Poisonous Fox

When I spotted the lurking watcher, the potential burglar, it would have been smarter to ignore her. She was only in the vicinity of Ma’Ritz, hardly breaking and entering, and a confrontation could escalate quickly. But after a night of practicing and grinding away at bettering myself, it was simply put that I was bored.

Of course, I could have wrapped my poorly thought out decision in all manner of reasoning, but I was curious, and the lurker was just across the street, in the shadow of a building, watching the neighbors.

So without overthinking it, I sprung from my perch, from the balustrade atop the roof of Ma’Ritz.

The maneuver carried little risk to me, despite the fact that I was over three stories up and the fact that paved stones made up the sidewalk below. Afterall, due to Athleticism, and several sigils under Climbing, I had nothing to fear from heights. My weight was almost avian, and I had the proprioception and agility to of a preternatural gymnasts.

Of course, even for me, a drop from this height would have been painful. So, as I leapt from the balustrade, I somersaulted through the air until my feet faced the wall, and then I kicked out while activating my ability to climb any surface. The soles of my boots instantly stuck to the wood and brick ornamental wall.

But of course, even with my feet sticking to the wall, I carried enough downward momentum that I could not instantly stop. And even if I could instantly stop, I lacked the strength to hold myself parallel to the ground, supported by my feet alone.

But that was fine. I had no intention of stopping.

I began running down the wall, my feet lightly slapping the bricks as I dropped in an almost controlled descent. It was still an unstoppable sprint, headed towards the sidewalk below. If the wall had been a sheer front, then my footwork would have been simple, one foot before another. But the building was greatly ornamented with sills and shutters and carvings. As I ran downwards, I found myself picking my steps lightly, carried by gravity faster and faster, while I wove my footwork around the obstacles, only ever nearly missing these tripping hazards. I found myself grinning from the exhilaration. My false arm tensed in protest, putting a slight strain on my ribs and spine.

Even if I were to misstep and plunge face-first towards the ground, I trusted the false-arm to save me. It was selfish like that. The roots of its tendrils which wrapped my clavicle tightened, as though in protest. I ignored its non-sapient complaints.

I was less than fifteen feet from the sidewalk, and I quickly approached a decorative sill which wrapped the entire first floor of the building.

By this point, the girl across the street had seen me. Granted, I would have been only a shadow descending from on high, and descending rapidly at that. However, it was enough. First impressions mattered.

When I was ten feet from the bottom, just at the edge of the knee-high tripping hazard, I kicked off once more, spinning through the air to bleed momentum. I reoriented to land feet first, in a crouch. But as my feet hit the ground, the downward force was too much, forcing me almost to my knees. I salvaged the landing with a roll across the filthy ground, which I had not been planning.

Embarrassing, I thought. I could practically feel the girl’s eyes upon me.

To hide my shame, I acted as though the roll had been intentional, and I sprung back to my feet, making a show of wiping the dust off as I started walking across the street towards the girl.

However, she did not react as I thought she would. In hindsight, it made sense. Were I to be casing a target, and were I to see a supernatural feat of strength and agility from the person guarding the area, I likely would have been concerned as well. But my intentions had hardly been malicious.

When I stood up from my roll, I saw her tense. I could see it in her posture, the slight bent to her knees, the way her heels slightly lifted up.

When I saw this, I paused, and made a very slow wave.

She regarded me for a bit, I could see her bright green eyes beneath her hood, along with her pale red skin.

She frowned.

My brows furrowed.

Her frown slowly developed into a smirk. She placed a hand on a hip and straightened out some, enough to pop a hip out in what might have been a seductive pose were it not for her baggy clothes.

“Pull that stunt often?” the girl asked. “Cuz I thought you would go splat there for a hot second.”

As did I, I thought without saying. Though I remained silent, her lips curled up in a grin.

Seeing this, I hurried to defend myself, “Often enough. The fall was planned,” I said. Already, I was wondering how to best introduce myself, and how best to learn her identity. But before I could commit, she continued chatting away, hardly giving me much space at all to speak.

