RP:For Fox Sake

Part of the A Few Fox Tales Arc

This is a Necromancer's Guild RP.

Summary: Quintessa stumbles upon a foxy rogue named Ina while in Cenril. She helps her make off with some valuable memorabilia before they split up to head to Vailkrin

House of Olric the Just

Three impressive pillars stand near the far wall, carved from fine Craughmoyle marble by dwarven masons. The pillars represent the three virtues of Justice, Truth, and Light. A newly commisioned statue shows Olric in the form of an elven paladin, the details of his armour carefully sculpted, the face hinting at the courage and nobility of the Ascendi. The statue stands proudly, holding his famous hammer in one hand and the Scales of Justice in the other. On one wall is a simple brass plaque polished regularly with great care, a memorial to the paladin Guerin, a good and brave man and a devoted worshipper of Olric and Arkhen. The whole shrine seems to emit a subtle warmth, encouraging a feeling of peace and joy in those who visit.

Arlyeon isn't normally the sort to rely on intricate plans, but every so often, there's an endeavour she has in mind that requires that little extra something. A degree of effort far and beyond what she manages for her card sharking. In this particular instance, it took the form of hiring one group of urchins to pelt a decidely unhealthy amount of stones through the stain glassed windows of Olric the Just. It's sort of hilarious in and of itself, but the real gag comes into play -after- the Paladin on Sentry dutyu bursts out of the temple and gives chase to the Vandals, since that's about the point the rival urchin gang that Ina had hired swoops into the fray, degenerating the entire scene into an absolute frenzy of hurled stones, filthy rags, and crusty bread pieces. It's pretty good sport, admittedly, and has Ina loitering alongside the temple for a few moments longer than she ought to- but she's quick enough to get her head on straight- clawed fingers sinking into the masonry of the temple wall as she scrabbles up towards the 'open'indow. And she's not really all that apt to stand out, for once, since she's traded in her normal outfit for some darkened leathers, her normally flamboyant hair currently a very muted black. Fox things, and all that. Really, her entrance goes almost completely without a hitch, up until she actually slides through the broken portion of glass and then catches in mid air. The head of the Pickaxe that's on her back somehow catches onto the framework of the window, and for a few panic inducing seconds, she's left alternating between flailing and wincing, until she catches sight of the glimmering multicolored Caltrops waiting for her just below. "...Probs a good thing I shook all them runts hands." Catching a breath, the fox centers herself, then settles her palms and feet agains the wall, and carefully kicks down into the room. "H'okay."

Quintessa didn't make it a habit to visit Cenril, especially after the incident where she murdered a bunch of saurians and burnt down the entire city flat to make sure there were no survivors. That had put her in a bit of a bind when it came to moving around the streets here, but that was weeks ago and she had a new hair cut now, surely she would be okay to walk around in the open. Besides, Quintessa had a vested interest in visiting the library in Cenril and she wasn't about to let the puppet government stop her from doing what she wanted. But Quintessa had never found the library in this maze of a city. She had spent the last three hours aimlessly wandering up and down Merchant Street and Beloy Street and Congressional Way and whatever else street existed in this hellhole. Why on earth would anybody live here? She was pondering just throwing herself in the sea when the sound of windows breaking drew her attention to the House of Olric the Just, whoever that was. The hex balde hung back in the shadows, her lithe form drifting out of sight as a group of vandals followed closely by an angry paladin rush past her. Her changeling senses were tingling. Mismatched eyes scan the building in front of her, completely unaware of the foxkin that had snuck inside. Her mouth twisted into a mischievous grin and she approaches the front door. With the paladin guarding this place gone there might be some sweet loot inside so the changeling lets herself inside. After all, it's not like the paladin on duty had time to lock the door behind him. "Well now," she said to herself as she skulked into the room, "What do we have in here?"

