Adrift

[Sage]

Something occurred to Emma as she noticed a sleight change in Prospero's attention toward his bag. He was carrying a lot of stuff to be going to the restaurant, and a fancy place like the one they were headed to were likely to complain, though she was unsure how much influence his secret mark might have on a refusal of admittance.

" Why don't you check your things at an Inn? There are plenty nice ones around, and you wouldn't have to carry all that stuff all over the District. "

She tried to make the comment as polite as possible, and quickly occupied herself with another piece of candy, blowing little puffs of smoke and fire into the cold night air.

[Syntaphar]

Well, removing the ebony box, his only means of procuring goods and services, was strictly out of the question. Beyond that, there seemed a great deal of efficiency in the policing authority here, and Dario did not put it past them to follow him and search his belongings once he dropped them off somewhere. Maybe he was being paranoid, but after that fiasco at the residential area gates, he chalked it more up to being cautious. That, and he had way too many poisons and weapons in his bag to let it be anywhere out of his sight. As reassuring as he could, he would turn to Emma and say: "Ya know what? I'm sure it'll be just fine. If my money is as good as it seems ta be, they shouldn't be able to afford ta turn us down."

With that, he would pull two platinum coins deftly from the box and roll them down the backs of his hands (the oldest dexterity trick in the book.). However, a thought would come to him halfway through. He hadn't noticed the guards tracking him, as he likely would have if they were. And a fancy restauraunt like that probably had better security than one would think. Swiftly reconsidering, and nervously checking through the missing strip of his sleeve to see if the mark was still there, he would say: "Well... Ya know, yer right. These things are much too obtrusive to carry around much longer. Let's head off to that inn.

[Sage]

The little girl, defeated, turned her attention to her feet as they paraded along the street. She considered what he has aid before, and wondered if he had trust issues with more than just kids when it came to his things. Actually, now that she knew him, and not just identified him as a foreign man with a fancy chest; he didn't seem like he would be all that wealthy. The thought crossed her mind that he had mentioned he lived in a place where at least there were enough poor children running around stealing that he had developed a mistrust of them.

Maybe he hasn't been rich all that long.

She nodded happily to herself, almost glad that it was the one reason and not another. She could only imagine if she had recently come across so much money, she wouldn't casually let it out of her sight, either. That left a few questions, though. The money was still in a chest, a fine one at that, and not joined into his personal pool of money. It also held obsidian, which could be a reward, if you did something for the right person. She could only assume that one would have to do an exceptional job at something to warrant such a reward.

She watched, nearly salivating as he performed the sleight of hand with the two glistening coins. She was happy he was in such a good mood, and even decided to listen to her suggestion, after all! Her mind wandered back to her previous train of thought, and she could not stop the question on the tip of her tongue from escaping.

" Ferri? Do you have any other talents? " Climbing a wall and coin tricks were impressive, but not what she was after. If he did indeed know a skill that could reward such a large sum of coin, perhaps he would demonstrate, or even teach her, so that she could aspire to do the same.

[Syntaphar]

Damn. Dario knew that it would eventually come to this, where he would pretty much have to give some satisfying answer to what he did for living. It certainly didn't mean he had to tell the truth, but he also didn't relish the task of coming up with a quality lie for the situation. With a flourish, he would rotate the coins around his hands and down into his palms, and place them back in the ebony chest. With a sigh and a downcast face, he would begin to decieve with all of his learned sincerity, careful to keep just a little truth in it.

"I have ta tell ya the truth Emma, but I must swear you ta secrecy on this. In truth, I'm a hunter o' the undead, unnatural creatures that arise when real powerful people are brought down at last. They leave somethin' behind, a horrible ghoul that inhabits their former body. Somethin' that shouldn't exist, and I try to make sure they don't. You mentioned Xavier Gottheit died. Yer more right than ya might think. However, he returned, and i've been hired ta take what's left down. Things like these, they start out actin' like the real thing, but they have an infinite amount of evil locked up in 'em. And in Saint Gottheit's body, that aint a good thing. Dead people should stay dead."

He would pul back his sleeve a little to reveal his razorwired and stolen right arm at this point. "This is my job and my curse. I make a good living, and I balance the world when I succeed, but I couldn't stop if I wanted to. I am bound to the lower realms to continue doing this until the day I die. I sincerely doubt you want to follow in my footsteps. Heh. not that you wouldn't be any good at what I do..."

