Her head was pounding as she climbed the somewhat steep hill up to the tower. Whatever had been in Jarrax’s flask was definitely poisonous, for it burned in her stomach after she drank it, and it was still affecting her now. Not in a great way, of course, as she had only taken one slightly large sip, but enough to make her feel…unright. Out of sorts. She’d even slapped Taunus across the face for the simple reason of not finding any suitable food for her. And she felt slow to defend, should there come any unwanted attacks. Her brow furrowed. That’s what disturbed her the most. And how silly to even believe that the Legion would strike in obvious ways. Tirasa knew in her heart that the most unobvious and non-combative attacks were often the most effective.
At the keep’s entrance, the two assassin guards nodded to her, motioning for her to enter. The keep itself was dark save for only a few needed candles, as the hour was very late indeed. Or early. Depended upon which shift one was unlucky enough to get, Tirasa mused idly to herself. By the light of the moon she inspected the dress she wore. Still suitable, though still rather uncomfortable, when one is accustomed to being incased in skin-tight leather. Sighing fitfully, she entered the keep and made her way up the stairs to his chamber.
The guard at the chamber door smirked at her, and it took Tirasa all of her remaining willpower to prevent herself from wiping that smirk right off his face. Knocking in a precise pattern of staccato notes upon the door, she heard a voice call out sleepily. “Enter, Tirasa.”
Finding the door unlocked, she entered the darkened room and closed the door behind her. Laying her swords gingerly upon the top of a nearby chest, Tirasa then unfastened her robe, and it fell to a puddle at her feet before she sauntered to the bed.
She remembered the first time she had ever been to Ravenholdt Manor. She’d had no problems passing Fahrad’s initial test, but she had rankled at the sneers the other assassins had given her. Seems they wanted proof of her intentions, well, Tirasa couldn’t really blame them for that, even though petty pickpocketing was well beneath her. Still, they had become more friendly after she’d performed their menial task.
Tirasa had felt his eyes upon her as she had climbed the stairs to speak to Fahrad the first time, but she was accustomed to the leering stares of males across the realm from time to time, so she did not acknowledge him at first. But he was a blood elf, or high elf as the alliance-adhering ones were known, and so she approached him, her chin lifted in a petulant manner.
He smiled as she came near, but the smile never reached the corner of his pale eyes. He wasn’t a particularly handsome elf, though that was not because of the shape of his features, the mane of golden hair flowing down his back, or the sharp scar running down one pale cheek from temple to jaw. She sensed a coldness behind his stare, and immediately flashed him a thin smile in return. Very well, fellow assassin, she thought to herself, I’m listening.
Introducing himself as Myrokos Silentform, he continued enigmatically. “We are all pieces of a much larger puzzle, Tirasa. Just as you guide the piece of a puzzle to its destination, so too are we guided by another.”
“I work for no one but myself,” she countered with a smirk. “Are you still tied to the humans, then?”
Ignoring her jibe, he continued nonplussed. “And perhaps they who guide us are themselves guided by an even greater force.”
Tirasa chuckled. “Oh, you’re religious too? Tell me, do you pray to the Light or Elune?”
“Perhaps neither.” He smiled genuinely this time, which improved his looks considerably.
“A philosopher as well. Interesting.” She eyed him from his toes to the tips of his upwardly pointing ears. Or a spy of the Burning Legion…
He gestured to the two assassins flanking him on either side, and returned the perusal she had given him, his colorless irises lingering upon certain areas of her taut figure for effect. “We could withdraw to a more private place if philosophy truly interests you.”
Flushing in spite of herself, Tirasa nonetheless changed the subject. “Your presence in an obviously human guild of assassins interests me. I know what happened to most of your kind.” She snorted, her eyes narrowing.
Myrokos sighed and put a hand to his cheek dramatically. “Ah, a mystery to plumb. Whatever shall we do?”
Their gazes locked for a few long seconds, Tirasa’s heart pounding wildly, even as her body outwardly hinted at nothing of the sort. “I would hear more of this… philosophy, blood elf,” she responded finally.
With a low chuckle Myrokos escorted her up the stairs.
Follow-up from Jarrax is at http://www.talonsofravencrest.com/ShadowTalons/viewtopic.php?t=35
Posted by Tirasa at 10:10 AM 10 January 2005