“Was it now?” she asked, a playful tone. “But why go through all that trouble? Even if you planned it all out, that maneuver must have been riskier than what a night guard would normally risk…”

I was taken aback, slightly.

Was she implying something? It almost seemed so, with the way she stressed some words, and with the point she made. But what was she getting at? Was it just idle chatter, or perhaps something more sinister? Could she be with the Garnets? With sudden doubts flooding through me, I had a sudden urge to flee. But I hated the idea of showing weakness. And I had yet to detect any trap waiting to spring shut. It was worrying and curious all the same time.

Meanwhile, her smug smile grew wider, but never genuine.

“Don’t mind lil ole me,” she said, a far too light voice, a far to knowing tone. “I was just curious as to what brought you down so suddenly… I doubt it was to simply say hello to this one.”

My ears perked up at that. Was she with the Kaiva then? Or did she know I was familiar with them? I shook my head, admitting the possibility that she was fishing.

“Oh, you did come to greet me?” she said, with a hint of mockery to her voice. “I’m flattered.”

I decided the best path forward would be to regain the initiative in the conversation. So rather than respond to her chattering, I bluntly asked, “Who are you?”

Her smiling lips parted to allow a delicate tongue to dart out, as though she were a snake tasting her own amusement. “Not as well mannered as I had hoped,” she teased.

She was mocking me. While a lack of respect may have been tolerable, were I to allow this to continue then I would lose credibility. It would mean an observer might feel at ease attacking me. I could not afford to appear weak, not at this junction.

Thus, I narrowed my eyes and began resuming my steps towards her. My false-arm twitched on its own accord, giving me a sense of security. Even if the girl was hostile–even if she had an ambush prepared somehow–I had skills, and my false-arm could kill. Easily. Likely messily. Honestly, the thought of its violent tendencies left me cringing just slightly.

But with my resumed approach, the girl perhaps realized the disparity in power, or perhaps she simply wished to avoid conflict. She began stepping back.

“Hey now,” she said. “What’s with that look in your eye? I’m not sure I appreciate it…”

I continued stepping forward, she continued stepping back.

Rather than repeating a question, I continued glaring at her. My false-arm twitched, the tendrils under the gelatinous material likely hungry for sustenance. As the girl irritated me greatly, I found no great dissatisfaction in humoring the fantasy of garroting her thin little neck.

It appeared the radiating hostility was felt; that my silence left the girl feeling unease.

“Alright, gods and spirits!It’s just talk!” She whisper shouted. “No reason to get all offended like this… Learn to trade barbs a bit. Ugh,” she groaned, “So serious,” she complained.

“I fail to find myself in the mood to humor barbs,” I said. “But I asked a question earlier: Who are you. Additionally, why are you observing the neighborhood?”

She coughed, “Well… you know…” she continued backstepping, retreating down a sidestreet away from me. “...I was just out for a late night stroll…”

“Unlikely,” I said. “But so long as you’re avoiding Ma’Ritz, I am not overwhelmingly concerned by your actions. Merely curious.”

“Really?” she asked sarcastically. “Because you aren’t acting unconcerned right now. This isn’t some curiosity that I’m sensing here. Just throwing it out there…”

My steps faltered.

Why was I radiating such hostility? It had not been my intent to pick a fight. While her words and attitude may have bothered me, there had hardly been any incentive to aggress. After letting out a deep breath, and after firmly halting my approach, I attempted to explain myself.

“I came down for introductions,” I said. “My apologies if I seemed more antagonistic than I planned.”

Her pupils almost seemed to quiver as they quickly examined me, though they almost seemed to linger on my false-arm; she gave a forced smile.

“...Riiight,” she said. “Well, in that case, name’s Belobog. You?”

“Jackie,” I said. “Since I saw you down here, I was wondering if you were running with a crew?”

“Ah…” she gave a waggle with her hand. “Not that I should really talk about, you know? More of a solo operator, yeah? But tell you what–” she paused, once again watching my false-arm. I felt several of its tendons coil and compress about my nerves “-Jackie, right? Yeah, I’ll be keeping an eye on you–”

“-I would rather you did not–” I spoke over the top of her.