With that, he would roll down his sleeve again, and begin walking with his things in the direction they seemed to be going. He wouldn't say anythong more unless prompted, and half expected Emma to run off, and maybe even tell the guards.

[Sage]

The truth was ugly, and sometimes hard to handle. Especially when one experienced too much of it at once, such as in Emma's case:

" The world is an ugly place. "

" People are only out for themselves. "

" Appreciate everything, because it can burn down around you in an instant. "

" And my hero, Saint Xavier, is a Revenant. Risen and walking around in his body. "

She uttered the sentences slowly, with purpose, in monotone. It seemed like, for a moment, she was handling it pretty well. But Emma wasn't that strong, she had her limits, even if they were relatively high for a kid. A single tear fell from her reddish eyes, something he had seen once before. But it was followed by another, and then another. The tears flowed freely, and she lost her composure and balance at the same, stumbling sidelong into a grouping of wicker containers.

She was barely trying to regain her footing, hands planted firmly on the ground as her legs failed her, collapsing uselessly beneath her weight. She sobbed quietly beneath the canopy she had fallen under, and gave in to her lack of the ability to stand. She curled her body inward, her face pressing into her knees. She stuttered once or twice, her breath catching as it sounded as though she might be trying to utter something to someone. But after a few failed efforts, she stopped making the little noises, and her sobbing was drowned out by the sounds of light rain.

There were maybe two anemic clouds in the sky, but the rain fell from all of the sky at once. It did not progress over the city, starting in one place first, and then travel overhead. It was as if the sky itself was sympathetic to Emma's plight, and wept right along with her.

[Syntaphar]

Oh wow. This was not what Dario had hoped for at all. He was a heartless assassin sure, but he could still feel bad about making a child cry. He began to stumble over his words, which were so eloquently falling forth even ten seconds ago. When Emma began to fall, He would try to dash around to her other side and stop her from falling. In his hesitation though, he could only stop her from impacting the wicker and ground too hard, and only by falling rather nastily into the wicker and ground himself. Shuffling quickly to an upright position next to her, he would pull in his bag and box to his side to keep them out of the rain.

this may have been the most uncomfortable moment of Dario's life, sitting in the rain next to a little girl that he had personally made cry. Trying to comfort her, he would put one arm around her, careful not to let his weaponized skin touch her in any way. He almost made himself chuckle thinking about how awkward this would look from the outside, let alone how awkward it was to actually be there. After what seemed like about a minute, he would try to cheer her up. "Come on, the world aint so bad. Ya gotta remember, that's not actually yer hero that's walking around, somethin' is just usin' his body. Tha real Xavier is up in Heaven somewhere, havin' a deserved eternity of bliss. And o' course people do selfless things. It just doesn't stand out as much compared ta the bad, ya know. It's sorta comforting ta know that tha bad is what stands out against the good, rather than the opposite, dont'cha think? Come on, stop crying, please?"

[Sage]

She couldn't help herself. She hadn't broken down after the accident, too fueled by the strength searching for her sister gave her. But now, losing hope after having not seen her for days, she began to deteriorate into a suddenly onset depression triggered by Dario's revelation that could end badly if not handled delicately. This was the kind of trauma mental illnesses were made of, and the fact that she felt as though this might be stirring a Focus in here did not make her feel better.

People who inherited their powers, or gained them in order to overcome enormous odds were regarded highly, the tales of the feats, or stories of their families often recanted with much joy in their hearts. But the people who gained Focus in this way, borne of Tragedy and hopelessness were more often than not spoken of in fervent whispers and dared glances. His explanation did not make her feel much better, as if visualizing a malevolent spirit defiling the corpse of a hero and a holy man wouldn't cheer up most children! The very nerve.

She managed, trembling, to point to a building down the street, whose entrance was alight with torches, and stood out as several people pooled around it's exterior. " You should go there, they can protect your things better than the others. Just leave me here...until you're done. P-please... "

[Syntaphar]

Dario felt really bad about all of this, of course. It was at that point he resolved to leave Emma alone, as she wished. He realized more than many that time alone can be a vital part of mental recuperation. Either way, he still wanted to make this right, to see this through, so he also resolved to come back and make sure she was ok when what needed to be done was done. Or, if she wasn't there anymore, he would try to find her. To account for this uncertainty, he would move as quickly as possible. He thought to himself about all the cliches he had heard about trauma sparking horrible destructive abilities in latent mages, and nearly managed to make himself laugh. How ridiculous a notion.

