RP:From First Kiss To Running For Their Lives

Synopsis: Lanara is passed out on the beach from an injury, and Krystan approaches, as he's following a trio of thugs. Doing his assassin duties, he's supposed to find the location of the leader, and leave all of his targets alive. However, as Lanara is nearly attacked, the assassin puts his duties aside, and puts his life on the line, to save Lanara. The two share their first kiss, and then escape from the beach, knowing they are soon to be in grave danger, as a gang war will ensue.

Lanara :: The ocean waves lap noisily against the shore and the area is mostly dark, except for the full moon, lighting up the sand. The beach is vacant, aside from an occasional crab, and even Harold the swim instructor is off duty. A soft, feminine, whimper is audible over the sound of the waves, and if one looks to the eastern area of the beach, they would spy a dark-haired female, lying on her stomach, still, with her leg at an awkward angle. She dons a pale pink bikini, and her hair, which is slightly damp, is slowly beginning to curl at the tips, from the humidity. The bare left foot of the slender woman is tangled in seaweed, and she is completely defenseless, should any ill-mannered man travel here and take advantage of her curvaceous figure. To her left, is an enormous lion, growling at the elf, with a large paw, pressed possessively on her lower back. After a long moment, the woman seems even more still than before, and the whimpering ceases. Was that Lanara? Is she dead? Did the lion harm her? As the moonlight shifts directly upon the woman, highlighting the area, the lion gives a ferocious roar and runs off into the night, vanishing from sight.

Krystan has been tracking this particular group of thugs since they left the whaler's bar. Tonight’s job was information gathering, not outright murder, so the assassin was taking things easy. These blokes, three total, were absolutely plastered drunk by now, compliments of a well paid lady of the night that didn't want Krys' dagger buried in her gut. She flirted and kept the rounds coming, so she was able to live another day. After about an hour and a half of heavy drinking though, the mark and his two cronies decided it was time for a midnight stroll upon the beach. " Seein' if we kin' be seein' one o' dem fish-women!" Was the rally cry, followed by various obscene gestures of what they'd all like to do to these supposedly breathtaking beauties of the sea. So down the mist covered streets they went, bellowing out half-ass attempts at songs and bragging about their latest big score. Oh yes, that was the reason they were to be followed and not killed. And while Krystan is more than able to pry information out of people with even the hardiest of constitutions, his employer wanted to keep them alive, in case their disappearance caused the leader of their gang to move locations yet again. This job was in a line of a series of moves one gang has been making against a rather newer gang in the Cenrili underground. Krystan has been profiting quite well indeed from this, and the recent influx of work has kept him busy enough to perhaps push the woman who has captured his attention just enough out of his thoughts so he can maintain his dominate position as one of the top assassins in the port city. It wasn't long that the dubious trio was upon the beach that they come across the downed woman in a bikini, and the lion that seems to hold her captive. Now, given the lack of light, even with the moon out, even Krystan cannot make out who the woman is just yet. After all, she is face down and has a large cat atop her at the moment, which you'd think would sway these "fine" gents from trying to take advantage. But no, the vast amount of liquor ingested tonight has them riled up and looking for love in all the wrong places. “Oi boys! Lookin' here!" Bellows out the leader of this trio of drunken fools. “This big ole cat caught him a fish-woman!" The all laugh, and one throws a mostly empty bottle of liquor towards the cat to try to scare it off. Again, these guys are idiots. But the leader, hyped up on liquid courage, takes out a fine made axe that signifies his position within the gang, and yells to his men. "Oi! Quit yer' foolin' Evino! We're gun catch that cat, and have us some fun with that there fish woman, before we take 'er to the boss, aye?" Krystan, not knowing that woman is Lanara, simply continues to watch these events unfold from the concealment of the shadows. But, strangely enough his usual ability to be so emotionless that he could watch this all unfold and not flinch in the slightest, seems fazed from his recent interaction with the broom flying woman that has been on his mind non-stop. Fazed, but he is able to shrug it off. He was a professional, and this was work. He'd let this lot have their fun for now, and ensure they stay alive long enough to lead him to their hideout, so he could really begin to use his craft, and maybe find a trophy of his own.

