. It splattered loudly from rooftops and covered everything in a wash of indiscernible static. Against this backdrop, the woman stopped and looked around. Nathaira flattened herself against the wall, just half a block behind her prey. Two amber viper's eyes stared out from beneath the shadow of a hood. Satisfied that she was alone, the woman ducked into low cellar doors.
Nathaira bolted, the rain hiding her footfalls. She did not want that door locked, and she managed to reach it within seconds of it closing. She waited one second... two... then opened it.
A pretty dark-haired elven woman looked back at her in surprise, her hood pushed back to show a damp and angular face. Her blue eyes went right through Nathaira to see... nothing. The serpentine woman filled the doorway but she had become quite invisible. The elf's face twisted in confusion, and she climbed back up the small steps to look around. "Must be the wind." She whispered to herself, and closed the door.
Nathaira, having slipped past her and behind several sacks of potatoes, dropped her shroud. The elven woman approached a desk at the far wall and began hurriedly grabbing up papers. She did not hear Nathaira creep up behind her, and she barely felt the blade that sliced her throat from edge to edge. She could only grasp silently at the eruption of blood as it blanketed the desk and her body like the rain blanketed the streets above. She never saw her killer, she only fell back and died in terror.
Nathaira stood over her, looking at her upside-down face. She was still very pretty, but the light always left the eyes first. She glanced over the desk and its papers, half of them now ruined. She had not been instructed to retrieve and documents, but sense and experience told her that such writings should not be left unattended. Something in this cellar could surely be used to burn them, and she turned around.
She froze, lifting her blades in alarm. She was not alone.