RP:Deliver, Post-Heist

Part of the Seven Dwarves All Around Me Arc

This is a Rogue's Guild RP.

Continuing from: "Go on... Fly free."

Summary: Lady Rona Ele, then Eleanor, then Fox is joined by Hound and Inks in the visceral crime scene left from their recent appropriation of the Bank of Rynvale. Years-old burdens, resentful guilt, and hesitant but loyal new beginnings are hinted at as the trio makes plans to expand the business enterprises of the Rogue's Guild, shifting the blame toward one particularly hellbent hag. With agreements uttered in the moments before dawn, one last life is taken; a worthy sacrifice.

The Bank of Rynvale

A pair of armed guards stand just inside the doors to the newly-erected banking hub in Rynvale, which serves as the final piece to the puzzle of complete self-reliance for the island city. It appears with the shady characters known to frequent the Broken Barrel and the current state of world affairs, the bank overseers are taking no chances against possible mayhem descending. While the two guards stand sentinel in the forefront of this elaborate stone building, a gaggle of wizards stands near the vault, keeping the bankroll safe from those who would seek to plunder it. A hefty queue exists to be seen by the tellers, but once at the head of the line you can store money, withdraw, see your balance, or even change money.

It had been one hell of a night, but it was far from over. A few short hours before, right around closing time, a striking new client came to the remote island's bank to deposit a priceless gift in their esteemed vault. Flashing a black diamond ring worthy of a queen, or at least a thane, the potential member, introducing herself as Lady Rona Ele, insisted on first inspecting the security of their safety deposit boxes before she would sign off on opening an account with them. Although warning bells went off in the elf manager's aged brain, the patron was remarkably persuasive. However, the moment Master Teodore un-warded and unlocked the vault, a masked man swiftly deposed of the guards and grabbed the would-be customer as a hostage. Using Ms. Ele as a meat shield against the other wizardly accountants' wavering wands, the bank robber demanded access to the interior vaults and lockboxes. Master Teodore's night was going terribly for him. Although he tried to talk his way out of the dangerous situation, he was underpaid and underprepared to deal with crisis negotiations. He produced the master key and pushed it into the first keyhole when everything became cold and wet inside him. The very last thing he remembered was three glowing orbs.

The remaining bank employees tried vainly to resist a similar fate. In a moment of weakness (or mercy), the robber told them to 'Fly free.' Fly they did not, but die they did as Rona Ele left the bank manager's husk in the vault antechamber and moved into the lobby to finish the job. 'No' a one,' she'd told her masked accomplice, and she meant it. Most of the victim's bodies still lay strewn across the bank's main lobby. Two, a male and a female, with black and purple bruising around the neck but no visible nooses were lying around. Four corpses with numerous vicious stab wounds as the self-evident cause of death, gender unknown under their armor or robes. And the final high elf, alone in the vault, a single stab wound to his back, piercing the front, his wizened face seized in perpetual horror. Lucky number seven.

Murderers. Thieves. Rona Ele and Leo Achilles left the scene after securing the few gems they'd initially come for, plus a couple of other surprises as well. The building was sealed against entry while they could regroup and gather a few extra hands that don't mind being red. Running into old friends in the hours that followed, Rona, now Eleanor, now Fox returned in stealth to the bank as the moon stretched high above. Eun, her bonded blue crow, scouted from the island to the continent, seeking out familiar 'birds' and delivering a simple message on embossed letterhead. "There is money in the bank." Unlike previous announcements sent by azure wing — where the bird might have flown off upon receipt — this time, it would impatiently flutter and flap around, croaking and cawing with excitable energy until urgency was suitably impressed upon the recipient. Specific individuals were preferred, but its mistress had guided the blue bird to summon anyone it could on such short notice, especially concerning the hour and the dastardly nature of the deeds. The rogue leader, shrouded in shadow, placed a unique sign on the bank's front door — "use rear entrance." It shouldn't appear to just anyone; to someone without a particular disc-like medallion, the bank should look deserted for the night. Satisfied, she moved to the alley behind the bank and waited by the back door.