Lanara fidgets in the sand, as the previous nightmare seems to return, and another whimper manages to escape. Smoke. Screams. Her mother’s grave. Talyara missing. Their home in shambles. Rolling onto her side, she extends both arms out, to wrap around something, and discovering that the ‘something’ wasn’t there, she immediately sits up, worried. Sand clings to her upper torso and thighs, and even with unruly hair and tear stained cheeks, the woman is still stunning to glance upon. “Taylor…?” She calls out; her voice hoarse, from just having woke up. Where had her beloved cat gone? Still somewhat drowsy, the empath senses the three drunken males, before they come into view. Filled with lust, the trio was determined to have their way with her, and then to possibly maim her body. Normally, she would need to touch their flesh, to get a reading, but the three were easy to read, in their inebriated state, as the thought of a ‘good time’ was coming through full force. Such surface thoughts, and what a pity that they would have to die, especially now that the elf was angry. Had they dared to harm her beloved feline? And now they wanted a piece of her? Rising to her feet, she nearly trips on the seaweed that was bound to one foot, though she doesn’t bother to remove it. Ever so slowly, she nears the trio, pointing to the dark skinned male in the center, and beckoning him nearer with her pointer finger. “I’d love to show all three of you a good time… But one at a time. There’s plenty of me to go around, boys.” A wink, and a hint of smile graces her lips, as she turns around and walks the opposite direction, a gentle sway in her step, as all three focus on her hips. As the male nears her, she quickly turns around and collides against his form, knowing that the hint of seduction would work in her favor. Lana and the thug were approximately a hundred feet from the other two, who were taking bids on who would have their turn next, though she was hoping that would be enough of a distance to escape. “Hi… Give me your hand…” She instructs, trying not to vomit as she inhales the liquor on the leering male’s breath. “Sure, baby doll, you can have this one, but the other? That’s for me to use!” He grunts, pawing at Lanara’s rear and forcing her figure against his own, while obediently offering the empath use of his free right hand. Feigning a smile, she takes his hand and raises it to her full lips, as though she wished to kiss the appendage, though her chocolate brown hues turn almost black. “Don’t you ever touch me again…” She hisses, as she forces thoughts of self-harm into the male’s mind, as she interlocks fingers and glares into his bloodshot hues. Moments later, the male turns tail and runs down the beach and into the ocean, only to vanish beneath the waves. The remaining two thugs cry out to their friend, exclaiming that he doesn’t know how to swim, and that the ‘mermaid’ must be a witch! Realizing they were smarter than she gave them credit for, Lana turns to escape, but trips over the seaweed and lands hard on the sand, slicing her cheek with a seashell.

Krystan watches the scene unfold from a safe enough distance that the drunks couldn't possibly see him, while maintaining the use of his shadow step ability’s limited range should he need to get in close. Being in the rear of all of this, the trio of drunken thugs block the shorter woman's figure from view, and, having no real desire to intervene and play "hero" for some foolish girl passed out on the shores of Cenril, he didn't feel the need to move to a better vantage point. That was until the woman spoke. That voice was the one that lingers in his thoughts daily, and instantly it clicks. Slurs of curses course through the assassin's mind at this revelation, especially since his job was to ensure these fools get to their hideout tonight so he could claim his payday. But then Lanara uses her gifts, and one of the damn fools rushes into the ocean, and due to the cries of warning from his fellow idiots, apparently is going to his own death! Damn it all to hell! But still, Lanara's own abilities to manipulate these men causes the assassin to suddenly wonder if she used such a power upon him. Too many thoughts now course through his mind. But he is a man who rules his own mind and body, and so he pushes all other thoughts out of the way, for now, so he can once more focus upon the task at hand. How could he salvage this situation? As if to add a timer to his own thoughts, the two remaining thugs decide that the witch will die for sending one of their own to his death. They fan out, flanking Lanara on both the right and left, each armed with simple weapons. The taller of the two left, with tanned flesh and muscular arms carries with him a longsword that signals a former affiliation with the City Watch. And even drunk, he carries himself with a swagger of a man who has seen his fair share of battles in his time. The younger of the pair, a weasel-like fellow with pale skin and reddish-brown hair, is armed with a metal-studded club, a common tool for initiates in the numerous gangs in the city. The way he nearly trips over the sand-dunes signals to Krystan that the young lad obvious cannot handle his liquor, and is thus piss drunk to the point he isn’t too much of a threat, aside from making dumb mistakes. Then again, there is Lanara, who seems to be allowing her anger to guide her actions. Emotions, such useless tools for murder. Cold and calculating as he is, such things as feelings are only weaknesses that can be exploited. So it is within mere moments that a plan is derived from the calculating mind of the assassin, and with skills and abilities honed through his many years within his chosen profession does he go about executing it. The pale light of the moon casts shadows all over the shoreline, and it is the very shadow of the taller thug that is utilized by the assassin to close the distance between the killer and his prey. The Shadow Arts is a very old path that has been mastered by only a few remaining elders within the realm. It’s both not magical and magical all the same. You see, various abilities are derived from the Shadow Arts to such a degree that masters of the craft have been called demons, or shades in times past, adding to their already horrifying reputations as master killers. In his years under the tutelage of his sensei, Krystan has been able to use some of these abilities. Right now he is using the shadow step ability, which seems to the untrained eye as a sort of teleportation spell, but in reality is him simply traveling through the Plane of Shadow, which is a mirrored realm of the material plane. The shadows cast by the light can be used as pathways into this realm, and those trained in the arts, can open and close these pathways. So, tonight, the taller and more able thug’s own shadow provides Krystan with such a pathway, right to his own flank, where his exposed neck becomes the resting place of a wicked looking jeweled dagger that has a very dark reputation within the criminal elements of Cenril’s underground. Throughout his years working for various criminal lords, Krys’ name has never stuck with anyone, part of his own rules to never offer a name that can be tracked. He has many “pet names” From the demon, to Death’s Shadow to the more recent “Hunter” title that Zirael has given him. But, more than any name he uses, his signature weapon is that dagger. When the light catches the razor’s edge and shines off of the jeweled hilt, the thug knows death is upon him. Pressing the blade against the man’s flesh, allowing him to feel the vampiric ability to drain the life force from its victim, Krystan’s cold voice whispers into the man’s ear. “Yield or you shall feel the hunger of my blade.” While the youngest of the pair is still unaware of what is transpiring, the former soldier knows when he is beat, and better yet knows who now has him at such a critical disadvantage. “ Aight, aight, I’m done.” Replies the man, who drops his sword into the sand at his feet. Krystan replies by saying. “Run back to your boss, and tell him I saved your sorry asses... or rather, yours.” Never one to leave loose ends, Kry suddenly moves with blinding speed to reach down and take out a throwing dagger, which he flicks with expert skill without even looking at the youngest of the pair. Tumbling end over end the knife finds its mark in the kid’s throat, the lad’s drunken stupor making it so he didn’t even know what was going on as he drowns on his own blood, falling into the sand, dead within moments. The thug still held captive gets the message. He knows the game, the beach was neutral territory for all gangs, and the kid’s death was the price for them trying to operate within it. What he didn’t know, was that in the same moment as he threw the dagger, Krystan slipped a rather unique coin into the man’s pocket. For what purpose remains known only to him, but knowing his job is done, he shoves the thug away. The former soldier wastes no time running down the beach, leaving his dead comrades behind as self-preservation takes over, leaving only the lion, the witch and the assassin standing upon the shoreline now.