Arlyeon had landed on the balls of her feet, an act which isn't quite as bad as a much vaunted superhero landing- but which still sees her precariously rocking back and forth, especially due to the weight on her back. It takes her a few moments of wiggling her arms out to the sides to regain something even resembling balance. Enough, in fact, that when she finally does stride forward and unsling the pickaxe from her back, she's greeted by the changelings words- amplified by the awe-inspiring acoustics that so many temples seem to favor. It's enough that it causes the fox to freeze in place. Mostly, anyways. Sure, blacksmithing on the side has somewhat helped to build up some body strength, but she was a little bit too enthusiastic in her motions, something which makes the pickaxes collision with the ground inevitable. "Shhh." Ina isn't sure if she's shushing herself, the stranger, or the pickaxe in that moment- but she gathers her wits quick enough to heft it off the ground, rapidly scurrying behind one of the pillars, her twin tails lashing behind her as she seeks cover. Was it a guard? Paladins packing plate mail and swords was not really a good match up.

Quintessa is gazing up at the pompous looking elf statue trying to keep herself from giggling when she hears metallic clanking and someone shushing it from somewhere else in the temple. The changeling freezes much like the fox had, her right hand slowly reaching for her katana. Were there more guards in here? Had she been spotted? They must be watching her. Quintessa slowly turns in the direction of the noise, her spiked heels slowly scraping against the floor as she pivots. The changeling parts her lips to speak, to ask if somebody was there, but she hesitates instead and disappears into the shadow of 'Olric the Just'. She'd play the spider waiting for the fly this time. It was safer that way.

Arlyeon s back is pressed to the pillar for a few long moments, her eyes flicking to the floor occasionally, in the hopes that she might be able to spy a shadow creeping forward across the ground- anything that might give her a heads up on who was there. But there's nothing to greet her, only a nigh indescernible scraping sound that sets her black and red furred ears perking to their utmost- and which ultimately gives way to a silence that creeps onwards. For a brief moment, the temptation to diminish herself into a more vulpine guise dominates her thoughts, to cut and run in the face of the unknown, "S' hassle, though." Getting back into that gear would be awkward, and some of it was a little costly for a fox girl on a budget. What's more, the lack of clanking, and that silence , "Innit very paladin-like, either, is it? Ja not a choir boy, so who goes there?" a vivid emerald gaze flicks down towards the ground again, in search of any looming shadows, before drifting over towards the next pillar, in an effort to gauge just how quickly she can switch from cover to cover.

Quintessa a dark giggle echoes throughout the temple as Arlyeon questions her, inquiries about paladins and choir boys quite amusing to the changeling. A spiked heel steps out of the shadows, a loud click bouncing off the walls to give away her position before a second follows, and then a third. Slow, methodical. "Noooo," she coos, holding on to the syllable longer than she had to, "I'm not the devout type, least not to some goodie-two-shoes like this Olric." Quintessa's shadow creeps between the pillars, her mismatched eyes searching for the source of the voice. "No, no, no... I'd be more likely to desecrate this temple than ever be caught prostrating here." Her hands remain glued to her sword, ready to counter-attack any poor soul who thought they could take her in a straight fight in such close quarters. "And what about you? You here to defend this place from the Monster of the Black Pond?" Quintessa's lithe form slowly drifts past the thief, completely unaware that she was hiding behind a pillar.

Arlyeon actually has to restrain a chuckle, focusing instead on mastering her breath as she finally has something to latch onto. But, it's not the click of heels, nor the sound of the changelings voice that the fox relies on the most- but rather the sight of her silhouette which provides the most concrete idea of her location- and which hints at the fox to start sliding from her current vantage point. With some care, she slides out from one shoe, only to partially repeat the action with her other foot, and kick it forward, the intention being to send it behind the next pillar over. Ina, on the other hand, intends on creeping the opposite direction of Quintessa is she can help it- relying on a foxkins natural proclivity for quiet to muffle her steps. That, and a tiny bit of innate illusion work to muffle the difference. Provided she manages to at least creep back to the statue that Quintessa had formerly taken cover behind, she'd then finally deign to respond, "Well, ja awfully short fer a monster. 'n the first one I hearda wearin' heels. As fer me? I think I might be beatin' ya to tha punch on the whole desecration bit. Though, uh, " She casts a glance up towards the looming statue of the Paladin ascendi, awkwardly scratching at her face, "Not fer any personal beef, or what have ya. S'just busyness, and business."