Leoxander hadn’t anticipated the reunion and meeting that took place in the Jolly Roger, but Eleanor knew he would catch up before too many bells rang out across the nearly deserted seaport domain. Hood drawn over his head and assassin’s covering masking the lower half of his face, only the wolf’s eyes were visible from the shadows when they reflected in that wild shine, catching whatever little light there may be. It was that darkest hour after eventide when he turned the corner to walk down the alley toward the back of the bank, a shifting silhouette that made little to no sound each time the tread of his combat boots landed a step. They’d have the time to rectify the bloody display, with little to spare if needed assistance did now catch word or couldn’t make the journey. Either way, to make the best of ever-altering plans and avoid investigations that would only get in the way, the rogue returned to the scene of the crime, ready to get his hands dirty. Again. A wordless lift of his jaw greeted the former brunette and qualified actress, nocturnal vision then cast back a glance just in case any other presence in that area was not a welcome one. The fabric across his nose was drawn down to add another keen sense on alert.

Were Meri out in the Kelay-Sage area as she quite often is these days, it would have been questionable as to if the blonde would have made it out to Rynvale within a timely manner. Not with speed enough to be of use in a situation involving a barricaded bank. All the urgency in the world could be impressed upon her, but there is only so much distance she can cover! Thankfully, Meri is actually out in Rynvale when the bird manages to locate her, lurking around a certain tattoo parlor she used to work for a number of years. Well, 'lurking around a certain tattoo parlor' is a considerable understatement of the blonde's current intentions on the island, but did that really matter right now? Given the blonde's proximity to the bank, she is probably one of the first to arrive when those birds are sent out? Not that this was a logistical detail that was of much concern to Meri. Prior to even stepping out of the tattoo parlor, shadows cover and consume Meri's form so that the blonde can use the cover of night to travel unseen. She was not entirely sure what she would be arriving to, but she knew that she did not want anyone to see her coming and going. As she approaches the bank, a certain sign that only Meri can see does not escape her attention. The back door it is then...It would not take Meri long to locate Eleanor. Shadows or not, there was always scent. Eleanor was not the only scent that Meri was picking up, but it's not Leoxander that she's registering. The last she saw him she was just a squishy human. No, it was the familiar scent of death and blood that Meri currently found was heavy in the salty air. Which made Meri wonder what sort of mess she was about to walk in on?

Eleanor was grateful they'd gotten to sleep before some of this debacle began. As the night progressed, she felt more and more awake, buzzing, and high on adrenaline, and more. When the first familiar shadows crept onto the scene, her gaze sharply snapped toward branding blue, spreading outward from a wolf's heart. Her crimson lips twisted into a dark grin, his sin she'd play out again and again. She offered no words of greeting; she felt none were needed for Leo, after all. He'd know exactly what she meant to say. Above the alleyway, Eun circled before diving down, settling on the spellrogue's left shoulder. As it adjusted itself with a few claw-footed steps, the bonded bird lost a solitary blue feather. The offering drifted downward in slow zig-zags but disintegrated into powdery blue dust before melting into the shadows swirling around the ankles of the woman's tall black boots. Her gaze was pulled up toward the other end of the alley, and the curve of her smile shifted. Satisfaction shimmered in her eyes when she took a step away from the bank's back wall, skipping up onto the nearby stoop and gazing down toward a familiar and very welcome Queen of the Kingfishers. With only a soft brush of wood on stone, Fox pulled the door open. Some of the interior lights were still on, but they barely reached this end of the long hallway. She beckoned Inks inside first, cutting a sideways glance toward Hound next. Beyond him, further into the inviting gloam, two more figures appeared, roughly six foot but thin and sinewy each. The shadow-laced disguises worn by each peeled back as they advanced, revealing a pair of elves, but not much more. Fox granted them passage without a sound, and once everyone was inside the back receiving room, the rogue made sure the door was shut and bolted behind them. She still hadn't touched the bodies, leaving each exactly as they were. Nevertheless, she soon instructed the twins to move the high elf's body first into one of the back rooms, clearing the vault as the priority. They nodded noiselessly in acceptance and slipped down the hallway toward the front of the bank. Returning her attention toward the wolves with her, she gestured further into the building. "Come, thaur is much tae discuss."

