She didn’t smile. But she was glad. Steady. Almost grateful. “So you do have a spine under all that folding.” She liked this face better. Even if it was threatening to kill her. It was more honest. “Good. I prefer company that bites back.”

She wasn’t much for threats, but Princess had made a good one. “Then slit them both. If she, if I… if you’re in danger, you should. That’s not a threat; that’s part of the deal.” She would eye the other woman a good bit longer. Now that they were no longer pretending, she wasn’t as timid. She straightened back up. No need for either of them to wilt. “But you need to understand. Cutting may not be your best play tho…mhmm…” Voice lost to the soft sound of hurt. Her teeth found purchase in the soft of her palm. Right at the edge. As she lifted her arm up and away, there would be a change in the steam. Denser. Whiter. And before it could be understood, the steam expanded and then solidified. The Pale held her by the hand, back turned to the Princess. Human, but skeletal. One leg slightly shorter, a smaller arm hanging from one of its elbows. Nude. She didn’t dare look at its face, but the grip reminded her of Gallen. Whatever mess the creature left she’d shake off into the pool, polluting the water. “They come when I bleed.” Shrugged like it made sense. “I’ve considered strangling before, but that takes a while. If I manage to bite myself, well, you see.” Considering proper ways to kill yourself when you were dangerous was simply good manners. “An arrow might work.”

She tapped the creature’s leg softly. “They’re not stronger than a man of similar size. But they don’t get tired. What one of them knows, they all know. So they must not see your face. I don’t think they…” And then she’d look back at the creature. “Do you feel pain?” the creature didn’t turn, but it did what could pass for a shrug.

“Hurts. Doesn’t. No matter. Work to do.” Voice of the servant that gave her the towel before. Perhaps the other woman would recognize it too. She wondered why it chose that one. It hurt less than others.

“If you ever see two of them.” She dropped her voice low. Unsure if it was possible. But she had a theory. “Run.”

She didn’t dismiss it yet. It just stood there.

Waiting.
 
"Good. I prefer companies that bite back." In a world full of monsters, gods, and those who think they're both? You either bite back, or you get eaten. Silk's lips twisted into a smile, the kind of smile a rat might show when cornered. "Makes things more interesting, don’t it?" Did a thief really have a backbone? No. But a thief got hands. Fingers that get in where they don’t belong. Most thieves were cowards. Even Silk. Cowardice was the currency that kept them alive. Thieves didn’t need spines. They needed wits. They needed patience. And above all, they needed to know when to run.

For a moment, Silk didn’t even breathe. She just stared, a long look at the Pale

Magic.

Why did it always have to be so fucking weird?

Silk leaned against a wall, arms folded in front of her, as she stared at the weirdness unfolding before her. It bent and stretched, twisted and turned, breaking every rule known to nature. Here’s a whole lot of bizarre shit to keep you entertained.

And the blood.

Blood, always blood.

Magic didn’t just happen. No, no, magic had to drip, spill, or pour like some recipe. A pinch of sacrifice, a dash of doom, and a healthy splash of unexplainable shit. And magic had rules, that no one bothered to explain, and when you did find out, it was too late and probably involved some kind of ancient curse. Don’t look into its eyes, don’t let it touch water after midnight, don’t sign anything in blood. Like, who even came up this stuff? The Eight?

The creature that had appeared, pale and wrong, wasn’t even close to something thief understood. If the woman died, if her body hit the dirt, why should the fiend not go with it? Logic. Simple. "If you’ve bled it all out, what happens when it’s dry? When there’s nothing left to spill?" Slitting a throat, that’s a quick way to get there. Problem solved, yeah?

She didn’t take her eyes off the creature. What it was doing, how it was standing, waiting. Waiting for its turn to spill blood. The fact that she could barely make sense of it didn’t make it any less unsettling. If anything, it made it worse.

@Vyn
 
“That’s the wrong question.” She said softly. Still watching the Pale, wondering what it was thinking about when it had no work to do. “The more they drink, the stronger and smarter they get.” She remembered the cook they lost in the southern underbrush. The man was missing a piece of his neck. Took a good ten minutes to die. Also saw a killer get his throat cut trying to breach the Nightline. That one only took about two. Dying was very inexact. Too unpredictable to plan around. Shroud only made it worse. Lines blurring beyond recognition.

If she died, would it be the end? Or just a bigger door for more of them to step through? Would they regain all their missing color and remember all the things they seemed to have forgotten? And would that be so horrible?

She gestured the Pale away. Princess clearly wasn’t the panicking sort. Which was good to know. But she didn’t gain anything from her discomfort. It came as quietly as it went. Never named that one. Wondered if that made a difference to their sort. She should summon a bestial one next. The humanoids were becoming too clever.

“Are you still in?” That was the right one.
 
Silk’s mouth pulled to one side, not quite a smile, not quite not. Her eyes tracked the Pale as it vanished. Silent, obedient, unsettling. Like watching a knife disappear into the shadows and not knowing where it’ll come up again.

“The more they drink, the stronger and smarter they get.” That means the worse things get, the worse they get. That's the system?
She pinched the bridge of her nose, she sighed “Right. Of course they do.”
Fucking magic. "Great." she muttered. She shook her head, trying to dispel the unease that had settled over her.

Her hand dropped and she looked at the spot where the Pale had been. “Yeah, yeah.. I’m still in. I said I’d watch you, and I will." She did not understand magic, and didn't want to. But she knew how to survive, and that meant adapting to whatever came her way...even if it was a bloodthirsty fiend. She rolled one shoulder and flexed her hand, the one that always itched when she got uncomfortable.

"Where should I find you next time?" Where would the woman be when the fiend got to take control?

@Vyn
 
“Fourteen days.” Calm. “Wagons of Elum. We’ll be camped by the city’s southern end.” She paused, thinking about it. “It’s not a big place.” Looking at the water she’d desecrated, she wondered if the Pale could drink the blood diluted. It would improve the trade for Vyn. Would likely cause some other issues too.

“But if you lose the trail,” She wasn’t sure it was possible to lose someone in the Wagons. Stranger things have happened lately. And strange was the name of the game.

“Ask for Vyn.” She would extend her bloody hand up in greeting out of habit. Wasn’t sure if Princess would take it. Wouldn’t matter.

“They’ll know who you mean.”

Didn’t say thank you. Didn’t ask whether the woman was sure. People said a lot of things they didn’t mean. But asking for someone by name? That meant walking the rest of the way.
 
“Southern end. Wagons of Elum. Got it.” The thief echoed. She tucked the name Vyn away like a lockpick. She would remember. She always remembered.

Silk hesitated, just a flicker of it, quick as a blink, then took the offered hand. A small jolt of discomfort. It was still wet, still warm. Blood wasn’t new to her, but it was best to be wary around blood magic. The Pale had left an uneasy sheen on the air, thick with something more than just flesh. There was an absence of pressure in the thief's grip. Silk's grip wasn’t weak, not exactly. There was strength in the fingers wrapped around the other woman's hand, but it was a loose, unengaged hold. There was no assertion, no real claim in the handshake. It was a neutral touch. No bond, no threat, no claim. Just something held.

“Name’s Silk.”

She didn’t linger. No time to waste. A servant, standing in the shadow of the pool, with blood on her hands? That wouldn't look right. "I will see you in fourteen days.” A quick glance around, and then Silk shifted her weight, let got of Vyn's hand and took a step back.

A night, thick with shadows, was waiting for the thief. There were other corners to turn, other faces to avoid. She turned on her heel and walked away, her presence dissolving like smoke in the wind.
 
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