Quintessa is quick to act in aggression, turning around with inhuman speed to draw her katana and slash the at the pillar she had been tricked into thinking was hiding an enemy. The tempered steel of her blade bites into the stone, emitting sparks as it harmlessly cuts through the air. She growls in frustration at first, displeased that she had been fooled, but when the thief addresses her once more her creepy grin returns. "Short?" Her twisted laughter echoes throughout the temple again, "Easy to say from the shadows. Why don't you show yourself so we can both see if you measure up?" The hex blade allows her aura to spread out, slowly creeping around the pillars searching for the aura of her unplanned looting companion. "I take it you had something to do with the hoodlums, then? Provided me an excellent opportunity to let myself inside, so you have my thanks." The clicking of Quintessa's boots continues, retracing the steps she had taken before but this time with her sword idly smacking each pillar she passes, a pleasant -cling- bouncing off the walls after each flick of her blade.

Arlyeon barks out a laugh at Quintessa's 'offer' to compare heights, though she doesn't rise to that provocation- content enough to remain lurking by the statue of Olric. Already, she's in the process of sizing up the scuplture of the Ascendi, her gaze skirting over it's chiseled form in search of handholds. And sure, Quintessa's messages do carry a sort of lingering threat in them- but there's something distinctly reassuring in the manner in which she keeps talking. It allows the fox a fairly decent idea of her relative location. In any case, once she's satisfied that she's figured out a path, the foxkin slings her Pickaxe back onto her back, and proceeds to carefully drag herself up onto the statues base. And then not so carefully mock imitate the statuesque Olrics pose right back at it, minus scales or hammer. "I mean. Ja work with what ya got. 'n what i had were fellow street rats, so!" There's a pose there, the fox falling quiet as she reaches over to what she can only assume is a not-so-faithful reproduction of the Ascendis package, a larger-than-life bulge providing an excellent hand hold as she hops up further, her feet dangling between the statues legs for a moment as she kicks herself further up. Once there, It's not long before she's hopped over to it's scale bearing arm- where she rests sprawled over it like a piece of laundry, "...hffff, anyways. So what brings a self-described monster out to dis venerable establishment?"

Quintessa thinks she is closing in on the mischievous fox, her wispy aura obscuring the changeling's form as she skulks through the temple. "Street rat, you say? Fitting, seeing as I have you trapped like one!" The hex blade grins deviously as she quickly rounds a corner, her katana pointed a the spot Arlyeon was just a moment before, but she had already moved on. "Hmm." Quintessa's mismatched eyes scan the room again, walking away to turn her back on the statue. "I'm lost," she admits, "I hate this city. All the streets look the same. All the humans smell like piss." The hex blade slowly returns her katana to her sheath, her expectations of a fight breaking out momentarily discarded. "But this place specifically?" Her pale hands move to her waist as she looks from the left to the right. "I heard glass breaking so I wanted to check it out. I love getting involved in things I have no business getting mixed up in."

Arlyeon wiggles, writhes, and ultimately slithers belly first up the arm of Olrics statue, only rising to her feet once she's gotten up onto it's shoulders. From there, she makes sure to give that spot a few good testing stomps with her foot- only to shuffle over to the shoulder that belonged to the hammer and doing the same. Deciding she liked the one over the other, she settles one foot there, and another onto the hammer bearing arm, her hands moving to take hold of the pickaxe once more, "I mean, ja ain't the only one whose sensibilities might be a bit delicate towards the rankness of this place. Tch. Thing's lookin' tha same has it's advantages, though, lemme tell ya that, mm." There's that bark of a laugh again, and this time, the foxkin can't restrain it- nor the manner in which her grin becomes a pronounced slash across her features to the extent that it might be described as chesire-like. When she finally swings that pickaxe, it's with every iota of strength that a year of being an apprentice strength has lent her, driving down the tip into the hammer wielding hand of the scupture. Admittedly, she wasn't quite expecting the resounding shock that ripples through her arms, nor the rather violent recoil which sends her sprawling backwards- the only thing ultimately preventing her from falling from the statue being the quick manner in which she hooks the axe over the scale bearing arm. Leaving her just sort of extended out in front of it, ". . . Uh. Anyways. Iffun it's trouble ja looking for. Well. Lemme. Huff. Lemme tell ya." She's going somewhere with that. Just let her get her bearings first.

