Private Tales Two Deaths, One Stone

A private roleplay only for those invited by the first writer
Alistair had returned back to looking at the cache, sticking things into his pack if he could carry them. He was less concerned about the money, and more the ledger telling him where the money had come from. However, he was still vaguely listening to the man's confession.

He would have assumed the man was lying, as criminals often did, until he could confirm after a little bit of torture. Thankfully, Kitra's abilities made this all far less bloody.

The contempt in his companion's voice finally made him look up. His dead grey eyes turned to her, and his facial expressions gave nothing away. He asked a simple, but also the more important question.

"So? What will you do now?"

He knew what Kitra had started all of this for, and if she needed to blow off steam then...he would turn the other way. Alistair knew what it was like to need to blow off steam to justify oneself. Besides, who was he to preach morals?

"At this point, we could even report this as official business, if you are worried about repercussions."

Kitra Sen
 
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They had done this the safest way possible, no laws broken. Alistair was right, that this could turn into a Vigilite operation.

The Wyrm looked between them. "Official bus'ness?"

Kitra still stared at him, a ferocity born only from Vel Cirak. She had been part of a large investigation in that fortress city, had played part in the culling of werewolves, until she felt the lies in her superiors. Kit had been played, had been used.

So she had done the only thing spite wished of her. The Lyrebird called the pack, and her mimicry had been so perfect, the wolves thought her to be one of them.

Kitra Sen had not cared back then, but to look upon one man... and decide what she would do next tugged at something inside her.

"We arrest them. Call it in. Shut down their entire operation."

The Dreadlord walked forward, daring the Wyrm to attack her as she leaned down to tug her dagger from out of the floorboard. He knew he was defeated, knew the two of them were something else entirely without showing their Dreadlord magicks.
 
Alistair raised an eyebrow in surprise at Kitra's decision but said nothing. Instead, he turned to look at the Wyrm staring at him blankly, but hoping that the man knew just how lucky he was. He wasted no time un pulling up his sleeve to reveal a symbol of the Vigilite that was woven within the runes along his arms. It pulsed a soft blue before Alistair rolled down his shirt to cover it once again.

"They know, and a squad will be here soon."

With that established, Alistair began to take all of the cache out of the hiding whole. Everything would need to be correctly recorded and then taken by the Vigilite.

He glanced at Kitra out of the corner of his eyes. He felt like he needed to say something to her, but he wasn't sure what exactly there was to say.

She could have killed the Wyrm, and Al wasn't so sure that he would not have, but she controlled herself...good.

Kitra Sen
 
Regret pierced fiercer than her dagger had embedded into the flooring before the Wyrm. She had already turned her back on the guilty party, but a stray thought had her half turn to him, staring as he still kept to the floor as if that were the furthest he could be from her.

Her hand tightened over her knives, ready to lift and sink the fine steel blades into his chest.

Until Alistair spoke.

His word was like a shackle, a call back to reality.

She swallowed, turning her back on the Wyrm again and looked to her partner like a starved animal that had been denied. "Good. We can use him to find the rest of their operations... find the root and pull out the weeds."

Regret. Regret. Regret. She had made the decision already and could not change her mind now. They still had a job to do.
 
Alistair nodded as he stood up and gave her one long look. He didn't need eyes to guess what she was going through. She had shown self-control, but that control could crumble at any moment. That was part of the reason why Alistair had acted so quickly. It was better for her if he cemented her decision rather than let her jump back and forth.

The next words were going to be a more difficult discussion, "It may be best to allow the others to remove the rest of the gang...I think we have accomplished your goal."

They had found the killers, and they could make sure he faced justice, but removing the remainder of the gang was not something that he or Kitra needed to be there in person when it was all destroyed. This might be the easiest time for them to let go.

Kitra Sen
 
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Alistair was right.

To have their hands free from dealing with the aftermath, the arresting and questioning that she no longer had any to ask, it had left Kitra in a restless state.

There was frustration in her overall being, a point made with every stomp of her boot as herself and Krixus had volunteered to walk back towards where they had met earlier in the day. Dawn was hours away, the cobbled streets scarce of any people at this hour, save for the two Dreadlords.

She had been quiet for a while, stewing in her inner thoughts.
 
Alistair walked silently beside her, so he wasn't great at closure or being reassuring. If someone wanted that this go find a therapist or a brothel. They walked like that for some time before Al could not take it anymore and he blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

"Good job."

Where was he going with that? He had no idea. He just knew that usually the less killing the better unless it was on the battlefield, and this certainly was no battlefield.

Being a good job and making the person feel better often did not go hand in hand, so he was aware of how Kitra was feeling right now. Maybe that was why he had said it, it was important that someone pointed at this good work that had been done even when you felt like shit.

Kitra Sen
 
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She loosed a long, heavy sigh.

His praise felt odd, but it validated her decision in walking away, in not ending a life. It meant her job within the Vigilite would not come under scrutiny, no more questions asked of her.

Kitra's face fell, tired and worn, restless from the outcome of what their findings had brought her.

"It does not feel real. That cannot be..." That cannot be how it ends. She wanted to do more, to give her old friend a worthy vengeance to his name and renown.
 
The Vigilite were not vigilantes even though both words were derived from the same them. They did not string up their enemies for the world to see. They were simply and arm of the law, a silent arm that gained far more from being unnoticed.

The important gang members would be arrested and they should pray that they were only imprisoned.

"Our duty is to the city, not to ourselves. That is all we must do...It's not a nice answer."

It wasn't very fulfilling, but very few jobs for Dreadlords were. They took orders. The only solice was the hope that by following their roles and these orders then one or two more lives would be made better.

Kitra Sen
 
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She rounded on him, her expression fighting between disbelief and vengeance.

