RP:Talented Strangers
A mercenary is given an unusual commission by an unusual woman.
West Arena, Cenril
Quintessa rises from her seat once the fight has concluded and whispers something to the guard standing watch over her. He shifts uncomfortably but doesn’t respond, he merely watches like a hawk as the changeling dressed in all black casually moves from her booth through the crowd, slyly inching closer to the avian man known as Cresente. They have only spoken once before but that does not stop Quintessa from gently clasping his shoulder and whispering something in the assassin’s ear.
Quintessa whispered to Cresente, "Enjoy the fight?” She pauses to chuckle softly, “I’ve been watching you carefully the past few weeks and you’ve managed to maintain my attention. I could use someone with your type of skills should you be interested…"
Leoxander only smirked slightly when Khitt pulled the win. He’d seen enough of the red menace’s ability in the ring that he wasn’t too surprised; not to mention he didn’t quite recognise the brunette. A listless clap with his hands empty and he glanced toward the three. “Le’s grab a drink an’ you can catch me up.” It applied to all three. Lita was in the ranks, Mahri had some news to share. Loravelle was grounded, now.
Cresente does not seem to react to the strange creature's advance at first. He does, however, withdraw his case of cigarillos and takes one from the pack, then holding the case out for her to choose one, should she wish.
Cresente whispered to Quintessa, "Always interested for the right price."
Lita nods at Leo and loops an arm around Mahri's waist as they move towards the exit. "Sounds like a plan."
Mahri crosses her arm over Lita's to rest her fingers around the vampire's waist. "I could use a drink or twelve."
Quintessa whispered to Cresente, "I’m sure we can reach a mutual agreement. Meet me in the Gothic Gardens next to Ginger Snapped Bakery. We can discuss further details there."
Mahri did not miss the interactions between Cresente and Quintessa. She's watching them from the corner of her eye even as she was leaving with Leo, Lita and Lora.
Cresente eyes the departure of tonight's victor, tonight's loser, the enigmatic ship captain and what he presumes to be his crew, and the departure of the stranger. He catches Mahri's eye for a moment, but not recognizing her as the stranger from the Whaler's Bar, he breaks the contact almost immediately and moves to leave, taking a different exit as the stranger.
Quintessa watches the avian man leave before she turns to face her bodyguard, who is already tense in the presence of her utterly unpredictable nature. She offers the Cenrili man an impish grin before she turns away and vanishes into the crowd, leaving him in a panic trying to find her in vain. He was surely going to report this back to Valrae…
Goth Gardens, Cenril
Cresente makes his way to the designated meet-up location, only to find himself seemingly alone. Looking up at the obsidian carved lovers, his neutral expression twitches into something that could betray an emotion. Perhaps it was jealousy or disdain; in the dim moons light, it would be difficult to discern. "I don't suppose you called me out here for a drinking game." He says, taking a seat at the fountain's edge. Black wings curl up and away from the water like on instinct while he takes a drag of his smoke.
Quintessa steps from the darkness, the night wrapped around her like a dark cloak as she produces a cigarette from her fingers and lights it between her lips with a gentle snap. “If I was interested in drinking games I’d have invited you to the Whaler’s, though I get the feeling that wouldn’t interest you either. No, my goals are a little more… Bloody.” Her mismatched eyes glimmer in the moonlight like a venom snake as she looks over him, appraising him. “Before I make my offer I have to ask- Do you know who I am?”
Cresente gives the woman an incredulous look. She had approached him and called him out to some garden to boast about who she is? It was nearly unheard of in his line of work to know his commissioner so intimately... Or at least, let them know that he already knows them so intimately. "So your unwillingness to disguise yourself was intentional." Taking the cigarillo from his mouth, he exhales a plume of smoke that transforms into the silhouette of a corvid. It silently flaps its wings before dissipating into regular smoke. "Quintessa Blackwell, formerly Quintessa Dragana, self-proclaimed Countess of the lycans and dark fae's lands in Vailkrin..." He has pulled up three fingers, then shifts to one, indicating for her to pause as he takes a drag. "...Clout chasing spellcasting prodigy, skilled swordsman. You have a resume most avians take centuries to accomplish in such a short span of time." He turns his head to her again, raising a brow. "And you're allegedly under arrest and strict supervision for trying to kill the mayor, that was the only story in every country's papers for at least a month. Am I... missing anything? Surely, someone of your pedigree would not rely on a third-party to finish the assassination you failed the first time around?"
Quintessa’s haughty smirk disappears from her face as Cresente speaks, slightly disarmed at the level of information he had collected on her. “Oh… You’re pretty good.” She doesn’t like the kind of things the average person could learn about her and to be faced with it so directly is something she’s never had to do before. Suddenly she doesn’t feel like she’s the professional in the situation anymore and she hides her face behind her cigarette as she turns away. “I think you understand plainly enough… No, this isn’t about Mayor Valrae- I have bigger fish to fry. Wolves, in fact. There is a pack that likes to stalk these streets… There’s a man named Leoxander, a lycanthrope pirate who has seized control of Port Rynvale and uses it as his hideout. If you could establish contact with this man or his lackeys, I would pay a premium for any information you could sell to me on him. Someone of *my* pedigree simply cannot do this because he already knows more about me than you do. But a talented stranger such as yourself? You could learn much that I could not. Do you still follow?”
Cresente listens to her speak, only looking away once to crush his spent cigarillo in his palm so that the remaining leaves and paper could be returned to the earth with barely a trace. A premium was a premium. He could not express to her that he had already intended on seeking out the captain's services with the wealth he has accumulated, especially so soon, that would make the information less valuable. "Information. Not blood." It is a statement, not a question, repeated to himself. He eyes up the strange woman again. Were talented strangers that hard to find, nowadays? "And should I wish to make a sale, how would I reach you?" That wasn't a no.
Quintessa shakes her head, “No, not Leoxander’s blood. If it comes to that I’ll take it myself.” Her voice grows cold and serious as she gazes up at the non-identical twin moons. She knows she should not be making such bold statements but her theatrical nature always got the best of her. “As for making a sale… Should you want to talk to me directly, my castle in Vailkrin is not difficult to locate. You could discreetly send a message along my ranks to meet me in the secrecy of the Dark Forest should you wish it, or you can meet me here. When I stay in Cenril you can find me in the Goth Garden every night. It’s like a ritual of mine.” A dangerous piece of information to give an assassin, she knows, but it’s also a show of good faith. Very few could outbid the richest House in Vailkrin and she’s betting this alone can protect her from his betrayal. “If you can manage this I’ll have other, more sensitive tasks available to you.”
Cresente gives the ground a contemplative look for a moment, only replying with a hum. Rising to his feet, his wings unfurl and stretch for a brief respite from being above the fountain's waters. "Should I learn anything interesting, then you will be the only one to know." There is no formal send-off, no pleasantries exchanged. The talented stranger simply walks out of the gothic gardens, leaving the strange woman, and the painful sculpture behind him.