Quinteasa snaps around when Ina slams her pick down on the statue's hammer, her off-colored eyes catching the scene as it plays out before her. This woman was a... "Buffoon." the changeling says, watching her hanging from the scales of justice above her. How was it that she was able to so easily fool Quintessa before? "Uhuh," she begins, a smirk growing on her dark features as she crosses her arms. She couldn't wait to hear this. "Well, I suggest you hurry up. That paladin won't be chasing your fellow street rats for long. In fact, I wouldn't be the least bit surprised if he was already on his way back her. Let's just desecrate this place and be done with it."

Arlyeon s stuck between wanting to actually get her bearings, and petulantly kicking at the hammer bearing arm that foiled her. Kicking that actually grows a little bit more furious when she catches note of being called a buffoon. "Now you jus'-" Was that a cracking noise? Before she can shimmy her feet further to the side- the hammer bearing hand suddenly breaks free of it's moorings, sending that finely chiseled hand careening down to the ground below, at about which point the hand finishes shattering asunder. Ina, for her part, is left hanging quite literally from her pickaxe now, but she's far from done, given the rather determined way she's rocking back and forth. "Oh, I wouldn't be too worried 'bout that. I'll have a pretty good idea - "When suddenly the door to the temple bursts forward, and a not-so-lightly smouldering street urchin collapses into the edifice. That said, It's only when ina gains enough momentum to get one leg over the arm, so that she can straddle the statue and swing herself back over that she even bothers to try and figure out who it is. " Which..one was he?" Sure, she steals luck and all- but that's pretty severe isn't it? Sure, she'd shook hands with the brats she'd made the agreement with but- "..Oh, right. Well." Maybe their boss asking to seal the deal with a little kiss wasn't the brightest move he'd made, if he had that bad of luck to start with. In any case, now that she's up and at them again- she wastes absolutely no time whatsoever in getting to her feet, offering Quintessa a quick salute, and then golf swinging the pickaxe into the scale bearing hand. At least this time she's prepared for the recoil, as she more or less just pivots with it, bringing the swing full circle so she can then assault the from the other side and thus sending Scale in hand careening across the room. "So, guard's on the way, I think. Can you hold that hammer. It looks heavy? I still need to snag dat scale and plaque, thank ya, thank ya." Her tone of voice is so cordial, you'd think she does this kind of stupidity all the time.

Quintessa makes sure to stand back to avoid the falling hammer, giving Ina a wide berth as she slowly destroys this gaudy statue. This was an act which brings the changeling much joy to watch, but her mirth was interrupted by the slamming open of the doors. With her hands returning to her sword, Quintessa adopts a fighting stance only to sigh in exasperation when she discovers it's just one of the plebeians that had been chased off by the Paladin of Olric. "Oh, it's just one of your boys," the hex blade says, relaxing as she turns back to face the foxkin. "That means the guard can't be too far behind..." Quintessa bends down to try and lift the hammer, a feat that she's only barely able to complete for a moment before setting the head back down. "Ugh, it -is- heavy." What did she really expect from a giant stone hammer. "The brass plaque is the only thing of value, anyway. Let's nick it and get out of here. If that paladin comes back I'll be fine, but I'm not going to protect you or anything."

Arlyeon may have already been fussing with the logistics of just how she was gonna run off with an -intact- giant stone hammer, which is probably why she'd made the request of the newcomer. That, and it helped as a pretty decent gauge of her willingness to be an accomplice to -Criiiiiiimes-. Considering she was wholly willing to be caught there with a hammer in her hands when a paladin was around the corner was a decent enough indicator she was at least down for mischief- which is probably why the foxkin proceeds to just step off the edge of the statue. Albeit, pick axe first, and straight down onto the haft of the stone hammer. "S'more portable now. Tourists love this garbage, I swear." That said, she's already on the move, given that the scales have -Luckily enough-, slid over near to where the plaque was. Without skipping a beat, she's already in the process of stuffing both objects into a bag, before she promptly makes a break towards the door. "Sorry 'bout that, T-" Toby? Timothy? Todd? "Toots." She gives a thumbs up to the smouldering kid, who can only manage a sickly gurgling- before she quite promptly steps directly to the side of the door, and waits. Really, the theorys fairly sound. Clanky the paladins approach is going to be pretty loud- a bit of theory crafting she's already getting some audible confirmation of. With any luck, he's going to poke at the body at the door, and then move to enter, but likely without kicking the door open door to the bit of human kindling that's proximal. Justice, and stuff, right? Which, at that point, leads to the Paladin catching an eyeful of the statue, and plausibly Quintessa, to boot. It's a recipe for ... uh, success? Disaster? Oughta be fun, in any case.

