RP:Luck of the Rabbit

This is a Rogue's Guild RP.

Summary: Pretenses and turn-of-phrase abound in this "chance" encounter between a cloaked pair of rogues and a new, unsettling face.

Rough Range, Xalious Mountains

Azelea could be found standing on a patch of the uneven terrain of the path by the stall that belonged to Albert. The woman of nearly six feet in height was leaned over resting her elbows on the table with her chin settled on both palms. With long silky black locks falling over her shoulder to form a barrier around her face it was hard to tell if she was intently listening to the human or simply having a conversation with the man about his wares. A sudden breeze of chilled air sweeping along the path sent the black skirt of her long gown billowing around her long slender legs while also carrying her laugh floating down the path. It sounded held a sweet soft tune that was opposite the dark appearance of the woman from her black boots to her gown to even those ink colored stands of hair attached to her head. After a few moments the exchange of coin for a small handful of something small and white was happening. It was not the stranger buying from the human, but the human buying from the lady. Long fingers closed around the golden coins as Azelea slowly stood speaking to the man in a voice sweet as honey, “May you be blessed by the luck of the rabbit.” Turning to walk away from the stall with a smirk on pink lips as the female had turned the tables on the vender. Two steps away and she could already tell his luck was changing hearing him dropping his product that he tried to sell her as he went to put it away.

Eleanor rode along the craggy path, astride a black and chestnut mare; the reins held loose in a gloved hand near the saddle's horn. Layer upon layer of cloak and hood shrouded her in the long shadows of evening, with no more than crimson lips twisted into a nebulous frown revealed below. The horse's trot was leisurely, picking up the uneven path with trained skill and comfortable familiarity. El needed to provide little guidance outside of the subtle squeeze of her thighs or nudge of her heel against the beast's flank, and for most intents and purposes, the spellrogue appeared just as comfortable as her four-legged companion. The tittering sound of saccharine laughter echoed around the earth, and it was only then that the woman surreptitiously straightened in the saddle, shoulders back, head canted to the side. A fringe of flax and wheat swept along her brow, effectively concealing the iron diadem the spellrogue was rarely without. The mare slowed into a walk as they approached Albert's stall, and below the cowl of her hood, El's lips pressed together in a knowing smile, tempered into hiding in the corner of her mouth. Her sharp celadon eyes shifted from Albert, who stumbled about to collect the misplaced product, toward the unfamiliar woman leaving the scene of the sale. Drawing the mare to a stop altogether, the rogue called out from her seat in her husky brogue, " 'Luck ay th' rabbit,' aye? Is 'at some new sayin' in these parts?"

Leoxander didn’t have any trouble tracking down Eleanor’s location, despite that she was the skilled leader of rogues. Nor, curiously, did he have much trouble keeping up with her mount, despite heavy footwear and harnessed weaponry, hidden beneath a hooded jacket or inside a military laced boot. Caught up to her in mere moments, his gaze moved into the distance where wolf-sharp senses also picked up foreign laughter, then it turned toward the woman on the horse with a squint of curiosity as his gait slowed to a walk, only barely needing to catch his breath, and void of any fatigue at all. If there was any chill in the air at all, his exhales would be more visible than most, even with his features yet concealed by a face covering. A shoulder rolled back with a tilt of skull in a vague stretch with a click of bones occurring as she spoke toward the stranger ahead, though Leo took an extra moment to try to decipher what it was Albert retrieved. The black dressed male could easily be assumed to be a bodyguard of sorts, for the fact he didn’t speak, and the way he paced to Eleanor’s side, keeping only enough distance so as not to unsettle her horse. The treads of a boot propped on a raised stone on the uneven path, bringing his knee high enough to rest both forearms across it, strands of bronze-blond veiling much of his stare in uneven, near jaw length strands.

Azelea slowed to a stop as the voice of a strange reached her ears calling out a question about what was just spoken from her to Albert. The item he had purchased sitting out on display at his stall was a three long off-white carved piece of a rabbit’s foot. The material was smooth and distinct almost like polished stone, yet it wasn’t the exact color of any known gem. The hand that clutched the golden coins disappeared into the pocket of the gown the pale skinned woman wore to deposit them. As the lady pulled her now empty hand out of the fabric she spun slowly to face the cloth wrapped woman and her body guard. In the evening light the deep blue of her eyes was easily mistaken for black. Looking up while tilting her head ever so slightly to the left before questioning in a voice as alluring as a bard's lullaby, “Have you not heard the story of the Lucky Rabbit Foot?” The voice of the fae lingered in the gap between the parties. Facing them the teardrop shaped pendant of blood red with an intricate flower pressed into the mold shinned as then stray rays of sun landed on it. From afar it was a unique trinket with the off-white flower as the center piece, but were one to look close enough the material of the plant could be questioned. Dark gaze drifted back to Albert as he dropped another item that he had just picked up. Watching the magic work was always a delight, except now when there was an audience that could possibly cost her the sale.