“-and, I’m not saying I’m with a crew, but if a spot opens up for a stealth-focused acrobat, then I’ll let you know, kay?” she finished.

“It has been a while since someone had last attempted to recruit–” I began, before I felt a sudden sharp pain to my temples, reminiscent of a sudden migraine. By instinct, I hunched and clapped my hands to the side of my head, hoping to alleviate the pressure, and fighting the sudden urge to vomit.

“See ya around, Jackie!” the girl, Belobog said, almost sang, though her voice suddenly booming in my ears, even though she was traveling away rapidly, with her footsteps receding down the hill.

Once I could no longer hear her, the headache vanished, leaving little wonder at the perpetrator of the attack, if not the mechanism. But it might not have been her, and it could have been somebody else nearby.

So, as soon as the blinding pain left, I jumped to the left and rolled, before freezing in a low crouch, ready to spring in any direction. I paused, waited, listening and scanning my surroundings for any sign of what had just attacked me.

Gymnastics: 3/9 (+1)

But thinking back to the headache, nothing had struck me, and even if someone had unleashed some sort of airborne toxin, I should have had some immunity to it.

Which meant it must have been some sort of spiritual attack, a spell, or a strange talent perhaps. Regardless, I could not verify the vector that my sudden migraine had been introduced by.

I was certain that the girl, Belobog, had been somehow responsible. But why? Was it just a distraction, or had there been something more?

Once it became clear that no further attack was coming, I climbed the side of Ma’Ritz, quickly resuming my perch on the side of the balustrade.

Regarding Belobog, I had much to consider.

Without confirmation, I could only suspect that she had performed some nature of mental attack against me. This, however, jarred against the persona she had been displaying, the casual, almost friendly tone of her voice. And she had been fishing for information, I was nearly certain. Why else would she spread so many potential triggering terms throughout her little chat.

She reminded me of the false psychics that peddled their wares.

But why had she gone through the effort? Was it by habit? Or was it by intention?

I thought back to when I had first spotted Belobog casing the neihbhorhood. She had been clearly watching the adjacent building to Ma’Ritz, of that I had been nearly certain at the time. But looking at her alleged target, I found myself wondering what she could have found of interest there.

The building had an apothecary at street level, where high end every-day items were sold, targeting those commuting nearby. While they certainly had some valuables to rob, they hardly had anything unique, rare, or incredibly worthwhile, and I doubted that they kept a stash of Chargers hidden on premise.

Then, there were the businesses atop the apothecary. The best way to describe them would be a shared office building; it contained a variety of ‘white-collar’ workplaces, where lawyers, accountants, and scribes held court.

If I were to find anything of interest, it would be there, and it could potentially be extortionable intelligence. But that was only a ‘maybe.’

If the building I had thought Belobog was watching held nothing of interest, then I had to revisit the assumption that she had been watching the building at all. Which meant she had been in the vicinity, only appearing to watch it, for some other purpose.

She had stuck around until after I visited.

It would be narcissistic and egotistical to assume she had merely been seeking intelligence upon me. Perhaps she wanted to make herself known to me? Was the mental attack a threat then?

In the end, I had too many questions, not enough information.

I decided to shelve it and practice weaving with my battle ribbon.

***

Featherlight I (4/9) (+1)

I lost track of time while practicing, and soon the early hours of dawn had arrived. While I had been practicing grace: laying and sending out the ribbon with artful flair, I felt a familiar itch upon my arm.

At first, I had thought that I had finally gained a pertinent Talent for, perhaps, combat. However, the itch was not nearly as powerful as that. For when glyphs embedded themselves in flesh, it tended more towards a searing pain than a mere itching. It surprised me, when I checked which sigil had advanced. It had been Featherlight. In a way, it made sense, for I had been light upon my feet… but I still thought that my sigil for Gymnastics would have held more relevance to my practice.

Regardless, I would take the advancement to my sigils. Not that I had a choice in the matter.