Lanara rises to her feet, as the thug runs past her, fleeing the scene, and not once glancing her way. Confusion reigns, until the woman turns around and sees a dagger pierce the flesh of the younger of the thugs. As the male clutches his throat, and blood stains the sand, Lanara’s face shows a mixture of emotions, until she follows the path of the dagger and squints her eyes. Shadows lurked, though the moon provided enough light to discern that it was the figure of a male. The lion had returned to the beach, during the scuffle, and nuzzles the empath’s seaweed wrapped ankle and foot, looking up at her with amber eyes. Without taking her eyes off of the being in the shadows, and not yet knowing that it was the male she had been yearning to see, she strokes the feline’s mane. Was this male going to murder her, next? She hadn’t meant to harm the male, she was merely defending herself. And this was only the second time, in her twenty-five elf years that she had used her precious gift for nefarious means. Was karma here to deliver its punishment? Shivering, as if she was suddenly cold, she merely wraps her arms around her mid-section and limps over to the figure, never one to hide from an encounter. The lion trots at her side, and in mid-strode, morphs into a black housecat, as quick as one would blink an eye. The transformation doesn’t seem to disturb Lanara, as she hobbles over to the male, wincing in pain. Apparently the seaweed wrap wasn’t there for show, but to wrap an injury, which would explain why the witch was unarmed, on a private beach, in the middle of the night. Those big brown, expressive, eyes, would raise to see the male, should he step from the shadows. Not knowing what would come of this, Lana hopes it’s a hero and not another that wishes to bring her harm. A thin trickle of blood has dried on her left cheek, from the seashell injury earlier, and the woman stands to her full five foot, five inches, and bites her lower lip, in suspense.

Krystan‘s eyes lock upon the approaching witch as a series of emotions flood over him as well. Her injury is noted now, and again he feels a desire to ensure she is alright, but these thoughts are replaced by flashes of her manipulating one of his target’s and thus he grows cautious of her approach. Will she pull him under her charm again? Did she do it before? The lion’s transformation into a cat is noted as well, but it is Lanara and those eyes of hers that hold the assassin’s attention still. It is here, and without any warning to himself, that he steps forth from the shadows to reveal himself. As it was, this wasn’t too helpful, but it is his next action that catches even him a bit off guard. He knew what he was doing, yet he didn’t stop himself. He removes the hood, and then lowers the mask hiding his face to reveal his features to the empathic witch. A few moments pass, before he says. “It’s not catching you from a falling broom, but I’d say its close enough.” Was he joking? Did he just attempt to ease the situation by cracking a damn joke? Holy hell, he must be spellbound by her abilities, yet, he cannot suppress the smirk that forms upon his lips. As if time has returned to its normal flow, and in the event she doesn’t catch on to his joke, the assassin just outright asks the woman. “I want to know how you did that, how you got that dumbass to simply run to his own death.” Allowing his eyes to lock onto hers, that icy-blue gaze of his seems to shine in the light of the moon, he finishes with. “And did you ever use it on me?” The damn fool. Not only did he just reveal himself to her, but he is more concerned with the fact she may have put him under a spell, rather than the startling revelation of what he is being placed out before them. But still, he holds his gaze upon her, his own emotions seeming to yearn for her to say the right thing to make everything right. Don’t say yes. Gods abound, Do-Not! Tell me you used that against me, plays over and over in his mind. The killer, a soulless murderer for hire, feels as if his own life may be on the line with her answer, and everything else happening right now doesn’t matter. He wants, no he –needs- to know if what he has been feeling was real, or some fabrication of this witch’s design to subjugate him to her in some twisted manner.