Eleanor's head listed to the side, her seafoam stare slicing down and toward her shoulder, not directly at Leo but in his direction all the same. A ghost of a smirk settled deeper into the crook of her mouth as she realigned her gaze forward toward the dark-haired stranger intent of putting space between herself and the scene of the crime. Gaze subtly narrowing, it cut away from the woman and toward Albert once more. What was going on here was hardly her business, and in most cases, the rogue leader was content to keep her dirty nose out of matters that didn't concern her. And yet, her attention was captured by the poor man's plight, a sudden case of butter-fingers taking hold. Beneath the folds and wrinkles of cloak and cowl, one of the spellrogue's many tattoos flared to life; a circular, runed design activated and put on standby. Leo might have seen the faint glow between her shoulder blades as she urged her mare forward a pace. Lifting her chin, heavy-lidded eyes peered down toward Azelea before the woman gave her head a deliberately slow shake. "Nae," she purred, affectedly-veiled interest stirring beneath the syllables. She clucked her tongue against the roof of her mouth to punctuate before continuing. "Cannae say 'at Ah hae." For a single heartbeat, El's gaze darted toward Leo, then back to Azelea again. "Dae enlighten us."

Leoxander immediately felt his hackles raise, though he couldn’t yet pinpoint the reason why. It could have been that silky tone in her voice, maybe a vague scent barely captured at that distance through his mask, or it could be that subtle but strange behavior from a merchant who had always taken caution and care with valuable wares, as far as the rogue had known. Maybe Albert was just letting the years catch up with him, but the dark haired woman’s behavior triggered wariness from a gut feeling that very rarely misguided the man. He didn’t need to pass that warning glance to his companion, her capability in judgement and skill long since known and shown to Leo. In fact, knowing the spellrogue as well as he did, he could already see the gears in her head grinding and that familiar smirk touching in. Leo managed to appear fairly calm and casual, even if those keen eyes studied over Azalea’s form from a distance like one might inspect a hanging cut of meat in a butcher’s shop, deeming whether it was worth the cost. No glint of steel caught his eye, but the light did reflect a shine of red that alerted the pirate’s greed from the laze of sloth, just a bit. Old habits never truly died in his case or cause - he was an experienced thief. A sigh left his nose with El’s answer… ‘Here we go, again…’ kept to his head as he straightened up from that resting position only to fold arms comfortable across his chest, upright and unintentionally reinforcing the ‘bodyguard’ display. A man of few words, he let the two have their conversation and only took his eyes off the gowned woman to observe Albert’s state, quickly putting possibilities together in the back of his mind. Something still had the hair on the back of his neck and arms prickling in the presence of that stranger.

Azelea fixed a loose strand of black that had fallen into her face and tucked it behind a pointed ear. Along the edge of the ear there was a triangle shaped white stud pressed through the cartilage that exited out the back. The closer Eleanor got the more familiar looking the oddity of the jewelry choice was evident that if it was what it appeared to be it was a vampire fang. Dangling from her exposed lobe was a miniature carved figure of a crescent moon, finely carved and polished. Delicate as they were it was hard to pinpoint the material as bone. While Eleanor approached on her mare closing the distance between the strangers Azelea did not flinch nor shy away. A curiosity sparking in those darkened eyes with a dash of mischief. She was not afraid of this woman on horseback nor the body guard that kept her company. A unique pair of cloth wrapped people that had not heard the tale seemed unfathomable to the fae who had known it as a bedtime story. Her tone changed as she shared the tale, it became almost sickeningly sweet and awfully dark at the same time, “A poor man once let his rabbit snack on his neighbor’s garden. When the woman caught the animal running her cabbage she chased it out of her garden. Fat little thing got stuck in the fence. The man tried to yank it free, but he could not free it. The foot snapped off and he stumbled back. By sheer dumb luck alone the carriage coming down the road missed squashing him like a pancake. From that day forward he carried the foot with him claiming it brought him luck. So much luck that he began to do defy death. Each one more crazy than the last. Until one day when it fell from his pocket before his stunt. And squished he got when the carriage came loose and backed over him. He lost his life when he lost his lucky rabbit foot.” A simple tale told as if it was a bedtime story for a small children, even though it contained grim parts. Albert had a smile on his face even if he was dropping things that he normally did not. The human turned to look at the man with a wide eyed expression as he whispered, “I traded my gold for luck. It won’t be long before I am the luckiest man there ever was. Then I can trade up from this gig. The beautiful lady promised luck in turn for gold. And here yoi are to buy something, perhaps?”

