1. Silk

    Private Under the Father's Eye

    Ko’s holy idiots. Silk watched the little pantomime with the key like it was a puppet show. Silk let out a sharp click of her tongue after the Cleric stormed out. “Storms and piss, Waysira,” she hissed. "You owe me compensation for that trash map you sent me in with. Might as well have been...
  2. Silk

    Private Under the Father's Eye

    She paced a lazy half-circle around the room, fingers trailing across a shelf like she was checking its pockets and still fiddling with a frayed thread on her stolen robe. Flinched surprised at the "Enough!". Her head cocked, watching him sputter his outrage. Oh, this, she thought, this is...
  3. Silk

    Private Under the Father's Eye

    Mouthy wench, she calls me. “Oh? A whore, you say?” she said. "I think you wish I was.” Her eyes darted to Waysira, quick and sharp. Then it flicked to Santiago, just long enough to see the twitch in his jaw. A stack of scrolls brushed her arm as she walked about like the curious cat she was...
  4. Silk

    Private Under the Father's Eye

    Freedom. Well, sort of. Not the running-out-into-the-night kind. Silk hit the floor on her feet, barely, ankles wobbling as blood rushed back into them. The legionnaire’s grip had left little phantom bruises, tender stripes of indignity. The thief rolled her shoulders. Her grey eyes flicked...
  5. Silk

    Private Under the Father's Eye

    Traitors gonna betray. And that was exactly what Waysira did. Silk barely had time to blink before the whole damn room tilted. Of course Waysira didn’t even put effort into a lie. Just tossed her under the wagon like it was old bread crumbs. Honestly? Fair. If the roles were reversed, Silk...
  6. Silk

    Private Ride or Die

    She followed Zalan toward the pool, the heat rising off the water as a thick breath. The tiles underfoot were slick with moisture and years, veined in green algae and gold from the old glaze. The air was so warm it made her skin hum. When Zalan let his towel drop and stepped into the water, she...
  7. Silk

    Private Ride or Die

    “Glad you liked her.” Whatever passed between him and the old woman had opened some door he hadn’t closed. “You’re welcome to visit her, y’know. Anytime you want.” His breathing sounded off. Too open. She knew why, he had been marked by the old woman’s delirious attentions. Curiosity, lust, or...
  8. Silk

    Private Under the Father's Eye

    Silk said nothing. She couldn’t afford the wrong word now, not with Santiago’s shadow stretching over the hall like a noose. She didn't lift her head, only let her body sag a little more in the soldier’s grip, like the very mention of Waysira had snuffed what little breath she had left...
  9. Silk

    Private Ride or Die

    The tattooed man watched Zalan dust off his ghosts. “New?” Orios finally said, words rolling out slow. “No, Zalan. That name’s old now." His mouth twitched. "You think I gave you that name?” A chuckle, all wet and rotten. “You earned it. Burned it into the Kherric’s face 'when your blood got...
  10. Silk

    Private Ride or Die

    He looked like something wild now, something scorched and sacred and not all the way come back from whatever fucking edge he’d just looked over. The light caught in the sweat along his throat. And his eye, gods, his eyes, still mirrored the flame he’d drunk in that room. Still open to the world...
  11. Silk

    Private Ride or Die

    She heard him before she saw him, footsteps like they belonged to someone else, staggering and wide. And there he was... Silk was perched on the crumbling ledge like a gargoyle, boot swinging over the edge. Orange peel coiled beneath, a discarded ribbon. She licked juice from her fingers...
  12. Silk

    Private Ride or Die

    The old lady Poxwife stood before him, barefoot on old planks that creaked. Watching as her tea burned its truth into his bones. Her hands draped at her sides, loose, languid, as if boneless, her fingers moving like they remembered silk sheets and sin. One step, and her hips swayed not like an...
  13. Silk

    Private Ride or Die

    The old elf didn't blink. Just rolled the words over once, let them hang in the stale air. Then, cruel and slow as frostbite, he replied. “That so?” he murmured. A drag of quiet contempt. “That why you keep trying to outrun it like a rat on a sinking ship?” His eyes hollow as an old well...
  14. Silk

    Private Ride or Die

    "Don’t flatter yourself thinking you’re anything more than a pup under my shadow.” The elf had seen lifetimes pass like shadows on a wall. Zalan was but a flicker in the dark to Vendik. He tapped the flat of the knife against his palm. No threat in it. The elf tilted his head, just enough to...
  15. Silk

    Private Ride or Die

    The thief leaned into it. Let him curl around her like smoke in a lantern glass. Her body answered before her mouth did, hip shifting to tuck closer, shoulder rising to meet his kiss like it had known it was coming. A slow smile curved her lips. “Mm,” she hummed. Let the sound linger. Felt the...
  16. Silk

    Private Ride or Die

    The thief didn’t like what-ifs. What-ifs got people killed. What-ifs were for dreamers, gamblers, folk who thought they could outwit the gods. And she wasn’t that. She was a knife in a boot and a plan in the moment. She should’ve been, should’ve stayed, sharper than this. All these little...
  17. Silk

    Private Ride or Die

    The thief huffed a low laugh as his little ember voice. “Say nothing. Flash a smile. Tell her you’ve no coin but plenty of bad decisions. That’s the kind of men she wasted her youth on.” Silk shifted just enough to look up at him, her lips twitching at his half-laugh. Her lips curved into a coy...
  18. Silk

    Private Ride or Die

    “Sometimes.” she said, after a pause. The word came like it had been weighed first. A thumb pressed against the side of the wineskin, just to feel the give of it. Her eyes stayed on the fountain, where the green water shivered in a breeze and caught the memory of sun in strange ways. “... when...
  19. Silk

    Private Ride or Die

    A three-legged chair sat askew near the balustrade. Someone had once set up to drink here, long before time and sickness took the house. Her eyes lingered on the rusted iron table, the empty goblet overturned on it. The copper guttering had long since corroded to green. Birds nested somewhere...
  20. Silk

    Private Ride or Die

    He’s serious! This was serious coin. All of it, gone like ash in the rain. Because he suddenly thinks he can’t trust her or can’t trust himself? What the fuck are you doing, Zalan? She should speak. Should argue. Tell him the job wasn’t worth calling off. That he was being an idiot. But the...
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