Lanara is speechless as the mask is lowered, and she stares into those blue eyes that she had come to think about, every waking moment of her life. Not in dreams, no, her dreams were reserved for constant nightmares about the past and only time would tell if he would glue her broken heart back together. The urge to hug the male was too great, and she was about to, though his words were like a slap in the face, causing the woman to mentally and physically reel back. Even Taylor glanced up at the change of emotion, before prancing off, to give the couple their privacy. “I… I… I would never… I’m an empath. And a witch… I hate that you had to see me like that. I have only used my ‘gift’ twice…For evil. And both were in self defense. I am too weak to perform any magic, I… I had an accident, after work last night. I came here to get some sand, and the pain was so bad that I fainted. I had no choice… I didn’t –want- to kill him. You have no idea what he wanted to do to me. To my body… To… I have never done anything with anyone before, you know… Sex? I never have even been kissed or on a date. And like hell was I going to let him ruin me. I… I can sense another’s feelings, well, surface feelings. I can only gather a deep sense, upon touch. I have never touched you and forced my thoughts into you. I feigned thoughts of destruction into that man, and he killed himself. I… I am glad that you don’t know how I truly am feeling about you… And I only force my thoughts, or feelings, into another when it’s necessary. Like… To calm someone down, or to cheer them up. I… I would never force you to be my friend, or give me a flower, or… Save my life. Thanks, by the way…” The elf glances off; offended that he would think she would have bewitched him, in any way. Lana had a myriad of unique skills, but betrayal was not one of them. Eyes welling with tears, she glances up at the moon, blinking quickly, and vowing not to let a single droplet fall. Rarely was the woman weak, defenseless, or a damsel in distress… But Krystan seemed to lower her inhibitions and throw her guard to the wind, lower those walls she spent years building to keep those that wished her harm, out. “I… I -thought I had feelings- for two men, like ‘love’ feelings. Ansel and Krice. Different times, like weeks apart… But… It was just because they were kind to me, and looked out for me. What I… What I have for you is different. And I’m scared. And I want to never see you again. But… I also want to die in your arms. Or see you when I go to sleep and when I wake up. I can’t describe it. And… I barely know you. They both rejected me, obviously, and nothing ever happened more than talking or a hug… Not that you need to worry, because, I’m a stranger, and Goddess! Why am I telling you all of this? You probably think I’m just toying with you again… But I never did. Honest.”

Krystan listens to every word so well he could almost recite back to her, her own rushed rambling of an explanation. He takes a few moments to process what she says, but mainly to study her. You see, he has developed his own talents from dealing with the various types of people he has to come across in his world. From snitches, to thugs, politicians to priests. He has seen lies of every kind, and noted the varying effects and signs of when someone is, and isn’t, telling the truth. Fear was often a key sign, but for both. He could tell Lanara was scared, but she seemed more scared of driving him away than of him wanting to harm her. Many things course through his mind, but he is as new to this as she, and emotions are a bitch of a thing during such situations. He doesn’t know why, but as she nears the end of her long winded speech he closes the distance, wraps his right arm about her lithe waste and pulls her close, pressing his lips against hers in a moment of heated passion. Since they are touching, she will feel many emotions. Confusion and fear among them, but the most dominant ones will be an overwhelming sensation of attraction, as well as the sensation one gets when you’re terribly worried about someone, but you find out they are ok. He knows damn well what those men wanted to do to her, he has seen it before. Once he knew it was her, those thoughts and images fueled him into action, where once he wouldn’t have lifted a finger. Truth be told he killed the younger of the pair not out of some blood debt for working in neutral ground, but because he –wanted- to. Because that fool dared to think about laying a finger upon her. He sent a message that the survivor understood. He was allowed to live to inform all others that she was off limits, under penalty of death. So yes, in the heat of all of that, Krystan kisses Lanara to both stop her ramblings, but to also display his own feelings for her in the only way he could, since he didn’t have the words to do so. After a few long moments of the embrace, Krystan opens his eyes to stare into hers, saying. “You’re alright, that’s all that matters.”

Lanara is about to open her mouth once more, to defend her honor, and to continue telling the truth, when Krystan pulls her close. Their eyes lock for a brief moment before his lips are upon hers, and the witch, quite literally, feels her walls come crashing down, the rubble spreading around their entwined form. The sound of waves crashing against the shore, the smell of the salty ocean air, the taste of his lips upon hers, and the touch of his arms around her, is the most wonderful feeling she has ever experienced. Love. Lanara was falling in love. It was finally happening! She felt more for this stranger in two days, than any man in her entire life. It was wonderful! Lana’s long lashes flutter against Krystan’s cheekbones, as her arms wrap tightly around his shoulders, the woman standing on her good foot, on tippy toes, to deepen the kiss. As he pulls away from the embrace, she leans in, not wanting the moment to end, and merely allows her gaze to linger upon his, saying, “Likewise.” Unsure of their next action, and her foot and ankle aching, she leans her figure against his, for support, and so she could be as close as possible to his form. Arms are lowered to around his torso, as she sighs, contentedly. She felt his attraction, his concern, and his confusion, with a hint of fear, and knew it was only fair for the empath to return his gift, though she would ask his consent, first. “Do you want to feel what I feel?”