Eleanor's full lips pressed into a nebulously amused smile, and she lifted her chin further, gaze narrowed to slits of pale green as she swept scrutiny over the fae from toes to pointed ears. There was not a single detail in the female's presentation the rogue's acute stare did not take note of. She allowed the story to unfold without interruption, but upon its close, she alit from her mount in a flutter of leather and cloth as dark as night, keeping her left hand around the plain bridle while her right settled on the full swell of her hip. "Noo, it soonds tae me loch thes 'rabbit' wasnae lucky at all," she countered smoothly, taking a long but single stride toward Albert's stall. Was she stalling? "He went out fur scran an' was killed, while his foot was carried aroond by some puir auld divit—At leest until he got himself killed too." A dry laugh was caught in her throat, but her next words were silenced as Albert turned toward Leo. The pirate received a sidelong glance, an unspoken warning shared along their bond, but she made no move to intervene. She could tell something was up, something that soured the air, something that crackled along her skin and poked and prodded at her. Ignoring the ache that seeped into her left hand, the muscle in her jaw feathered when she returned a slow stare toward Azelea. Ultimately, the spellrogue chose to 'bite' upon the bait laid out, a curious nibble at the back of her mind. "If thes man is said tae hae died efter losin' th' foot, hoo did it come tae be in yer possession?"

Leoxander did not stray his attention for Azelea’s victim of trickery for long. At least, that was his first assumption from what he witnessed while he aimed an ear toward the tale. That greed was a sin familiar to Leo, but one he always approached with care, while poor Al seemed to throw caution to the wind. He resisted a sorry shake of his head and returned his focus to the fae, which he did not realize to be such as of yet, but some internal instinct told him to keep an appropriate distance even if it risked Eleanor on the front line. Thus far, no aggressive or assertive action had come from the unknown lady. And not a word from said ‘bodyguard’, who let the queen of miscreants lead and continue words back and forth. The watchful rogue was taking in every word, every movement, every hint of body language, studying the stranger whom he began to assume his partner was reeling in, and doubting for only a moment if it wasn’t the other way around.

Azelea under the detailed intake from Eleanor would be found to be oddly pale, as if the sun did not shine upon her flesh, with an almost glimmer to her skin where the blue of her veins stood out, long black lashes framing deep blue-black eyes, a frame willowy thin as if the wind might snap her in half, and an calm beating heart. Then the woman spoke and Azelea could not help from letting out a laugh, dark and sweet like bourbon with honey, as the fabric clad woman with the green eyes asked her question. Clearing her throat the fae spoke answer, “Silly, Animal. That is not a real rabbit’s foot. It is a carved one meant to be a symbol of the actual one and in turn bring about luck.” Reaching her hand into her gown pocket she produced another carved foot of a rabbit that was nearly identical to the one she sold Albert, though a touch smaller. A smirk tugged on the fae's lips for a brief moment before she questioned, “Did you want to buy your own lucky rabbit foot?”

Eleanor, queen of miscreants that she was, did so love to volley words back and forth, that was a fact. She did not have about her the preternatural senses of fae or wolf, but she did alright in picking out each figure's essential traits shown, living and inanimate. The spellrogue's features remained neutral throughout the fae's reply save a slight arch of her left brow, and she swallowed, considering the tale spun and the token bequeathed to poor Albert. "Buy it?" she snorted derisively and barked out with a brittle laugh. "Nae, nae Ah dornt hink 'at Ah will, loove." Her pale eyes danced as she stepped away from the mare, which knickered in response, and El smoothed both gloved hands down her hips before letting the cloak drape around her shoulders, hiding sculpted muscles and generous curves in the same dark material once more. Although half a foot shorter and yet no doubt heavier than Azelea under the folds, she formed an imposing presence with her aloof facade and the beginnings of spell-summoned shadows licking at her ankles and the hem of her cape. "Whit Ah'd loch instead is tae ken whit yoo've done tae Albert, if we can still call heem 'at." A heavy silence followed her evenly delivered demand for a beat before she added, "Coz see, tae ye, he's jist a witless merchant." Something in Albert triggered at that, indignation rising up, and he puffed out his chest only to exhale in defeat as he failed, yet again, to gather up the figurine in hands that felt as useful as if they'd been made of the honey Azelea spoke upon. "But Ah hae business wi' heem," the rogue continued, both brows arching as her chin dropped in a nod. "An' he cannae verra weel handle mah product in this state, can he?"