After progressing in Featherlight, I gave a few experimental bounces on the soles of my feet. Using the momentum from transferring my weight from heel to toe, I could send myself several inches into the air in a short hop. Prior, I could only just barely gain clearance off the ground. I took this as evidence that either I was lighter or my feet stronger. Given the sigil, I assumed that I was now lighter.

Naturally, this led to additional tests. Which is how, an hour later, while practicing jumping from roof to roof, I caught sight of a hooded figure rushing towards the back entrance of Ma’Ritz. From their build, I could tell this person was not Belobog, but someone else. They were taller, but hunched over, and they were thicker. Of course, they were also wrapped and covered completely in cloth. Given their dress and the fact that it was still pre-dawn, this person appeared incredibly suspicious.

As they were nearly to Ma’Ritz, I decided to intercept them. I quickly landed back upon the rooftop of Ma’Ritz and I scurried to the edge; remembering my previous attempts to impress with a gratuitously dangerous maneuver, I decided to play this one a little safer. So rather than jumping straight off the roof, I rolled over the side and began crawling downwards. Given my sigils around climbing, I found it easy to climb, even though I was upside down and even though the blood ought to have been rushing towards my head.

I continued climbing, down one story, then another. All the while, the figure remained unaware of my presence. However, their trajectory was carrying them directly towards the back entrance of Ma’Ritz, and they were nearly there.

Rather than risking them reaching the door and performing who knows what potentially malicious action, I leapt from the wall, even though I was still ten feet up. In the air, once more I summersalted as I sailed downwards.

I landed in a crouch, my knees springing. My feet stung, my ankles trembled, but I avoided rolling across the ground like a fool.

At my arrival, the figure halted midstep. I got a clear view of their eyes under their hood and in the gaps of the cloth wrapping their face. Their eyes widened, their feline eyes.

“Wha–?” the figure, the female Kaiva said, taken aback, before recognizing me, just as I recognized her. “Jackie?”

“Cook?” I asked in return. “Why are you sulking about dressed as a criminal?”

Cook normally would have no business stepping outside of Ma’Ritz, as she both lived and worked there, and as the city was not the most hospitable to non-humans. Though it was not impossible for the beastkin to travel out and about, but in the upper city, they needed both a collar and paperwork in hand.

“Ah… this one will explain–” Cook glanced quickly to the left and right “-but inside. The kitchen must begin preparations soon.”

I shrugged, finding no reason to keep her from entering. I stepped to the side and let her unlock the back door, before following.

She hung her cloak on a lonely hook by the door, before unwrapping a long and thin scarf and hanging it as well. Next, she removed her gloves, also hanging them. Then finally, she removed the long and baggy robes she had been wearing.

Except for her eyes, her outfit had left nothing revealed.

“That disguise must be miserable in the summer,” I said off-handedly, watching her remove the rest of the costume.

“What summer, this one wonders?” Cook said, the corner of her lip curled, revealing several fangs.

Is there no summer here? I wondered if I had revealed more than I thought I had, and I quickly pushed on, ignoring the possible misstep.

“But that disguise does appear difficult to move in,” I said. “For more reason than one. Was there a reason you wore it?”

Cook scoffed. “As though the child does not already know the reason,” Cook said as she stepped further into the kitchen, beginning to rifle through the cabinets, searching for supplies.

“It is true that Southbridge is not the most welcoming of non-humans–” I nodded, knowing that far too well from personal experience. “But would there not be easier methods of going out? I could not imagine that the Peacekeepers or the Lower Knights would fail to find your appearance suspicious.”

“Ha,” Cook said. “And what does Jackie recommend?” Cook asked, somewhat amused, as though she were humoring me.

I paused, before considering aloud, “That depends, I suppose, on your intentions.”

“And this is when Jackie insists intentions are revealed?” Cook said, her amusement taking a somewhat harsher mix. “Revealing this one’s secrets?”

But to her surprise, I shook my head in earnestness.

“No,” I answered. “Your secrets are your own.” Because while I would love to know every secret, I owed Cook, and if she were mixed up in anything crooked, it might be best if I kept myself clear from it. Besides, I still owed her plenty of favors for all the free meals I had received from her. It was not as though I could find that same quality of meat and preparation anywhere, afterall. It was important to protect the supply chain which kept me nourished.