Quintessa is indeed the kind of person to get mixed up with criminal types, always enjoying the trouble they seemed to get in. There was a time in her life she had to do this to survive and not just for kicks, but she never forgot where she came from. Either way, the changeling was all too happy to assist a complete stranger in the random vandalism of a temple of a god she'd scarcely even heard of. It was all a game to her. Quintessa lifts what remains of the hammer onto her shoulder and speed-walks after Arlyeon, not at all worried about some paladin. Perhaps she could beat him in combat, but the last thing she actually need is to earn wanted posters in Cenril much like someone else she knew. With clanks echoing closer and closer she looks at the foxkin to take the lead, after all this was her gig. "Well?" The changeling asks, "Do you have a place to lay low? We can't stick around here."

Arlyeon s already in the process of settling one hand onto her hip, and gesturing towards the changeling with all the swagger she can muster, "Course. Who D'y-uh-oh." Then she's sucking in a breath and just peeling right up against the wall, because clanky the clown's rolled right up to the door. Whilst the exacts of what he says to the gurgling urchin isn't quite clear, she does pick out something that sounds awfully similar to a half-assed last rites given, right before the doors kicked in. Heavy as it is, it doesn't quite plow into the foxes face, stopping just shy, though it does beg the question of whether or not Quintessa managed to get out of sight. Not that it really matters, since the Paladins immediate goal of scanning the room comes to a very abrupt halt when the statues current state of disrepair is noticed. The sheer galling and disrespectful hubris that went into vandalizing what was essentially the rooms centerpiece has an almost mesmerizing effect on the man, drawing him in closer in a state of shocked horror and fury. Which, Ina is 100% capitalizing on by slinking out from the door, and just trying to tiptoe around the door and over ... Tito? Tony? "Rest well, my sweet prince." 'Toots' the urchin smoulders (literally) in response, as the foxkin treads over him. "What In The Hells?" That wasn't Ina, to be clear- that was the paladin, though whether it's him noticing the window, the missing plaque or the interlopers is something she's not turning around to discover. She'll hear the clanks, anyways.

Quintessa is at least familiar with remaining unseen, yet her tactics were slightly different. The hex blade stands back and mutters the word "Anweledig." Her cloaked form vanishing from sight at the holy man blessed the dead urchin. It seemed a wasted act of symbolism. If he truly cared about the kid's life then why'd he take it from him? Quintessa holds completely still as the armored fellow rushes past her, taking in the sight of the ruined statue one last time before stalking after her partner in crime. She manages to get a few meters away before bursting out in stifled laughter, her invisibility fading away as her concertation fails her. "The look on his face," Quintessa jeers under her breath, hoping that she was at least out of earshot. But she wasn't, and the paladin was after them. Could he keep up? Quintessa was quite skilled at running in heels.

Arlyeon s grateful that she at least got a head start, because when the dread inspiring cacophony of clinks bursts into life behind her- she nearly trips over her own feet. Something that's made even worse when her bare feet hits the streets cobblestone. "S'friggin cooooold." Not that it's stopping her from scrabbling full tilt, but there's a sort of chaotic logic to the way she moves- skirting back and forth as she tries to avoid the bits of horse droppings, broken glass, and other bits of detritus left on the streets- while the Paladin bears down towards them. That said, Ina's not going to dwell on that for long, banking a hard turn towards merchant street, and from there into an alley. Hopefully, losing their pursuer down some crowded terrain might work, but if not, she just needs long enough to break line of sight. "Way ta' leave ya friggin temple undefended again, ja shiny jackass."

Quintessa contains her laughter long enough to glance back, her mismatched eyes getting a good look of their pursuer. It's not until Arlyeon complains about how freezing it is that the young mage is hit with a plan. "Cold? Of course!" Her left hand snaps to the ground next to her as she shouts "Iâ!" and the cobblestone of Merchant Street slowly grows a slick ice-sheen much like the one she produced many months ago when foiling Hengsun at the Mage's Guild. Her skill had massively improved since that day. "That should slow him down," Quintessa says boastfully, catching up to Ina as she avoids stepping on debris from the windows. Once they had slipped down an alleyway and away from the foolish paladin, the changeling would snicker again, setting the hammer head down and rubbing her shoulder. "This thing is still heavy. Where are we taking it anyway?"