He would dash quickly to the alley next to the inn and make sure no one was watching. Once he was sure, he would rifle through the secret pockets of his bag, stashing things into his many pockets (Having a customizing tailor as a lifelong friend is more helpful than it sounds). He would stash his retractable razor wire garrotte in one of his pants pockets and a one-way mesh hood he always carried around in the other. In his coat pockets, he would stash a healthy amount of the coin from the chest and the small bottle of poison. Then, in a large pocket sewn to the inside of his left jacket breast, where he sometimes kept dossiers or legal papers on freelance messenger missions, he would place two of the obsidian plates. Magical as they were, they could certainly come in handy. And with a small chuckle, he would place a good deal of the Algerothian fire candy in his other inside breast pocket.

Anything more than this would significantlly weigh him down, so he would secure everything and head into the inn, paying what he had to. Assuming no problems, Dario would immediately dash to where Emma had indicated the Eagle's Grasp resided. If there was a back door, he would try to sneak in that way. If not, he may have some climbing to do. No big deal though. Not his arms.

[Sage]

Though she had been within sight of the Inn she'd pointed him to when he'd gone in, after he came back out, he would not see her, and yet the rain would persist. It grew in intensity, signaling the onset of a storm. Lightning lit up the city from various areas all around it, striking only Darkwood at the moment, but the slow rising of thunder signaled that the electrical elements of the storm were closing in quickly on Toryn.

As for the attempt to sneak into the restaurant's first level, his attempt would succeed, and he would be able to begin his search. The only back door available, unfortunately, led into an almost warehouse-like storage area for the incoming food and supplies for the business. It was not refrigerated as the back ice boxes were, but instead reflected the mild chill of the weather outside. There were two further choices for direction once inside the storeroom. There was a rather large walk-in closet with extra cookware and non-perishables. The second, and most obvious choice, was a gaping entryway rather than a door leading into the buzzing kitchen.

Inside the kitchen and all the way to the left were a series of lifts, the opposite side of the kitchen boasted a spiral stairway. The lifts were in constant use by the servers, with several of them using any one of them at once. The staircase did not seem to be a favored means of getting around to the various floors, though many more individuals worked at stations near it, due to the lower traffic through this part of the kitchen. The far wall of the kitchen held several two-way doors and chefs directing the many servers and lesser chefs, and lastly, in the far left corner was a small office, with the silhouette of an enormous man behind it.

[Syntaphar]

Hmm. This was not going to be an easy task to pull of, but at least no one was specifically looking for him. Dario would close the back door behind him and jam the door shut with one of his silver coins. Costly, but security is hard to come by. With that, he would put on the mesh mask and hide by the door into the bustling kitchen. The moment someone slightly larger than him would dash busily past, he would spring out, put a hand around their mouth and drag them out into the hallway, then into the nearby closet. Luckily enough, the arms he had stolen were a good deal stronger than his own. Assuming the capture went off without a hitch, which it had a fairly good chance of, Dario being an expert, he would place the chef in a sleeper hold until he passed out.

After a particularly awkward minute or so, Dario would emerge from the closet in a chef's coat over his outfit and the mesh mask back in his pocket. Little warm, but it would work nicely. Closing the door silently and heading into the kitchen, Dario would try to find the nearest unattended plate or bowl of food. If Xavier was here, Dario knew exactly where he was. And that was a considerable advantage. Assuming all of this went off without a hitch, Dario would quietly take the food into the stairwell. If this worked however, it would surprise the assassin to no limit.

[Sage]

Under-Chef Sue was a tough bitch. She had served in the Algerothian Royal Guard as a field cook, and mage adept during no fewer than three campaigns in her homeland. Women did not get to her position, in the kitchen or military, by being soft on their enemies, or underlings. She was built lightly, a key giveaway to her Cizokian heritage, though the hardy muscle tone in her appendages told of a possible dual heritage as an Algerothian. She was a pyrokinetic, and true to that spirit, she was all flare and spice.

Dario attempting to leave the kitchen was already a step over the line, though the fact that he was dealing with the wrong food for his classification nearly drove her into a dizzying fury. Servers served the food, and when customers did ask to see the chef, it was either her or the Head Chef's responsibility to see them, not a Saucier. She spoke in a harsh Algerothian dialect, clearly not her first language, and so quickly that even if Dario understood the language, he would scarcely be able to retain everything she said. As he attempted to leave the kitchen through the busiest area near the stairs, she would step in his way, jabbing him in a spot on his chest that was covered by a sewn-in patch to which she would refer in her rant.