Krystan is almost so lost in the moment that he forgot the very real danger lurking in the darkness. Not only would the survivor have possibly gotten back to his boss, who will send more men, but they lurk so close to the ocean, to -her- domain, that the assassin fears his current master may be watching at this very moment! So, acting on this the man easily sweeps the smaller woman up into his arms while she was mid-way into her offer of letting him feel as she does, offering only. “Save that for later, for now, I've got to get you away from here." There is urgency in his action, and the emotions he feels most right now isn't fear, as he lacks that mostly, but rather concern. Not for himself, but her. He can fend off any amount of thugs, but two enemies were made today, and they may set aside their own differences to try to take out a dangerous foe. Krystan may have been the hero today, but he also may have started a war where -he- is the prey. "You'll stay at my place tonight." Wasn't an offer. "I've some herbs to help heal you, and I can better get you out of this damn city tomorrow." Even her broom wouldn't keep her out of the grasp of some of these criminal elements. Krys wasn't the only capable killer making a name for himself. "Lanara." He said her name, and it tasted so sweet coming off of his tongue. "I'll keep you safe, but you must listen to me. Do not try to help, in this place, in -this- city; I know what’s best, ok?" And with that, he'd start off with the witch in his capable arms. She can talk all she wants, but unless she has some means to break free of his strong embrace, she was going to be carried to his place. No one knows who he is, what he looks like, nor that he has a place nestled within the heart of Cenril. Hiding in plain sight. It was a simple place, as to not draw attention to himself, but it was his home. Looking to the cat, the assassin says. "You too." Adding in a nod for the magical beast to follow.

Krystan carries the woman through the many alleys and roads less travelled without ever once faltering or tiring. His extensive training and top physical condition making it a simple task. On the way several children run across them, all nodding to the assassin before they make their way off into the shadows again. His eyes and ears, helping him map out who is where when needed, like now. The children help him, and he watches out for them. Like he said, he has a weak spot for the kids. Waiting in the ally just across from the inn, he waits. Several children rush forth from across the way, causing a distraction that gains the attention of the city guard as well as some thugs who are all in some gang’s pocket. While they are distracted the assassin slips into the tavern, in which he has a tight and well founded bond with the owner. The pair nods towards one another in passing, before the elderly man would make his way to the door and lock it, faking a quick break as to buy the assassin time to get to his room and secure it.

Lanara is unable to protest as she’s literally lifted into Krystan’s arms, as though she were his bride and about to be carried over a threshold. Frowning, she doesn’t kick or claw, as most women would if a man they had know for such a little time were taking them hostage, she merely remains silent in his arms. Taylor prances along; matching the assassin’s footing, step for step, until they arrive at their location. Entering the middle of town, Lana looks left and right, and pats Krystan on his shoulder, realizing just then, how petite she was, compared to his stature. The man could break her in half, with one arm, though he was so gentle, and cared deeply for her well being. It was flattering, and confusing, all at once. “Krystan… I can walk from here… And I doubt you will have the herbs I need. I am burned. Bad. And… The danger is gone. Those thugs, well… Thug, I should say. You scared him off. He’s not going to bother searching for me. I’m just a typical woman. He can find that at any brothel, nearby. Trust me… I will be fine. I’m flattered for your concern, and I’d love to continue our time together, but you really don’t have to open your home to me… And to Taylor.” Her words seem unheard, as she’s whisked into the tavern, and carried into a single bed room.

Krystan ignored the woman as he knew she's protest. She doesn't know the power, and the reach, of the gang's of Cenril. Two of which he has pissed off tonight, which never ends well for most men. One is a founding gang, old and well established. The other, a newer gang that is quickly rising in power, and leaving body after body in its wake. Many of which Krys has had a hand in, more often in a personal manner. The door closed, the faint whisperings of the elderly shop-keep can be heard. The door seems to meld into the wall, vanishing to be replaced by "solid" wood. A clever illusion and one that has held up for quite some time. This fancier room for rent is a special room, for special guests. Krystan has been here for a while now, keeping gangs from gaining anything over the shop keep, and the shop keep offering him a sanctuary when he is "off work". The children too, are orphans he helps feed and clothe. In exchange for their eyes and ears in the streets, not a single thug will dare lay a hand on one. Last time a new blood forgot the warning, he found out what really lurks in the shadows. His mutilated body was hung up as a final warning, the message was received. Laying Lana down upon the comfortable full sized bed, Krystan goes about opening up various cub boards and the like, revealing a variety of herbs that go far beyond simple teas and salves. From rare and poisonous plants, to specimens of snakes and other useful creatures are all kept, comfortably mind you, at close hand. Turning to the witch, the man says. “You’ll find plenty here." In a manner of which is to refute her claims he doesn't have what she needs. He smirks a bit, and if she is quick she may catch it. Doubt him? She'll be surprised at what he has learned over his career, let alone the resources and supplies he has. While he gives her free reign, making his way across the room towards another cabinet that is filled with all sorts of weapons and gear, tools of the trade, he says. “Be wary, the taipan is aggressive, and the viper is a clever girl." Just as he says this, the viper sheds its concealment against the glass, making its bright green scales plain to see as if it understood the game was up. The taipan curls in on itself, heaving heavily as to signal its desire to attack. Spiders, snakes and lizards of all kinds litter almost half of that side of the room, while plants of all types dominate the other. If Lanara can't find a useful herb, flower, or root here, she isn't looking. Krystan goes to work methodically, and without wasting a moment in his preparations. Already his cunning mind was mapping out their escape, while he waits on information from a trusted source.