Leoxander had been missing from Lithrydel lands for some time prior to these active two moons, or so it would seem to everyone, apart from the spellrogue. Although he’d returned to his nefarious ways without a hitch, some things had definitely changed in his absence. He had to stifle the initial urge to growl as he sensed another lycanthrope in what he more or less considered *his* territory once again, but the tightness in his throat stopped when night adjusted vision spotted the fellow tattoo artist in the dark. Yeah, he’d definitely missed a few things in that time taken solitary, or imprisoned in fur. Unable to break his silence just yet, he stepped back to allow Meri to pass inside, first, giving Eleanor a puzzled, squinted look as he followed after, perhaps to pass the she-wolf if she paused to take in the scene of dead bodies and opened lockers. He approached one of the robed elves lifeless and still on the ground, younger than poor Master Teodore, and retrieved a small throwing blade from the hand that had a fallen wand on the floor near it. It might explain the red, healing burn and torn jacket and shirt on his top right shoulder, visible when the lights inside should come on. Waiting for Eleanor to secure the sound barrier and doors with her rune wards, he finally dropped his hood back to the nape of his neck and regarded the two revealed elves with a warning but non-threatening look, before his attention turned to an old friend. Bronze-blond hair was grown longer than it was usually kept and a bit knotted in places, the familiar stubble of facial hair shadowing his jaw. “Who got to you?” That was his initial greeting as he took in her changed scent and perhaps a similar trick of lens when the light hit her eyes. Although stressed for time, El' would have to afford him their moment for the time that had passed between encounters.

The shadows melted away only once Meri was within the backroom and the door was shut. There was not much to note about her appearance, little had changed about her looks since the last time that she had seen either Eleanor or Leo. Meri still seems to have all her limbs, there are no new fancy hair cuts. It also seems that the blonde has not really seen fit to bring a weapon to this meeting, at least if there is one...? She's got it hidden from sight. Then again, any who knew the psion knew that she really did not need a blade to be dangerous. The bodies were noted as Meri followed Eleanor through the bank, but as grizzly as the scene was...? Meri was calm. "So I see," the tattooed blonde mutters out in response to Eleanor, keeping her sentiments short and to the point so that they could get straight down into business. Leoxander's question causes a devilish smirk to twist at her red lips. The who of the matter was not something that Meri had an issue with answering. Who was at one point plastered all over Cenril's papers, not that Leo would be aware. "Alvina," she responds without skipping a beat. Which meant that at some point someone would have had to have bitten Alvina, and the likely culprit in that area is of course Hudson. "We're all still chill, but we're not one big happy family or anything." Family. Pack. Whatever. Meri presumed Leo was able to pick up on her point. It wasn't a discussion to get into tonight anyway, which is why the blonde's gaze is quick to fix itself back onto Eleanor. "So speak your mind, woman."

Eleanor kept her tongue stilled, allowing Meri to narrate her story as she saw fit. However, the corner of her mouth twitched at Alvina's name. It wasn't news to her by this point; certain words had already been shared with the bard. Any lingering misgivings she didn't voice now, either. In fact, it wasn't until the trio of tattooed criminals made their way into the half-lit lobby that she finally addressed the psion among them. "Awrecht 'en," she started with a nod toward the vault, both hands lifting to lower her hood, revealing her hair twisted into an unkempt mess. The Business Bun. "Noo 'at ye've done sniffin' each other's tails, ye can see we've bin a bit busy." She slid a quick glance of mischief toward the pirate before returning her attention to Meri. Drawing in a deep breath, she tried to brace for the burdened truths she was still in denial over. "Ah huvnae foond 'er yet." Beat. "Th' Oracle." She exhaled, dropping a shoulder in a shrug. "Tuna." The rogue had certainly found things she wasn't considering, though. The look she let drift in Leo's direction hinted at guilty shadows, but she blinked them rapidly away. "Ah'm losin' mah patience— ur Ah was, until Ah got th' name ay someone who knows where tae find 'er. Whaur she'll be." Settling her pale eyes on Meri again, she continued. "It willnae be cheap, this information." In the background, the twins grunted under the weight of Master Teodore, maneuvering him down the hallway. One of them glanced briefly in Leo's direction as they passed, although they otherwise worked in silence. Meanwhile, El was turning her sights toward Leo herself. "We go' whit we needed, bu' Hound haur—" At last, her grin returned; it felt good to say the code name aloud, and not just as a cheap jab or empty promise to the once-leader. She offered the Kingfisher a meaningful nod as punctuation to the gesture. "Thought this place coods use new managemen'. We hae an … interim accountant tae cover a transfer of leadership, althocht we may need a few maur tellers an' security, if ye ken anyone lookin' fur a job." Anyone they could trust that is, although she appended secretively, "Trainin' included fur new hires."