Leoxander might just loft a brow at the ‘silly animal’ comment. He’d been called worse, but it didn’t even seem to be directed his way. More so, he focused on the tone of her laughter, rather than her words. Something about it almost seemed too perfect in pitch, too alluring and drawing, though he hadn’t the ability to sense what it consisted of, yet. He hadn’t missed that she’d dubbed a very human looking Eleanor in a species different than human, which raised suspicions that Azelea was not of that race, either. Nothing was as it seemed in that world of Lithrydel, and he’d learned better in his decade or more occupying it. His arms unfolded as the spellrogue crept closer in range of the stranger, but no aggressive movement was made for a weapon just yet. “Worthless, as he is…” That deep voice finally growled out from under the covering on his face. “Her, on the other hand…” He spoke that nonchalant warning to his partner in crime, although none had been committed just yet. Leo risked a few steps closer, but not so close as to put the raven haired lady on guard any more than she would be with Eleanor’s approach. Through slivers of dirty blond bangs, he recognized the bone in her tapered ear, his enhanced vision and the fact he wore his own bone hoop assisting the discovery. There seemed to be a barrier at a distance that paused the lycanthrope as he sniffed sharply through his mask.

Azelea replaced the trinket back in her pocket once Eleanor smartly declined buying the trinket from her. The brow of the fae rose when asked about the happy human that did not seem to have a care in the world that he was performing his tasks with clumsy butterfingers while stumbling when he shifted his stance. Her gaze drifted over to the man sitting contently while holding his carved rabbit foot in both hands. A long finger lifted to point at herself, “What have I done to that animal?” her tone and face expressing mock insult for a brief moment. As the look melted away the fae shook her head in a no fashion sending dark locks swirling around her thin frame exposing bare bony shoulders for a brief moment. Just curling over the back of the shoulder was a series of strange black markings that disappeared down her back. Up closer with his keen sight Leo could probably tell the material forming the flower in the red pendant dangling from her neck was little tiny molars, more teeth. With both standing now the fae was more on guard than previously, but her way of showing it was with a simple shrug of the shoulder before finishing her answer, “I did not do a thing at all to it. I simply did as he agreed upon. Gold for luck. It is not a concern of mine what his connection is to you.” It was a twisted truth of the fact. She herself had not done anything but sold a trinket. It was the item cursed with ancient faerie magic that had changed Albert’s luck. She never once stated which kind of luck was being sold in the foot. Each sentence was carefully worded around the truth without ever being a whole truth. A word choice pattern the observant might pick up on; she couldn’t speak a lie. Close enough to catch a deep inhale of her scent would leave a pleasantly bitter smell in the nostrils, sweet mixed with poison, an earthly magic tainted with rot and decay.

Eleanor was no stranger to the conveniently-placed turn-of-phrase, and the way Azelea tiptoed around her words was an approach the spellrogue could appreciate under usual circumstances. However, at present, shifty Albert had become blithe Albert, a scenario that benefited neither her coin purse nor her patience. Be that as it may, the grin that split her face held mischievous avarice for the element of danger that games of luck tended to provide. "If ye dinnae admit tae daein' somethin' tae Albert," she continued, husky syllables rolled with cautious undertones. "Weel 'at leaves yer bonnie wee rabbi' foot. Ah say we relieve heem ay such a burden, mo ghaol, whit dae ye hink?" It was the first time she'd addressed Leo directly in front of Azelea, and she paired the suggestion with a pointed look along her shoulder at the King of Shrikes. Her chin lowered a single degree in a subtle, sober nod; she trusted the wolf would know how to handle a strange artifact given recent circumstances. Eleanor bounced her attention toward Azelea proper and linked her hands together. "Spikin' ay worth," the queen of the shadows continued, eyes like seafoam scintillating with machinations under her gilded fringe. "Ye teel me whit yoo've dain, Ah main be able tae fin' ye a better place tae peddle yer wares, ... sìthiche." The way the D'Vainese rolled off her tongue made it hard to decipher if it was a slur or a title of note — of recognition, and the woman's lips curled into a wry grin that seemed no closer to spilling the secret behind the word uttered in her native language. For now, the nickname lingered on her lips just long enough to suggest there was something to be found in what the rogue leader was offering the stranger.

Leoxander could smell death and decay as though it were commonplace in his lifetime, and he scented it upon this being. Her words were not cast aside, that ‘it’ in reference to human making its mark upon rogue-born wit even before he turned to give the rogue of rogues a sidelong glance. “Be a helluva lot easier to just deprive her of her goods.” It was bait, a curve of conversation that would allow them to judge her reaction to a possible threat. Although he played along, he wasn’t the established actor his partner could be, and eyes that sharpened from blue to gold returned to the subject, the fae, in some subtle warning. Still, this was Eleanor’s hunt and he was along for the ride, even if the horse could hardly handle his predatory aura. Maybe Azelea might be privy to it, as well. He really had no desire to collect what seemed to be a cursed artifact, but he could at least incline the idea that he had no fear of it. Finally, he addressed the gowned trickster, directly. “Might want to consider a chat about yer affairs. Might just give you more than a few ticks in your pocket than that blaggard can afford.” A gesture of jaw toward the fumbling old shifty figure in their sights.

