Status: Active!
The Natural Order of Things
004 :: shrouded in darkness
Hidden comfortably in shadow, death by the name of Liri gnawed a stale hunk of bread and smiled to herself, letting out a hot breath in the stuffy air.
Cinnen was too… wet. She didn't like it. Liri was from northern Reverel, hundreds of miles from the coast, and this unfamiliar, omnipresent dampness to the air was choking. She coughed wetly, chest tight. Not much longer.
Peering out between two planks in the wall, Liri watched the sky. She had been on this rot-taken vessel for hours now. Stomach churning, breaths shallow, she would wait for the boat to dock at Rallar, and then she would be freed of the damn thing. She eyeballed the stars, then the distant horizon; a low mountain range rose feebly against the inky pinkish-red of dusk, shrouded in darkness.
Liri leaned back against the wood. She was crouched in the corner of her small room, placing the bed between the door and herself. Just in case. She was quite sure no one on this ferry would recognise her, but she couldn't afford to risk anything. Not now. She had come so far.
She stuffed the last of the roll into her mouth and, chewing thickly, unfolded a grimy sheet of paper from her pocket. A map. A crude one, drawn in smudgy ink and labelled in Revereli, with a small photo pinned to the corner. Frowning at the photo, Liri traced her path so far. So many miles — thousands of miles, what a journey. So far. So very far from home. Liri was hardly seventeen, and most of her employers had kept her missions close to home. This was only the third time she had left Reverel, and it was her first time as far north as Cinnen.
"You better be worth it, Mr. Fawkes," she whispered to the photograph. Then she folded the map back up, slipped it into her pocket once more, and waited.
It seemed hours before docking. The boat jolted, jarring Liri from a hazy half-sleep; she jumped to her feet and grabbed her coat from the wall hook, pulling it on hurriedly. She hadn't brought anything else with her. She wouldn't be needing it.
Liri left the cabin in almost the same state as it had been when she entered it — minus a platter of bread rolls — and hurried to the deck. There had not been many passengers on this boat, for which she was grateful.
She had learned conversational Cinnish before beginning her trip, but nothing more. Usually, there wasn't much of a need for languages to someone like Liri, but Cinnen was so far from her home that she had decided to play it safe. She cleared her throat, muttered a quiet thanks to the ferryman, paid his fee, and scurried off the boat as fast as her nauseous body would go.
Liri was quite short, stocky of build and well-muscled. She looked too much like an assassin, she thought, to successfully disguise herself as anything else, which was one of the only real downfalls of her profession. Aside from the obvious moral crises, of course. She'd done her best to hide her features with an oversized coat and a pair of ladies' boots, but she wasn't convinced.
Rallar was a small but sprawling coastal city — or what passed for a coastal city, as the coasts were too unstable to provide a solid foundation for building — only a day's travel from Aurandren; Liri had planned to stop there for a short time, and continue to Aurandren to arrive early the next morning. She hoped dearly that her sources were reliable. Aurandren was far from easy to get into, and if her quarry was not there, she would have to start over completely. Fortunately, he should be easy to track down, if indeed he was where he was meant to be.
She feared very few things, and Fawkes was one of them. She had very nearly refused the mission. Fawkes was one of the strongest — possibly the strongest — kvuri known to exist; he left a wide swath of destruction in his wake as he moved, and he never stopped moving. No one ever saw him more than once, and if they did, they died soon after. Liri thought that to be entirely silly. Superstition was not the fuel of her wariness.
In Reverel he was called Kvu-Turi, meaning "bone hunter". Liri knew very little of the deeper recesses of kvurisi, and that very little had gotten her very far; she could only imagine the power such a kvuri held within him.
Liri made her way through the crowded marketplace that surrounded Rallar's river port, deep in thought.
Cinnen was too… wet. She didn't like it. Liri was from northern Reverel, hundreds of miles from the coast, and this unfamiliar, omnipresent dampness to the air was choking. She coughed wetly, chest tight. Not much longer.
Peering out between two planks in the wall, Liri watched the sky. She had been on this rot-taken vessel for hours now. Stomach churning, breaths shallow, she would wait for the boat to dock at Rallar, and then she would be freed of the damn thing. She eyeballed the stars, then the distant horizon; a low mountain range rose feebly against the inky pinkish-red of dusk, shrouded in darkness.
Liri leaned back against the wood. She was crouched in the corner of her small room, placing the bed between the door and herself. Just in case. She was quite sure no one on this ferry would recognise her, but she couldn't afford to risk anything. Not now. She had come so far.
She stuffed the last of the roll into her mouth and, chewing thickly, unfolded a grimy sheet of paper from her pocket. A map. A crude one, drawn in smudgy ink and labelled in Revereli, with a small photo pinned to the corner. Frowning at the photo, Liri traced her path so far. So many miles — thousands of miles, what a journey. So far. So very far from home. Liri was hardly seventeen, and most of her employers had kept her missions close to home. This was only the third time she had left Reverel, and it was her first time as far north as Cinnen.
"You better be worth it, Mr. Fawkes," she whispered to the photograph. Then she folded the map back up, slipped it into her pocket once more, and waited.
It seemed hours before docking. The boat jolted, jarring Liri from a hazy half-sleep; she jumped to her feet and grabbed her coat from the wall hook, pulling it on hurriedly. She hadn't brought anything else with her. She wouldn't be needing it.
Liri left the cabin in almost the same state as it had been when she entered it — minus a platter of bread rolls — and hurried to the deck. There had not been many passengers on this boat, for which she was grateful.
She had learned conversational Cinnish before beginning her trip, but nothing more. Usually, there wasn't much of a need for languages to someone like Liri, but Cinnen was so far from her home that she had decided to play it safe. She cleared her throat, muttered a quiet thanks to the ferryman, paid his fee, and scurried off the boat as fast as her nauseous body would go.
Liri was quite short, stocky of build and well-muscled. She looked too much like an assassin, she thought, to successfully disguise herself as anything else, which was one of the only real downfalls of her profession. Aside from the obvious moral crises, of course. She'd done her best to hide her features with an oversized coat and a pair of ladies' boots, but she wasn't convinced.
Rallar was a small but sprawling coastal city — or what passed for a coastal city, as the coasts were too unstable to provide a solid foundation for building — only a day's travel from Aurandren; Liri had planned to stop there for a short time, and continue to Aurandren to arrive early the next morning. She hoped dearly that her sources were reliable. Aurandren was far from easy to get into, and if her quarry was not there, she would have to start over completely. Fortunately, he should be easy to track down, if indeed he was where he was meant to be.
She feared very few things, and Fawkes was one of them. She had very nearly refused the mission. Fawkes was one of the strongest — possibly the strongest — kvuri known to exist; he left a wide swath of destruction in his wake as he moved, and he never stopped moving. No one ever saw him more than once, and if they did, they died soon after. Liri thought that to be entirely silly. Superstition was not the fuel of her wariness.
In Reverel he was called Kvu-Turi, meaning "bone hunter". Liri knew very little of the deeper recesses of kvurisi, and that very little had gotten her very far; she could only imagine the power such a kvuri held within him.
Liri made her way through the crowded marketplace that surrounded Rallar's river port, deep in thought.