Leoxander didn’t need to ask who the bite trailed to as a source. It was always just a matter of time, in his head. “Figures…” He only muttered low under his breath, barely enough to be heard. While the ladies had their chat to catch the Kingfisher up on details, Leo joined in on the grueling task of dragging or hauling bodies out of their fallen place, toward the back of the building, not yet into the alley or in sight, and careful not to make chores worse with a trail of blood. Once that was done, he instructed and ordered the two extra pairs of elf hands to start scrubbing with either elbow grease or most likely, that fruity magic a majority of the long-ears possessed, not that he trusted it not to leave some residue, but they were challenged with time. As Eleanor wrapped up her explanation, the pirate added a few words of his own. “A piece at a time, we’re reclaimin’ this place. I figure this a good place to start…” Although, they hadn’t yet included details about the governing documents salvaged in the scheme. Meri might already know, or guess, be it through Rilla’s word or her understanding of Leo’s habits, that the Jolly Roger was occupied again. Three plots marked on the map, several dozens to go. “Couldn’t hurt to get a Stork to play a part but we need some trusted, charmin’ faces and some better bloody security to make everything seem copacetic an’ normal, round here. Meanwhile, we make use of th’ vaults.” He motioned in the direction of the steel-enforced room, left accessible, for now. “I also want a watch to keep tally on the traffic in an’ out’a this place.” He wasn’t intentionally trying to command any part of the situation. Eleanor was the authority in the end. But with the Fox and the Hound, plans always tended to change in the fray. Donning a fingerless glove, the dead elf’s wand was retrieved from the floor and he moved to the puddle of Teodore’s blood that he’d stopped those extra mercs from swabbing up, and he dipped the end purposefully into the sanguine fluid like a quill in ink, carefully presenting it to Eleanor with a glance at the wall. They needed to leave arrows pointing in the wrong direction, after all.

A brow is lifted, the gesture happens right when Eleanor makes a crack about sniffing tails but it remains at Eleanor brings up the subject of the Oracle. It was a bit of a sore point for Meri as the disagreement that the blonde had with Eleanor was not forgotten. It seemed that whatever plan the spellrogue had for dealing with the Oracle was already well underway. The expression fades as Eleanor continues on and the subject shifts toward the woman's vision, it's need for new management. The blonde let's her gaze stray from Eleanor and Leo, blue eyes drifting around the room in consideration. When Eleanor finishes speaking her part, Meri responds with a shrug of uncertainty. It did not seem like the blonde was going to have an answer that the spellrogue would like, but Meri does not speak yet. Leo will also be given the chance to speak his own thoughts and plans for Rynvale, Meri giving him just as much regard as she did Eleanor. "So here is the thing, obviously I would recommend Malus for something like this? He's usually a pretty savvy businessman. But. He's not really going to want to spend much time out here in Rynvale." Meri's tattooed shoulders are rolled in another shrug. "I think that'll be the case for just about any name that I throw your way. I could be wrong?" Quintessa was one person that Meri would love to introduce to Eleanor, but she had a strong preference for Vailkrin. After a moment of silence, there is a hard roll of her eyes as the blonde finally drops one name, "Tiber. If you can recruit him to the cause."

Eleanor's greedy eyes glittered as Hound spoke, and where words failed her (as so often they did), he effortlessly filled in the blanks. With their shared goals hinted at in some places, pointed out in others, she focused her gaze back toward the psion. It went without saying to either wolf present, but friendship wasn't something that came easy to the spellrogue. Friends were messy. Relationships were messy. The truth was messier, though, wasn't it? Half of her still vehemently believed she had been protecting everyone by lying about the Oracle. The other half? … some wounds, she knew, healed slower. Her eyes slid back toward Hound, then toward the bloody stick that he offered up. The rogue leader's expression suddenly curved in a crooked grin. Taking the makeshift quill in hand, she considered the Kingfisher's position. She didn't have to chance a glance back at her to feel the tone under the suggestion. "Aye, Ah'll check out thes Tiber," she finally agreed, elevating pale eyes toward the various canvases presented to her. Stepping carefully around the half-elven teller, whose chipped badge read Meg//n, and crossed the lobby to walk around the counter. Someone had hung what could only be described as "forced personality" on the wall opposite the front door, and it was this disgracefully gray-only centerpiece that would suit her purpose well. Fox was no artist like the pair of Lycans at her sides, and the representation was crude, bold full-arm streaks as a triangle came to life around an all-seeing eye. Thick, sticky blood seeped into the neutral background in two passes before she lowered the elf-soaked wand to examine her handiwork. Without returning her gaze toward Inks, she added with a cautious tone of optimism, "Can bring 'im roond fur an interview, mmhm?"