Azelea pursed her lips as thin brows scrunched together at the term that left the lips of Eleanor, ‘sithiche'. Confusion flashed across pale features trying to determine the meaning behind what she had just been called. The look melted away in a toxic-sweet laugh that gave a short echo in the rocky terrain as the male voice suggested simple taking her wares. Controlling her outburst the woman clasped her hands behind her back while rocking forward onto her tip toes before rocking back while addressing his idea, “What would you do with a pocket full of luck, love, money, and health?” If the rabbit foot was cursed leaving Albert with a disposition change then surely all the wares combined in one person’s hands would be an interesting outcome. The idea had a brief smirk flashing over her lips. Turning to address Eleanor with her question the fae came to a standing still again, “I am seeking someone, however as it seems I can only be in one place at a time. I am making a journey around to make some new acquaintances to assist.” Releasing her hands from behind her back she stuck one into the pocket that contained the other rabbit foot to shortly pull fist out. Keeping her gaze on the pair she gave a shrug, “If you desire it, it will ware off in time, but I shall speed it up, only this once.” Finishing her sentence the fae opened her hand to reveal a fist full of an assortment of teeth. With a long exhale over the pieces she cast a spell upon them that caused them to raise from her hand, assorting themselves before the pair until a miniature dragon-like creature hovered there. A single finger pointed behind Eleanor and Leoxander to the stall at the trinket, “Fetch,” she commanded. Instantly, it was zipping to follow the command to retrieve the cursed charm and bring it back to the fae.

Eleanor clucked her tongue against the roof of her mouth again and gave her head a slight shake. Her smile, wicked at the seams, remained in full, unperturbed by the carrot the fae appeared to dangle in front of Leo. If anything, it turned a shade darker as she replied smoothly, "Ah assure ye, mah associate here has nae trooble findin' luck, loove, bunsens, an' health without yer tricks." Of course, that went without saying, and she spared the pirate a tempered, knowing smirk. "Och aye, it woods certainly be easier tae tak' them frae 'er, but where's th' fun in 'at?" Her voice had dropped into an almost conspiratorial whisper, although she was not concerned about the eavesdroppers nearby. Her pale eyes shifted back toward Azelea, or more importantly, the miniature bone dragon being summoned and formed by the tiny teeth. Although it was not from awe or reverence, flaxen brows rose in unison, and she smothered a wry chuckle behind pursed lips. "That's a strange way to go lookin' fur someone, yoo're boond tae fin' only trooble, an' nae th' fun kind." Her sharp celadon twins were transfixed on the bone-dragon, and as it flew past her, she finally called upon the magic reserved in the spell branded between her shoulder blades. The air grew thick, crackling like ozone, pungent and burnt as she metaphysically reached out to seize the toothed beast in mid-air before it could retrieve the cursed token. Eleanor had no intention only to capture it, and beneath her wheat fringe of bangs, the turquoise in her brow thrummed with life. It wasn't arcane energies that held the teeth together, but that wasn't going to stop the spell thief from doing what she did best — stealing it. As an invisible hand, guided by disturbed blue-blurred air, plucked the bone-dragon from its path, a faint light flared in El's eyes. They were shifted from sea-glass to a vibrant, luminescent blue as she began to siphon the natural aura holding the drake together. "Thenk ye kindly fur th' offerin'," the rogue purred. If she successfully stole whatever spell had the creature, teeth started to fall without their animated status. Either way, Eleanor was advancing on Azelea in long, heavy-hipped steps, while her words were meant for Leo. "Nae mah usual cuppae tea, but delicious nevertheless." To the fae, she spoke carefully, each word deliberately chosen and delivered with measured beats. "Nae more ay 'at until ye answer mah question." El didn't bother to make her voice sound threatening; her actions would speak for themselves if needed. Meanwhile, her gaze honed in on the fae without wavering. "Who ur ye lookin' fur, an' why?" So much for minding her own business; with a reliable fence bewitched, who knows what other trouble was afoot. El was making it her business.