Lanara seems fine, through pretty much everything, even though she politely protests, not seeing any real danger lurking nearby. It seemed odd to her that the shop keep and the children all seemed to be in some sort of cahoots, and that maybe Krystan was much more than he led on to be. But then again… She didn’t know him, did she? No… She knew his name, and that he lived in Cenril. Oh, and he was incredibly handsome, and a good kisser. Nice, Lana, being held hostage by a man you barely know, and being held hostage in a single bed room, no less. Still, she seems to trust the male, and not mind his company, regardless of how odd it all seemed. As she’s laid upon the bed, she gives a faint smile to the male, and hugs Taylor close to her chest, as the feline purrs and curls up at her side. Still donning a bikini, and not wanting to spill sand on the bed, she awkwardly slides from the bed and with a towel, dabs at any remaining sand. The towel is then dipped into the water, where she proceeds to wash her face and finger-comb her tousled locks. Once cleaned up, she limps over the cupboards and begins to pull out all of the supplies she would need to clean the wound, heal the burn, and bandage it. Not really listening to Krystan, as her foot was pounding, she limps the opposite direction, to lay out her medicines on the small end table, when a viper hurls itself at the glass, sending Lanara to fall to the carpet, and scream. “Krystan!” She cries, covering her eyes and shaking like a leaf, feeling every bit the wimp that she was around snakes. “I… I’m –terrified- of snakes!” Swallowing hard, and trying desperately to control her breathing and slow her heart rate, she literally crawls as fast as she can in the opposite direction, only to peer up at him, over the other side of the bed. The empath had a way with all animals, all but snakes, which left her panic stricken. It seemed they were beginning to know each other’s weaknesses, tonight.

Krystan finishes his task quickly enough, though her panicked scream gains his attention briefly, he smirks again as he says. "Warned you." Right as he says that, there is a gentle rasp at the door, with someone saying. “Housekeeping." Krys then knocks three times upon the wall, to which someone knocks twice, pauses, then twice again. Unlocking a latch nearby, a small slot opens up quick, a package is tossed in, and then Krys closes the latch again. It all happens so fast, so smooth that one would hardly notice really. Without looking at it, the assassin says to Lanara. "In the bag are some clothes.” He passes by and scoops up the note attached and reads it quickly, deciphering the code through years of practice. “We’ve time to prepare; the gangs have yet been spurred into action, but...” He finishes reading, and shakes his head. “But there is a meeting going down soon, and that isn't good." He holds the note over a nearby candle, burning the paper to ash. Leave no trace. “We’ve time to tend to your wound. So please...” He slows himself down now, having forgotten that many are not used to such fast pacing. He smiles, a genuine one too, as he offers his hand to help the near naked woman up. “You’ve clothes, and you've food on the way too." He helps her up, to help her once more to sit on the bed, before he'd bend down to look at her foot. “Upper right corner, you'll find what you need.” He nods to the herbal cabinet. “As for those...” he looks to the snakes, and smirks.” Just pull down the blind over it, they won't bother you." He rises again, and set back to working things out. He asks. “Do you have somewhere to go? Family? Friends? People you trust, with your life?" All he needed now was a direction.

Lanara remains shaking, as she accepts the offered hand, and stares at him wide-eyed. Clothes? Food? Snakes? What the heck was going on? The bag of clothing was ignored, as was tending to her wound, though it was harder to ignore her growling stomach. “I am –not- staying in a room with snakes. I’m perfectly fine with this little charade, whatever you want to call it, but –not- the snakes. I am a good elf, Krystan. I… I don’t plan on running away from you. I won’t tell anyone what happened on the beach tonight. And… I literally have no place to go. I am not going to put anyone else in danger, if there is any… Can you please just tell me what’s going on? I… I’m not some novice with magic. I am fully capable of handling myself, in –any- situation, unless it involves snakes… And I’m not some weak little girl. I don’t need to be rescued. You just caught me on a very bad night. I hate that you saw me so weak… But ask around… I’m not to be reckoned with, and I will be fine if I just head out…” Turning her back to the male, she lowers her head, and sighs, hoping he would give her a reason to stay, though hoping they weren’t in serious danger.