Leoxander shook his head to Meri’s point, however well merited it might be. “Have you seen this place lately? It ain’t exactly gonna be a full-time job. Not yet, anyway.” He was a little wary watching Meri treat the cause without much interest, but she was the one who had answered their call. Once Eleanor had finished making her mark, he reached to take the wand back, to wipe it fairly clean and stash it away somewhere as a possible item to plant in the future - should they need further proof of the old witch’s false crime. Next would come the unpleasant business of removing the robe of the aged elf, soaked at the back in blood, scarred with an obvious tear, to which he employed the assistance of the nameless crew for the task. A dark and thoughtful look studied the clothing before he reached to the side of his back, under shirt, and removed one of the steel twins into his gloved grip. He turned back to face the two, flipping the dagger to present out hilt, and calmly requested. “Which one of you is gonna stab me in the back?” It would assist the plot well enough. The blade was steel, not silver, and his organs would repair quickly enough to avoid death, but the wound had to be fresh and deep enough to be convincing on how and why the elder had managed to ‘play dead’ and survive with his wound. Also limiting him to the only witness that might testify being robbed by the Oracle, herself. He’d be going into retirement once the questioning was over.

Meri points at herself when Eleanor states 'Can bring him around fur an interview, mhm' It was obvious. It was easy to understand. It was even reasonable! Meri was the one who mentioned the name, so why would Meri not bring him around for an interview. Did we miss the way that Meri rolled her eyes when she even spoke the name Tiber? Meri will demonstrate again for good measure, but as she rolls her eyes this time she also turns away from both El and Leo. While Meri might think that Tiber is more than capable for the job, she was not exactly looking forward to arranging the meeting. He was a frustrating individual for Meri....Usually on purpose (as if she doesn't deserve it, karma). "Fine," this short and groaned out response might only fuel Leoxander's opinion that Meri was not interested in the cause...but as he has observed, she was the one who showed up tonight. And hasn't she been for years now? Perhaps it is an explanation that Eleanor will give, for it seems that shortly after issuing that answer of 'fine' that Meri will be showing herself back out of the bank.

Eleanor had to temper a smirk at Meri's reaction, appearing to wait patiently for the other to agree. "Guid. Then we'll see ye … very suin." The spellrogue meant every word, in more ways than one. After following the other depart, the twisted grin took hold of her expression entirely. Seaglass eyes glistened like seafoam in the lobby lights, and she took a few long strides back toward Leo. "Stab ye in th' back? Och, tsk tsk tsk." Keeping her gaze level, she traded over the 'paintbrush' for a blade no doubt familiar in her hand, gloved fingers flexing around the hilt. She risked another step toward the pirate, leaving little room between them, but she didn't seem in a rush, despite her words. Her eyes were heavy and suddenly starved as they explored Leo's features, those that were visible and just as drawn toward those that weren't. "Ah thought ye'd never ask."

Leoxander had reason to be wary of Eleanor’s lack of hesitance, but she’d probably dreamed of this moment for eight turns of the seasons. Perhaps more. He wasn’t looking forward to the sacrifice, but it accounted to how far he might go to help the Fox finish her hunt. The shirt was already ruined, but just to be safe and spare no telltale threads of fabric, he peeled it up off his upper torso as he turned, displaying the thick, black weaving lines of a tattoo that granted him certain passage in the days he traveled by sea. “Mind the ink. An’ the spine, if you can.” He would still find himself able to recover from a severed vertebra (probably), and although being temporarily paralyzed would contribute to the act, he wasn’t prepared to go even a short time entirely defenseless. A glance at the two emotionless assistants was cast to make certain they were ready to do their part and dress him, toe to heeling untied boots as not to give away something an older elf tending a bank would not wear. He didn’t await a countdown or look back, trying not to tense up for the impending pain that was to come. “Leave it in, for now.” That last final instruction, to make certain he didn’t bleed out prematurely, and to make certain the injury was convincingly fresh. The rest was up to her, placement or disposal of bodies, maybe even charing them worse than knife marks to articulate her enemy’s cruelty. Also to disguise his appearance at the right time, though dawn was fast approaching.