Leoxander chuffed a breath of a false laugh when the question was presented, even if it wasn’t directed his way. Like Albert with his new carving, the pirate’s health came with a curse. And as Eleanor said, wealth, never truly an issue in their line of work. As for luck, “We’ve an accord, she an’ I.” He murmured that curious statement following the spellrogue’s reassurance, arms remaining crossed as the two women went about with their game of fancy magicks. No competition from the lycan, that left hand bandaged and fixed in a fingerless glove. He didn’t relax his posture too much but reclaimed that stone with the bottom of his boot as Eleanor did what she did second best, negotiation, only chiming in with words no man should be so bold to say to a lady. “Better watch what you eat, there, babe.” Beyond the recent mishap with the Xalious tree, it wouldn’t be the first time he’d witnessed a necromancer type of talent, and although he’d not seen enough to weigh the level of danger, he’d had enough experience with death and sin eaters to know it was risky to tamper with. For now Leo remained on alert, demeanor seemingly composed though he kept careful watch on the witch, whose scent or presence still triggered hidden caution, as well as their surroundings.

Azelea watched as the cloaked woman leaked magic from beneath the folds of her layers of fabric to snatch the little tooth dragon she had created in order to appease her request of returning the animal sitting in the stall to his former self. Annoyance twitched across her features for a brief moment watching the false life sucked out. Eleanor would gain from it an ancient tasting natural magic that was not a common folk gift. If anything, watching the teeth shift apart before falling to the ground below got a reaction out of the bone faerie. Her dark eyes swirled from dark to a bright opaque blue with the flash of anger Eleanor managed to stir in the tall woman. Or short woman? With each step that closed the gap between the females Azelea appeared to shrink in size, an inch at a time. The little glimpse of dark ink on her shoulders began to shift, pushing off the pale flesh in which it was placed upon. A whisper of a sound similar to wax being peeled off parchment filled the air for those with the acute hearing. A whooshing sound shortly following as the wings of the faerie leapt to life. They shared a shape similar to large leaves with darker grey veins that faded into the stripped greys of their true color; a pattern akin to the bark of trees native to the swamps. Azelea stood just under five feet in height as the rogue began he demanding question. Unable to lie made it hard for the exposed faerie to give any other answer. As the word left her lips the woman's eyes shone a brighter blue, “A murderer.” That honey sweet voice lost for a moment, replaced by a cold bone chilling flat tone.

Eleanor tilted her head to one side, sending her gaze toward the other rogue, heavy lashes fluttering through a thoughtful narrow. "Aye," she told him quietly. The single syllable answered many questions, addressed many concerns, and she did not expand further or feel the need to. For a beat, she was caught up on the last word spoken by her mate, her lips pressing into a secretive smile. As she came to a stop just outside of arm's reach in front of the fae, her head tilted to the other side, and a wide, dimpling grin broke up her features. Her expression was one no-doubt familiar to Leo, as a predator who comes upon their prey, foot stuck in the trap. Perhaps it was a rabbit's foot, but El was no simple farmer here to reap the rewards of luck stolen at the sacrifice of another. With the fae's glamor dropped and their bantering pretense gone, the rogue leader was pleased, and she spared another glance toward Leo, quickly before it settled on the diminutive female. "A murderer? Is tha' sae?" Her gaze swept over the newly-revealed form from crinkled, veiny wings like autumn leaves to a pair of eyes that matched her own in a preternatural glow. "Ye appear tae be th' one in luck, sìthiche," the cloaked woman continued, a glint of interest curling around her accented words. "Murder is mah game." El's tongue darted out to moisten her lips, a pensive expression flitting across her shadowed face briefly. When she asked her next question, though, her dimpled grin shifted machiavellian. "Was there any particular murderer yoo're lookin' fur?"

Leoxander almost seemed a little amused at first when the flustered witch approached the daring rogue, a shadow of a smirk hidden by mask, but the eager gleam in his own blue eyes flashed. Eleanor could handle her own business and he was almost hopeful for some claws to come out for his entertainment. At least, that was until the truth of her form and being, and that caused all the joy to vanish from his expression. In a rare form of a slight stumble, the rocks scraped under his boot as he lowered it from stone and took a step back from the sight of her wings. “Sonuva-...” How odd it must look, the big bad wolf looking startled and apprehensive over a five foot nothin’ (or less) ‘pixie’, eyes narrowed intensely on her as he made some space between them in time for her answer. His arms were no longer folded and seemed poised to reach for a few seconds, but as his partner in crime so coolly continued the conversation, he forced himself to loosen up a bit. The warning was clear in his fixed glare. One wrong motion or word his way and Azelea had the opportunity to become a one winged wonder.