" An jus what do you think you ahr do-ing? You, deal vi sau-ces, not vi zoops. You will return to yohr station! And if see sauce burns, I burn YOU! " Her threat was followed up with a bulb of fire erupting from a snap of her fingers, and she walked around her station, to watch him with her back against the wall as she went back to work.

"

[Syntaphar]

Well, no plan went without some major screw-ups, Dario supposed. Though this really was unideal. Basically, he had a choice to make. Either incapacitate this sous-chef, or somehow avoid her gave. The former, he wasn't certain how to do. The second seemed even less likely, as the eyes of a hawk were required for her job, and she had her sights firmly set on Dario. he could either wait for another chef to screw up, which they likely had been conditioned out of doing much (and at the same time, hope noone realized he didn't actualy work there), or he could get her out of the way. During this thought process, an idea occured to him. He had a rather hefty bottle of rare poison in his pocket. And it was paralysis poison, which would likely not kill if in the right dosage.

Either way, he would head back to the station surrounded by the most sauciers, as that was pretty much the only word he recognized out of her mouth. Luckily, he was not that bad a chef, and if Xavier was there, he assumed he had a bit of time. So he made the only sauce he really knew how to make, a Bearnaise Sauce. Once he had emulsified the mixture and flavored it with herbs (a process that didn't take ALL that long), he would sneakily take out his curare and pour enough into the mixture that a chef's taste test would greatly reduce motor function, maybe even render a person of slight enough build essentially useless. Afterwards, there was a little over a third of the poison left, more than enough to kill, but harder to make sure of.

With the utmost percieved respect, he would take his sauce over to Chef Sue, proffer it, and in his thickest traditional accent from his home say: "I'm so sorry, miss. I cannot seem to make this sauce correctly. Please, have a careful taste, maybe you can tell me what i'm missing."

[Sage]

Had he completely lost his mind? The Under-Chef looked like her head might actually explode, out of anger. She began to shake violently as she pointed at him, attempting to string together words powerful enough to describe the emotion she was feeling. This was interrupted, however, as a man came down the steps, flinging himself before Sue, and knocking Prospero out of the way causing his sauce to crash to the floor. Sue looked as though she might turn her rage on the waiter when the exasperated man flung an armful of gold, with no fewer than three platinum coins among them onto her workstation.

He hastily explained the request made by a rather bold gentleman who had shown up, having landed on the roof and began slinging coin around under the table and stirring up a scene. The patrons had not been offended by his entry, perhaps assuming it was perhaps some form of entertainment, and so he had been permitted to stay after he had paid for the damages, as well as his meal for him and his guest in advance. He had made a strange request, asking for two meals immediately, regardless of their contents. They would need to delay orders to other patrons to do so, but the bonus he had provided would be well worth it.

Sue immediately flung the waiter toward the lifts, instructing him to deal with some specific customers and apologize, claiming their food had burned or some such thing, and offer them their meal and drinks as complimentary. Then she set about going to the stations where their meal was being collectively prepared to handle the task herself. You didn't pay this much to have your food be bad, even if you made such an insane request at the expense of the kitchen and it's staff. The upside of this, however, would be that she would be distracted enough to forget about Prospero completely, unless he approached her again.

[Syntaphar]

Dario couldn't help but grin internally at how much he had made this woman lose her composure. the look on her face was almost worth getting his sauce knocked to the floor and him to the ground next to it. He listened carefully to the circumstance and couldn't believe his luck. A man lands on the roof with a guest and is recieved with instant enthusiasm by everyone there? Gottheit. He would still have to be stealthy about this though, even if Sue's gaze was averted. He saw the chefs and servers scrambling around some sort of seafood and salad, as well as a steak of unknown animal.

Assuming gender normative stereotypes, he would focus on the steak. He would wait for a chance when everyone working on or near it was looking the other way, bottle of poison in hand. Then, once he got even a brief moment, he would pour the rest of the bottle onto the steak and garnishes. The poison wouldn't really affect the taste too much, it would mainly just add a sense of dilution, which the other chefs might quickly correct. A dose like that, though it may take a minute or two on a man like Xavier, would paralyze a normal man to the point of asphyxiation. Knowing his luck though, Dario would have to finish the job himself.

Once that was done, and the cooks and servers began to tussle around organizing everythin, Dario would take the chance to step onto one of the lifts and send himself to the roof. Careful not to attract undue attention, he would be on his way.