Arlyeon gets a good bit further into the alley before she finally comes to a stumbling stop, spinning out on a heel, if only so she can slouch against a wall, and take in a handful of deep burning breaths. Really, it's the confidence and laissez-faire attitude in Quintessa's voice that let Ina know the coast was 'semi' clear. "Mmm. Mmm. -Well-. I was aiming to uh, pass it along to some art collectors, " Her hands provide the necessary air-quote motions, "that are shacked up in Vailkrin. A whole house of dem' folks, but I figgered the items and performance that accompanied this artful display might have a bitta' an appeal to 'em. Otherwise- I got some ideas on how to hock it." It's only now that she bothers to adjust the bag on her shoulder, a faint accompanying the motion, "Given the namin' on the Plaque- 'm probably gonna have ta ransom it back ta the city, though- Stashin' it my toothy eyeball pals always an option. Whenever he crops up again, 'n all."

Quintessa takes a few deep breaths and actually goes as far as to take a seat on the hammerhead before she gives the thief a pointed look. "Wait," the baroness says, becoming serious suddenly, "Vailkrin?" The changelings lip pulls up over her sharp teeth. "Which house?" she demands to know. There was one house of vampires in particular that she wasn't about to deliver these to. "Y'know, House Dragana is interested in fencing stuff too. They've recently been putting out work for roguish types like yourself." She stands again, already finished with her break. "I might just be able to put in a good word for you."

Arlyeon looks offended at that look, and the seriousness that accompanies it. "What? I'm a business lady. I can't be given away all my secrets." A claim that lasts all of a few seconds before she lurches forward to conspiratorially offer a whisper & a wink, "House Torradorks' were the one I was gonna be passin' this stuff off onta. Figured it'd match their aesthetic, er somethin." Still, the tidbit that ensues does garner Ina's interest, if the way her grin broadens, and her already bright eyes seem to outright shine, "Oooooh reeeeeally? Well, don't mind iffun ja do. Name's Trish. Last name pendin' cause I forgot it again." One hand falls over her heart, as she spins out from the wall, only to hang backwards on the heels of her feet, the other hand hanging loosely off to her side, "Whatever will I dooooo- other than 'member it again when it's convenient, anyways." And then she's snapping back into a ready position, practically bouncing in place, "Anyways, marchin' orders time? Figure we can stash this, reconvene, and then do the whole- offloading of goods when we ain't reekin' of sweat and stuff. Them hoity toity types- amirite?" And because Ina hasn't visited the Hanging Corpse yet.

Quintessa snickers at the fox lady. She was quite entertaining. "House Torradorks, got it." She was 100 percent going to accidently say that to the wrong person someday. The hex blade stoops over and hefts the heavy hammerhead back onto her shoulder before giving Trish a smirk. "I'm Quintessa," she says, "Of Black Pond. I already mentioned that bit." Her mismatches eyes glance behind her, half expecting the paladin to pop around the corner. "So, where we stashing this junk? Or should we split up? I'm headed back to Vailkrin anyway. My trip to the library is a bust, but I think this outcome was a lot more interesting anyway."

Arlyeon offers a small salute in return, and even stops jogging in place long enough to scrutinize her current partner in crime, "...I mean, ya taller 'n me." Who isn't taller than her at 5'1, really. "But you're -still- short fer a monster. I prefer my people eaters to be legendarily tall. ...So i can be elsewhere, long in advance." Grinning way too broadly, the foxkin wriggles her fingers forward in a motion for a handshake, offering up a very casual, "S'a pleasure ta make your acquaintance, though. 'M stashing my bit at the pub, cause I don't rightly think they'll care. Vailkrin n' Cenril don't see eye ta eye, so it should be safe. As fer splittin' up? You do you! I gots me things ta do." It's probably more petty larceny. "I'll catch up witcha' soon, though."