Azelea continued to shrink in size as the magic that held her appearance together sizzled out until she was merely a foot and a half in size. Wings began to flutter to work as she lost her inches keeping her off the ground. The clothing worn by the fae shrunk with the wearer, however the boots that had been on her feet did not. A fluttering of wings flapping to keep the little lady air born above the soles lingered in the air between questions and answers. Glowing eyes turned to land upon the man that had let out an unexpected surprise. His reaction alone was enough amusement for the little darkling lose the anger than had previously taken control. The glow of the blue darkened as the mood swing vanished. “I don’t bite…that hard,” she said his way with a voice eerily soothe and sweet. For him she flashed a smile that revealed her mouthful of little razor sharp teeth. The female had earned her attention again. Speaking of the murderer again brought a faint glow back to those pools of midnight-blue, “The Animal that killed her and set me free.” Short enough statement that answered the question and revealed she had no name by which the killer was known as. Then she added an inquiry of her own, “Sithiche?”

Eleanor had not forgotten Leo's reservations with the fairy folk, and it was precisely why she'd placed herself closer to the other female, the wolf behind and to the side. She felt him move, stirred by the continuing-to-shrink unfamiliar, and the muscle in her jaw feathered in a short grind of molars, grin toothy still. "Neither diz he," El warned the dark fae. Unlinking her hands, she tugged at her left glove to keep obscured the cursed black ink creeping up her wrist before it disappeared under her long sleeve. After, she readjusted her cloak and tucked one hand under the folds, reaching for her rune-stamped belt and hooking her thumb through it. "Animal … ye keep usin' 'at wuird, ye might lose puckle teeth ay yer own." El drew in a slow breath through her nose, holding it deep in her lungs, and upon releasing it, sighed, the sound wheezing into a faint groan. "Set ye free?" She tread carefully through the question, and as she poised her words with deliberate evenness in tone and timber, she hoped Leo could somehow feel her reassurance being directed at him, perhaps along a particular bond. "Dae ye plan 'en tae thenk thes murderous sool fur freein' ye?" she tossed back Azelea's way. As of yet, she had neglected to ask the murderer's name, but right now, it seemed of little importance compared to the story lurking behind the fae's circuitous narration. With a question bounced back, El's wicked grin blossomed, and her eyes flashed in tandem with the gem front and center in her iron crown. "Fairy," she translated, at last, the word dripping with a tainted mixture of vindicated amusement at her suspicions being confirmed and haughty contempt for pixie-kin.

Leoxander “The hell you don’t.” Leo barked back through nearly clenched teeth in response to her less-than-coy reassurance. As if that smile of hers merited her words, whether she could lie or not. There was likely some enchanting sway that came with her musical tone, but his wolf ears would have been pressed flat to his skull against the sound, if they were visible. A man of few words, they might still hear the deep, sarcastic mumble that came once she offered a hint of her past. “Yeah, that bloody narrows it down…” A few pacing steps circled him nearer to Eleanor, his razor-sharp scrutiny and body language foreshadowing some secrets of his own. He was getting a bit restless, talking business such as this on such a well worn path, and finally reached for something inside his jacket, but revealed nothing too deadly unless you noted the proof of the alcohol in that dented flask. “We really gonna shoot the-” Albert’s convenient curse here as he stubbed his foot on jut of rock. “-here, or we gonna find someplace proper to discuss our damned affairs?” He finally risked a look off the eighteen inch threat to give Eleanor that matter of fact look that might remind her they weren’t exactly trading tall tells in the out and open. Not that he wanted to be confined to a room with the winged witch, either.

Azelea curled her long fingers into tightly clenched fists causing the knuckles to sound off in a series of pops at the outrageous question poised by the rouge. Her eyes were starting to glow again as a high pitched dark laugh escaped from the little winged woman, “No…I plan to kill it.” A bitter malice tone that left the woman before the spewing words flowed freely, at a speed that most had trouble hearing clearly, without a care, “I will slice off its eyelids ensuring it doesn’t miss a moment and remove the tongue before plucking each tooth out. Then starting at the toes each bone will be broken one by one. Entrails will become the noose by which it hangs. Flesh flayed off and ribs snapped back to let it have the wings it so desperately desires.” Malice and venom dripped with each gruesome detail of the faerie's carefully thought out plan. Turning her eyes toward the man as he finally approached in his restlessness, “Don’t think I won’t bite your finger off if you try to lock in a jar. I’ve heard all the tales of you animals putting smaller folk into them.” His suggestion of some place proper stirring up the old tales the fae folk were told about the tall folk. Azelea made sure to keep her distance between herself and the male; just as hesitant about him as he was her.