Krystan stops what he is doing, and places both hands against a nearby desk as he releases a sigh. It was now or never, huh? She needed to know, because she wants to leave, which is a foolish endeavor right now. “Lanara, you've been open with me, so...” Was he really about to do this? To hell with it, he is what he is. “I’m an assassin. I was raised to be one, and I'm a damn good one. You stumbled into a war between gangs, those men? Those men were marks I was to follow back to their hideout, and then kill." He doesn't even flinch. "But, I failed. I don't know their hideout's location. And my employer, one of the most powerful criminal lords in Cenril, doesn't except failure." He won't add the fact he has never failed. " But, I let the one live to make it seem as if you were my mark, my target, so that his people's deaths were on -my- head, not yours." He gives a slight moment, but continues, she needs to know all of it. “These men have means of making even the dead talk. And if I did not intervene, and you killed all of them, you'd be a target. So, I took your place, but there is still the threat of your face becoming known to them, and if that happens..." He sighed. “If that happens you won’t be safe, not even outside the city, but so very much more so within the walls of this damned place." He knows this place so well; he knows the power these types of men have. "They can reach to even as far as Frostmaw, if they desired. So, we must be gone, and leave as little of a trace as possible behind, so that they hopefully view tracking us as too costly an endeavor, and thus give up." It was a long shot, but hopefully tensions between the two gangs would help that along. But in Cenril, a shot at one gang that goes unanswered makes all gangs look vulnerable. And a majority of the gang’s power comes from their seemingly limitless reach, and their own unreachable status. “I know this is all too much. Impossible, let alone what you may now think of me, but... for better or worse between us, Lanara, I will make sure you escape this hell that I call home."

Lanara wants to cry, so bad, but she is terrified of appearing even weaker than he already thinks of her, so instead she merely sniffles and dares not to face him. An assassin? She never would have guessed that, not in a million years. He melded into shadows and he was quick with a dagger, but… He would kill others, for some gold coin? It all seemed absurd to the witch, and so… Impossible. Lana was closely aligned with the assumption of a healer, and Krystan was a bringer of death. Two complete and utter opposites that were falling hopelessly in love. Would this end in disaster? Death? Broken hearts? The urge to dissolve into tears was growing stronger and stronger, add to the fact that it was –her- fault, and that was all it took for tears to make their way down her cheeks. Lovely. So far he had seen her on three different occasions, looking unkempt. He had to save her life and in turn, risk his, and he saw her reaction to the snakes. Now, she was crying like a baby. Where had the strong-willed, stubborn, no holds barred, Lanara gone? Through her tears, she answers, though she still won’t look at him, not now. “I’m so sorry… I didn’t mean to make any trouble. I know this is all inadvertently my fault, and now there’s a target on your back. What if I just offer myself to them…? Will they let you go, then? I can tell them you are dead… That I lured you back to my place, seduced you, and put a dagger in your heart. We can go back and remove parts of that man you killed! I will say that is all that remains of you, and if they kill me… It’s fine. Really. I would rather be dead, than asked to leave. I’m not the type of girl that runs from a battle, Krystan. And I would rather save you. I owe you, now. And… What happens after this? With us? I mean… I… I know it was probably just a kiss; maybe you were confused with failing your orders… Maybe it’s just an attraction on your part. I need to leave, right now. My plan will work.” Sniffling, and choking through her sobs, the woman picks up the sleeping black cat, and turns to the door.

Krystan said to Lanara, "First thing, since we're gonna need to get to know one another, is I don't do anything I don't want to. I knew what was gonna happen, and I chose that anyway. Why? Because I chose you over what I do for a living. Do I know what that means just yet? Not entirely. But, you mean more than my life of killing and waiting to be killed. SO, take that as you will. But realize that what I am doing now is because I care about you. And, truth be told, Lanara, I don't care about many people at all. So please, let me get you somewhere safe. -Please-. We can figure out everything else at the right pace, but right now, let me do what I do best. And that is deal with the chaos and death that is Cenril. Ok?" Lanara said to Krystan, “I don’t want you to change who or what you are, because of me… I will admit your career choice… It’s hard to digest. But I still have feelings for you, and that won’t change. Unless… You kill someone I care for, deeply. It would be like you turning me into a murderer. Won’t happen. I guess… Accepting the man, means accepting the lifestyle? But… There are other paths you could take, you know? If you ever wanted to change, on your own free will. Like a guard, or a detective, or a bodyguard for hire? No…Not a bodyguard, it would probably be a beautiful woman and with my jea- Right… We can talk about all of that, some other time… Fine… I am all pointed ears… What’s the plan?” Krystan said to Lanara, "The plan involves me calling in every favor I am owed. The gates are locked down, the port is under heavy guard, and even your broom won’t get you far. So, I'm going to smuggle you out. But I need you rested, and I need you able to move, and quickly. So, look over those herbs, you'll find what you need to help your burn, and give you some strength to use that foot. But most of all, I need you to tell me where to take you, so I can plan accordingly." Lanara said to Krystan, Um…Sage Forest! We will be safe, there. I am an elf, and I’m light on my feet and I know the forests well. Plus… I have all sorts of animals there to protect me, and I know of a vacant tree-house, that we can hide in. I will need my things though… But Thunder will find me, or he’ll send Delilah. My pets will find me, regardless, of where I am. Do you have a knife? It would heal me much faster… If I could use blood magic. I would have to cut you… Or I can use the herbs.