Quintessa grins, flashing a row of pointed teeth down at the shorter woman, "I knew you wouldn't measure up. Other women never do." When Arlyeon extends her hand, the changeling extends her own to grab it. "Yeah, we'll catch u-" Quintessa jerks her hand away, feeling her unlucky aura intensifying as a passive jinx sets upon the odd girl. "What was that." The hex blade has a pretty decent idea but she glowers down at the foxkin away. "Did you just curse me?" The changeling seems annoyed, but her posture is aggressive just yet. The newly bolstered unlucky aura pushes out uncontrollably as she opens her mouth to speak again, "I'll give you a chance to explain, but only because I like your tails." Quintessa is secretly jealous.

Arlyeon s grin never quite leaves her lips, but the way her ears fold back, in tandem with her tails flickering to a state of alertness gives away the sense of anxiety that just settled in, "What was Wh-" ...Oh. The C word. "N-N-Noooo?" She coughs into her hand, and then very casually glances up and to the sides of the alley, and a bit over the changelings shoulder, "I mean, not...intentional-like. N' like, cursing is -all- about intentional bits 'n malice, right? So, like, I didn't -cuuuuurse- you. Just, uh, borrowed ...sommat. Very intangible. Suuuuper small, even. Ya won't miss it." Quintessa's oppressive aura is managing to do an excellent job at making Ina's fight or flight reflex run -rampant- in that moment, her whiskers practically vibrating under the oppressive feeling of that unfortunate pulse of energy, "I mean, what's a little luck between fr- acquaintances?" The centures honed art of puppy eyes is being unleashed to it's fullest extent right now- and there is a certain degree of sincerity implict in the action, even. Because Ina is -highly- allergic to being eviscerated. Like. Deathly so, even.

Quintessa begins to growl lightly as the light of the alleyway dims around them, the mere presence of the hag-borne bending the light away from them. It seems like the jig is up for Ina... but the changeling's posture straightens up and she reels in her spooky aura. "Alright," not even the Monster of Black Pond is immune to the puppy dog eyes, "I'll let you off this one time but next time you need to borrow my luck, just ask. I haven't much to begin with. A walking disaster, in fact."

Arlyeon doesn't let out a sigh of relief. She wants to, quite badly- but there's something about the tension in the air that doesn't allow her to relax just yet. Instead, she's rather careful to fold her arms up behind her back, her fingers clasping together to keep them in place and prevent any more nervous fidgeting than whatever bits of coiling her tails are doing, "I mean, ja doin' finer n' dandier then most a' tha' disasters I've met. " or caused, as it were, " But, I'll bear that in mind. Still, if your luck is of the real sour sort to start with, ya might -wanna- be careful around me. I'm a disaster myself, " She seems -almost- proud of that fact, or at least to be able to say it with a certain degree of flourish, "but of a different sort. Let's just say if you happened to surprise me with a hug, ya woulda gotten ...jinxed all the same, or worse even. And I don't ever got a say in whether it happens or not." Her head cants off to the side there, if only for her to offer up a weird half-smile, "But that one's a secret, n' just cause you're being so sweet and not ...sword-swing-y. So, like, hush-hush on that, please. A girls gotta make a livin'." And not get lynched for the amount of card games she's effectively rigged over the years.

Quintessa lofts a brow at her, a smirk growing on her face, "No hugs, huh?" the smirk grows into a grin, her grim demeanor replaced by a curious one, "Or a kiss, either huh?" Quintessa felt like she understood the nature of curses enough to know what fox magic was at play here. "You're an interesting specimen. I'd love to study you some more..." her gaze slips away before her grin fades, "But we should leave. I'll find you in Vailkrin, you can count on that." And with that the hex blade headed north, looking for the exit of this horrible city.

Arlyeon s tails flick down at the mention of a kiss, though she's quick enough with a retort, still clasped hands now stretched out behind her back, "Not less you fancy courtin' disaster." That said, it's the mention of 'specimen' that is perhaps the most unsettling aspect to the foxkin, "I'll catch ya soon enough. Lemme know how that bit with the house goes- 'n well. Try -not- ta get your hopes up about pokin' n' proddin' me. I'm not the sort ta appreciate being poked, prodded, 'er caged." Still, that aside, she does still manage a fond little grin, before she veers off to take her own route to the city of the dead.