Eleanor's mare wasn't having any of this tension, and she knickered softly, stumping on the rocky terrain with an anxious hoof. Paired with her partner-in-crime making his thoughts crystal clear, and El was inclined to agree, they'd outlasted their time here, and a new place was necessary if they intended to continue the conversation. Not that that stopped Azelea from answering the question in full, a macabre scene painted by the pint-sized vengeance-seeker. "Och aye, sae ye plan tae rip 'im tae bits, Ah ken." And she did understand, far more than she would willingly admit here in such mixed company. Her icy stare sliced over her sculpted shoulder toward Albert, probably nothing more than collateral damage in this scenario. A frown threatened to develop on her full crimson-stained lips, but as usual, the spellrogue retained a devilish smirk. Her gaze returned to Azelea, and a dark chuckle stumbled forth. "If ye hink puttin' ye in a jar is the warst we coods dae, yoo're in fur a verra rude awakenin', wee sprite. Ah snort pixies loch ye fur breakfest." And sometimes, quite literally; although it would be hard to draw a straight line between Eleanor and the alchemically-treated pixie dust trade that happened in Lithrydel, the crooked lines existed somewhere, and she was damned rich as a result, even if her own clothing was tailored to be modest and nondescript. "Here's whit Ah hink," her husky tone rolled out, syllables lofted in a suggestion of caution. "If ye want help findin' thes murderer instead ay makin' me one," (again), "yoo'll brin' Albert here." Snapping her fingers, she summoned a cerulean spark that effervesced into a small sheet of vellum, an address in Cenril clearly printed on it in shimmering azure-black ink. The paper shrank to size, drifting toward the little, nameless stranger, where it would only last a few hours before the ink would fade. "Alive, an' without yer … charms." The choice of word was purposeful, and her gaze was just as razor-sharp as the fae's teeth or Leo's claws; but it also hinted that she'd allow the fae to keep some secrets to herself, for now.

Leoxander was almost impressed with her descriptive detail, but when her words turned on him the bridge of his sun spotted nose started to crinkle like the animal she’d dubbed him to be. One of his slow exhales might even rumble a low growl buried deep in his chest, but he drowned it out with another drink. “I got nine more to rip you to troll status, doll.” His tone even deeper as he rebounded some words to the murderous miniature in the midst of their pleasant conversation. However, given the sway of winds on this impromptu meeting, he wouldn’t go overboard with the threats, well aware of how many potential clients he might have run off in the past, given his level of patience. Which should be noted, even to those who had not known him in the past, was a lot more tolerant than it had ever been. He afforded a look toward Albert, whether still suffering from his blessing of fortune or not, then squinted a sidelong look at the rogue queen, not exactly certain why she wanted to get another involved. But she had her ways of demonstration and interview, and as mentioned before, he could see the process grinding through in her brain on pure instinct and knowledge of the blonde breaker of man and law. “Meet you there.” He stated, not that he couldn’t keep up with her horse but because his ability allowed him a silent scout ahead while still keeping the duo in sight for their brief journey across city borders.

Azelea accept the strange paper with the address from the other as it landed in her little hands. Her eyes scanned the page taking in the ink and committing it to memory. While the fae moved to tuck it away into her pocket the witch began to grow in size. The inches added up until she was slipping her feet back into her boots at her previous height when they stumbled upon one another. Leo was given a glance for a brief moment though her words were directed toward Eleanor, “That one seems like a bundle of fun.” A sweet chuckle left her lips before she continued, “I will bring your little animal back…alive with his previous luck status.” Fluttering wings slowed to a rest against her back where they slowly melded back against the pale flesh forming the appearance of ink once more. Nimble fingers rearranged her long black locks as she spoke once more, “Pixies are bottom of the barrel. Might try something more top shelf,” a beat, “Anything else, Životinja?”

Eleanor slid a gaze askew at Leo, amusement tugging at the corner of her crooked smile. "Och aye, he's th' most fun a girl can hae without endin' up in jail." Of course, that was only because they were just that good at not getting caught. No one pushed her as much or pulled her back in again. He was the Hound to her Fox. The rogue leader accepted Azelea's agreement of the terms laid out and were the social contract in need of a signature, a sober nod counted and was given duly. "Guid, an' Ah'll tak' 'at under advisemen'." The woman's chin remained low, and with the last of the sunlight gone, there wasn't much darker than her shadowed grin. "Last wuirds, a wuird ay caution from one murderer tae another: watch yer step in Cenril. Th' Oracle sees all." The luminescence of her stare faded just as the glow of her gem did, and the rogue pivoted on the soft-soled heel of her boot, wasting no further time in crossing back toward the unsettled horse. One hand on the saddle, though, and she hesitated to cast a wary glance toward Leo. "Be safe." It was hardly more than a whisper intended for him alone, but after her preceding words toward Azelea, they were well-matched in intent. It had been too long without a confrontation from the All-Seeing Syndicate, but the longer they used Cenril as a base of operations, the likelier that was to change. She gave the wolf a meaningful nod before lifting herself into the saddle, hands collecting the reins to steer the beast back around the way she'd come — northeast and down the mountains, toward the sea that beckoned.