Krystan is suddenly reminded of something as she talks, but first produces a dagger from seemingly out of nowhere, before he knocks on the wall three times, to hear “Housekeeping?" He replies with. "Bring the other package in, please.” A slight pause, before one could hear. “Um... now, sir?" Smirking, the assassin says. “Yes, now." Several moments pass, with Krys hiding a smirk as he says. “You know, I was going to tell you, but slowly, and at a better time." Two knocks come, followed by a pause, before two more knocks. Krys unlatched the sliding door, and in slides another, bigger and squarer package. Rustling can be seen, and some small noises heard, as the man says. “Even got this for you, to try the whole... woo-ing... thing?" He starts to think he sounds like an idiot, but he says. “You should open this one, now." Lanara grasps the dagger tightly in her hand, it wasn’t her trusted athame, but it would do. Gently, she takes Krystan’s hand and dips the edge of the blade into his palm, watching as the blood starts to pool. She then, dips the same blade into the sole of her left foot, wincing in pain, as she has to cut through the burns. The towel from earlier is placed on the floor so that their blood doesn’t stain the carpet, as she pulls his hand over her foot and allows the blood to trickle into her wound. Krystan would feel slightly weak, for a moment or two, until her wound is full of his blood. Lanara speaks in a foreign language, while waving her hand three times clockwise over the wound. Within minutes the wound is sealed, though still very sore, though by morning the scars and burns will have faded. “Thanks…” She mutters, aiming to bandage his palm, though she’s distracted by the packages. “A… A present?! You didn’t have to get me anything! I… I didn’t know that we were supposed to exchange gifts.”

Krystan doesn't wince as the blade pierces him, and though he does feel the effect of her magic, pain and such ailments are something he is trained to ignore. It’s her gift that he watches, waiting for her to open. “You don't owe me anything. Just, I hope you like it." A small, sweet moan can be heard from within as the box rustles a little more.

Lanara quirks a brow at Krystan, and inches nearer to the box, halting as it rustles and a soft moan is heard. A breathtaking smile sweeps across the woman’s features as she opens the box, guessing it contains some sort of animal. Thankfully, snakes don’t moan.

Krystan watches as Lanara finally opens the box, to which a small baby red panda crawls out from to look up at the witch with its surprisingly green, eyes. I saved it from being sold to a cruel man, who was gonna raise it so he could make a coat out of it. Such is what Cenril is about." He watches to see how the witch will react, saying. "After our talk, and seeing you with the boar, I figured you could offer it a better life."

Lanara squeals as the small, red, panda exits the box and crawls over to her, nuzzling her knee, and craving affection. The animal was so small and likely taken from its mother far too early, though Lana would become his new mother, and be sure to give him the best life imaginable. Krystan was forgotten about, for the moment, as the witch lifts the animal into her arms and cradles it against her chest. “Hi, sweet baby… You are so precious! I… I’m going to spoil you and shower you with love! Wait until you meet my other four pets, you will fit right in!” The bond is instantly formed, as the panda nuzzles her neck and looks up into her eyes, Lanara cooing and cuddling the tiny creature. After a long while, she lowers the panda to the floor, and watches as he crawls over to rest beside Taylor, who merely huffs and goes to sleep. “Thank you, Krystan. He’s adorable!!! I will love him, forever. He’s the best present I have ever received!” Smiling, from ear to ear, she shyly wraps her arms around the man, in a tight hug.

Krystan is still getting used to all of this, but today has just been one hell of a day. Going with it was the only option. He hugs the woman back, saying. "I've sent for food specific to its needs, but I'm sure you'll find a way to make it happy. But, for now, I need to finish preparing, and then we need to try to sleep, ok?" The man sighs, he was getting tired, and he needed to be at peak to pull off this escape. He looks to the bed, and says. “You can sleep on it, I've a cot, and I won't be arguing about it. You're injured, and you've your pets. They can sleep with you." With that, the man goes about setting up the cot, while getting ready for bed. He takes off his armored vest, tossing it to the side. Then his black shirt comes off, revealing his muscular body. Several scars criss cross it, some very old and faded and some relatively new. Part of the trade, like any kind of warrior. He goes to wash his face, while kicking off his boots. It’s been a long day.

Lanara can’t help but stare at Krystan’s physique, nor can she help the blush that inhabits her cheeks. Grinning, she sheepishly lowers her eyes, thinking that she’s a very lucky lady. As he mentions taking the cot, she frowns, and waits for him to go and wash his face. As he’s distracted, she lifts the sleeping cat, and drowsy panda into her arms and settles them on the newly set-up cot. Kissing them each on the tip of their noses, she slides beneath the covers of the large bed, and pats the opposite side, when Krystan looks her way. “We’ve already kissed, told all of our big secrets, used blood magic, and we’re on the run… I don’t see how sleeping next to each other is any worse.” A faint laugh escapes the elf, as she points to the snakes, glaring at them from behind the glass. “We can cuddle…” She offers, peering up at the male.

Krystan smirks at the elf, before he looks at the young panda as it nuzzles on the black cat that seems to tolerate it, because it’s now part of its master’s family. Lanara is the focus of his attention, as he stalks towards the bed in a playful manner, before getting in and laying down, making sure she has room to snuggle up and lay her head on him, while he wraps an arm about her. He won't argue, and he won’t make any unwanted advances. She smells like the ocean, which is nice. Together they'd all fall asleep.