"I..."

But she shook her head. Joining the ranks of the Vigilite had been her only option coming to Vel Anir. It was protection, but one that came with rules that Kitra seemed to struggle with.

"I need to honour him somehow." Grief, for the first time, grief came to the surface of her angry words. She felt as if she had been let down, but even worse, had let down a friend, someone from Vel Cirak she could have referred to as family. "And all I can taste is blood..."

She just wished she made the Wyrm bleed to a point that satisfied her bloodlust that she had learned to keep hidden, but not many had ever crossed the Lyrebird. Not until a Dreadlord of corruption had driven her away from her only place she had called home.
 
Alistair was silent while Kitra spoke. It was better if she voiced all of her emotions here and now rather than in front of the other members of the Vigilite. Some were not as understanding as those who did not take an outright zealous approach to their jobs.

"Honor him by doing the work...the right way."

The right way did not always mean the Vigilite way, but there was a right time and place to over step that line and it was never for petty gang members.

"If it helps, those criminals will be facing harsh justice. Especially the one that committed murder. By the end of all of this, they may wish they were dead."

Kitra Sen
 
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Kitra looked to Alistair, letting his words fill her and unravel. There was drive and energy, a thirst to do something but he was right. Ultimately right.

This was the role she had taken, had sworn into.

With a heavy sigh, one that did not relieve much weight from her, Kitra looked to the beyond of the street they were walking on. "I am glad we can still rely on the brute force of Anirian justice that way." She agreed, knowing that the murderer would not see an easy time in incarceration. Perhaps Kitra could befriend a Guard there, pay them to ensure that Wyrm never knew a moment of peace...

That he feared seeing Kitra again.
 
A small smirk pulled onto Al's face as he nodded in agreement, "That is sadly one of the more consistent aspects of Vel Anir."

He tried to think of his time with a therapist, like Perrine and even his early years at the Academy had involved daily therapy sessions...A fat lot of good those did.

"How did you meet him? The victim? Was he an old friend?"

It might not provide all the answers, but if Kitra was so set on honoring her old friend then maybe it didn't have to focus on revenge, but simply what he would have wanted for Kitra. Did he think of her as some embodiment of death and justice? Probably not.

Kitra Sen
 
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She stared at Krixus a good, long moment.

"I'm going to need a drink if I am going to talk about him." She decided.

Fortunately for them both, they were closer to the nicer pubs. It didn't take long to find one, nudging Alistair to turn and held the door open for him. It was still lively, but with plenty of seating choices for them to pick from. Kit found them somewhere tucked in a corner, away from the drunken festivities.

As soon as they sat, a server found them. "Drink?"

"Two glasses of your finest wine." Silvers clattered to the table as Kitra paid generously. She didn't speak to Krixus until two reds were placed in front of them, and her hand went to the glass to fiddle with it.

"Before I went to the Academy, I worked as a messenger. In Cirak, the slums were filled with orphans. We were taken and made into errand runners, running around the fortress with information, product, coin, secrets, you see where I am going? I worked for a corrupt Dreadlord who never paid me for every job, only when he was drunk would he be so kind to buy me a meal. I was the best runner out of all the children, but Avers was in charge of all the Guard and Dreadlords in Vel Cirak. Working for him meant you would be set up for life once you were old enough."

Now, Kitra chanced a sip of her wine. She didn't show whether she liked it or not, but set it down again to fold her arms across her chest.

"Harlan caught on after a few jobs picking up orders from him. He kept me fed, every day up until Avers gave me up to the Academy. Said I was his bastard, and that he never knew I was magically gifted, and took the coin they paid him for giving me up."
 
Alistair listened silently, only nursing the wine in front of him which was average at best by his estimations, but he had been told he was a snob on multiple occasions.

As he listened, Al wanted to almost laugh at the story but that would have been rude. It really was true, no Dreadlord truly ever got an easy life. It was all just shit.

"Hmm, what a stunning father figure. Considering you don't seem to be 'set up for life' at the moment, I take it you still aren't working for the man?"

It was a sad story and made Alistair more than a little angry, but there truth was that it wasn't that uncommon that high-level Dreadlords that had no chance of making it to the next rank often shifted to taking advantage of the corrupt system.

Seyah
 
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Kitra snorted, but was quiet for another moment as she stared at her drink.

"Oh I bet he never expected me to return to Vel Cirak after I graduated. I was a menace as an Initiate, but that kept me determined to be done with the place. Graduated at 16." And that was the dark side to her. Kitra was capable of doing the absolute worst to someone, all because she had one face in mind in all those years. "You know, it was Harlan that started to call me Lyrebird?"

She didn't tell many in the Vigilite of her Cirakian moniker, but being in this business, she assumed those with resources would have looked into her file and learned that tidbit. "Because I lied once I returned to Vel Cirak. I hated that my life only got fairer the moment I became Dreadlord Sen."

Harlan had been disappointed in her. Heartbroken to see her survive the Academy, leaving a year or two earlier than she had meant to. She had thrown herself into every mission she could just to show the Proctors how eager of a weapon she was. All because of spite and hatred and retribution.
 
Oh, he got it. There always was some self-loathing that came with being the Dreadlord. They held a station that was distinctly outside of and above the majority of the population. The Republic's integration of the position into the Guard looked to solve that, but it was hard to just throw away tradition in the minds of the average person.

Kitra had that, but she was doubled and super focused because she was dealing with the guilt of also succeeding and following the plan of someone she hated. Yeah, he could understand that all too well.

"I can't say I understand the whole name thing, but...maybe you don't need the mask anymore. You're in a position to help people in the open now."

Well, as out in the open as the Vigilite gets.

Kitra Sen
 
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