Eleanor sucked in a sharp breath through her teeth. "Och, Ah dornt min' th' ink at aw, mo ghaol," she teased, barely fending off a husky chuckle. Ignoring the elven twins and their citrus-scented abjurations, the cloaked woman half-circled the pirate before coming up behind him, near enough to breathe on his neck. She angled the borrowed blade so that its razor-sharp edge tickled across Leo's skin with careful precision and care for the amount of pressure applied. "No' th' spine, he says," the rogue purred in a mocking singsong, her free hand steadied at his hip. This time she pulled the very tip of the dagger from the small of his back up towards the middle of his shoulder blades with a slow, featherlight touch. "Nae organs, Ah assume?" The spellrogue pressed the flat side of the edge against Leo's lower back, near his right kidney. "Whit about... reit b'low yer ribs,..." Leo's dagger found the spot, and she gently pressed in with promise. "Up under yer lungs, above yer liver." There wasn't enough weight behind the blade to even pierce skin yet, and yet sweat found the rogue's brow. Her breathing became shallow, and she measured her exhales with years of practice, although there was little she could do for her hammering heart. El drew in another, deeper breath. On her exhale, she gripped his hip tighter in her other hand and instantly thrust the blade in and up, as promised. She'd be quick to catch any weight, as were the two thus-far mute accomplices, who quickly set to work setting the scene.

Leoxander truly felt she was enjoying that moment, and the drag of blade brought the hairs on his arms and the back of his neck on end as he listened to her detailed speech of intention. He’d never actually admit the thrill and fear she instilled at that moment, with her husky, seductive tone. Somehow, that woman could even make pain into a form of pleasure, but he was still determined to focus on the job that they had so little of a window to carry out, without winding up in prison or worse. Jaw tense, he didn’t bother to answer her rhetorical questions, only tilting his head deliberately to crack some of the vertebrae in his neck as she poised herself like a serpent to strike. He could scent her emotion, hear her breathing, and feel her tension the seconds preceding impact, and his eyes closed. Skin, flesh, perhaps flecks of bone split and he arched, but impressively maintained a practiced silence as he choked on a cry. Some of the old scars on his tattooed back might be attributed to practice at this - though he’d never asked for it, before. He didn’t collapse backward, but he did eventually sink to his knees as the two elves pulled those sin-stained robes over his body and collected anything he’d left behind: shirt, shoes. The blades would be up to Eleanor to take possession of as they went. Dawn was threatening to shine on the wards she’d put into place as he achingly motioned at the woman with a guttural, “Potion…” Call it wolf instincts, but knowing Rynvale as he did, lazy as they were not to respond too soon, he could guess they’d barely have a moment to perfect the scene before someone pounded on the door through a sign they could not see.

Eleanor drank him in. Something feral in her responded to the nuances in how the tension piled on between fox and wolf, layer by delicate layer. And when sinewy hands pulled him away, she released a long, heavy sigh. She hadn't quite realized she'd been holding her breath in the seconds following Leo's descent. The woman refused to let him see the fractures in her facade and as the 'new' bank manager donned his Elvish apparel, she pivoted away and rolled her celadon eyes heavenward in a quick prayer. Her hands still occasionally trembled, but Fox was back to business in the next heartbeat. Leo wore Master Teodore's robes, El bore his magic. With the shadow-laced twins' assistance, they managed to lay out the rest of the bodies in a visceral state of disarray—no sign of the masked robber or the dark-haired thief. At length, she returned her composed attention to 'Teo,' but boy was she internalizing. It was one thing to kill the elf, another thing to kill the wolf. Even if she trusted her precision, even if his lycanthropy took the edge off... Everything, stuffed down inside, they were running out of time. The Oracle's calling card was plucked out of her belt, along with the potion specially prepared of the elf's blood before Leo's return to the scene. Eleanor pressed the card into one of his hands and the brew in the other. Although her breathing faltered and her heart raced, she snorted out a quiet laugh. "Ye better nae feckin' die, ur Ah'll find a way to bring ye back—" again "—an' kill ye twice." Third time was a charm.

Leoxander purposefully crawled the foot or two on hands and knees to dip his hand into Teodore’s blood, ready to collapse sideways beside it. Only then did he take the calling card, trying to seem as unphased and neutral as possible with his own knife in his back. The pirate wasn’t a stranger to pain, and had an impressive tolerance, particularly with his enhanced healing that shed the time suffered. But he couldn’t entirely disguise his misery as he dropped his brow to the ground and hid momentarily in the fetal position on hands and knees, potion applied as he’d seen her do, drawing on his strength to carry out that plan. “I’ll haunt you an’ make it easy…” Came the muffled reply as he listened, waited for her to abandon the scene and with the risk, abandon him, too. He could no longer be responsible for the finishing touches, prepared for her to withdraw his blade and take the bottle as evidence, as well as drop the wards in timing with his body, in order to look freshly assaulted and clinging to life. Which, more or less, he was.