“Truly? This one will not be pressured?” Cook asked. She frowned, her brows furrowed. “Then why was this one interrupted before returning, if Jackie was not curious?”

I thought of giving a glib response, such as I was coming for breakfast. However, the mood failed to match anything of the sort, and instead I gave a small half shrug. “I failed to recognize you on your approach. As I am charged with keeping a watch at night, I thought to investigate or dissuade a potential incident. You must admit, your outfit could send the wrong message.”

“Ah,” Cook said, nodding. She set a mixing bowl on the counter and began pulling spices. “This one supposes that that was a valid reason for interruption. But then, assuming this one intended to move about the city unnoticed, what would Jackie recommend?”

I tapped my chin, leaning against a metal cabinet as I watched Cook work, grating tubers into the bowl. Whatever dish she was preparing likely required an inordinate amount of marinating; many of the popular dishes in Southbridge were like that, half-rotten vegetable dishes prepared ‘just right.’

Shaking off my musings of disgusting culinary practices, I answered.

“To go about unnoticed, were I you, I would find either a convincing disguise, or I would avoid going myself.”

“And my disguise was unconvincing?”

Air escaped from my lips. “No. It was incredibly suspicious and made it clear you had something to hide, which would only draw further investigation. A convincing disguise would be to appear as expected…”

“Which would be?” Cook asked.

I felt uncomfortable even saying this, so I pointed to my own neck where a collar would have gone, should I wear one. Because that would be the answer, to fit in and appear as expected such that stray eyes would glance over.

“Ah.”

I nodded in commiseration. “I suppose I cannot blame you for choosing your disguise,” I said. “If I were to choose between what you wore and shackles, I might choose suspicious garments as well.”

Cook nodded, continuing preparation of some sort of thick slurry. “But even were this one to follow your advice, humans dislike kunbeorn wandering the streets at night, even collared. Since this one’s schedule prohibits leaving during the day, claws are bound…”

“I had not realized that there was a curfew,” I said, mentally adding another reason to be glad for my spell, as expensive as it was.

“The curfew,” Cook said with scorn, “is only for those such as this one. But if this one cannot tend to her own errands, then perhaps Jackie may be of aid?”

I had a sudden uncomfortable feeling.

“That depends on what you require, I suppose,” I said with some hesitation.

Cook bared her teeth. “Just a small matter of locating a person of interest.”

If that was all she was asking, then I supposed the request was not overly onerous, and it would fit in well with my current task.

I did owe Cook.

“And this person of note is?” I asked for details.

“Does Jackie recall the Kaiva of note at the butcher shop?”

I thought back to it. There had been only one that stood out amongst the rest. “With white fur, green eyes?” I asked.

“Yes,” Cook smiled. “This one wishes to discover her whereabouts.”

I shrugged. “Sure,” I said. “But why? Who is she? And how should I go about finding her?”

“That one would be my previous… employer,” Cook said, after a drawn out pause. “And this one is unsure, but in the vicinity of that shop, perhaps? That is where this one would begin.”

“So across the divide then. In the slums,” I mused slowly, before nodding and coming to a final decision. “Alright, I’ll help out.”

Cook grinned, showing all of her sharp teeth.

“This one thanks you,” she said.

“Rather than words, thank me with breakfast,” I answered, grinning back.

Blessings: Rank (1/9)

Body: 65

Mind: 75

Spirit: 49

Talents:

Athleticism I (1/9):

Climbing I (4/9)

Featherlight I (4/9) (+1)

Inversion (2/9)

Gymnastics (3/9) (+1)

Stealth I (8/9)

Trackless Tracks I (3/9)

Area Coverage (5/9)

Alchemical Immunity (ineligible for growth)

Eschiver I (2/9)

Evasion I (1/9)

Impending Sense (2/9)

Lucky Break (6/9)

Spells:

Illusion I (5/9)

Touch (8/9)

Guise of the Kitsune (5/9)

Closed

Gifts:

Obsession (3/9)

Closed (0/9)

Closed (0/9)