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The Lord Ruler's perfect capital city, Luthadel, is doing the impossible: rebelling. Skaa half-breeds are being taught the power of Allomancy, something that the Lord Ruler's obligators said only existed in the nobility. The enslaved skaa, with their murderous benefactor, now fight back against a living god's oppression.

So, the Inquisition was formed. The nobles begin to fear assassination from all sides. The times of nobility Mistborn killing each other are over. The Steel Inquisitors look for aristocrat traitors and insurgent skaa, and the skaa try with all their strength to merely survive. The Lord Ruler's perfect Final Empire is slowly devolving into chaos.

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Eliane Casuana

Noble Seeker

2 replies to this topic

#1 Eliane Casuana


  • Seeker Streetear

85
Crewleader
  • Age23

  • Relationship StatusSingle

  • OriginAustrex

  • Allomantic StatusHidden

Posted 05 July 2017 - 07:17 AM

Eliane Casuana
Noble Misting



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Name/Handle: Feather, FeatherWriter
Contact: Skype, Discord, PM, just ask me for it!




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Name: Eliane Casuana (Alias: Lea Quitose)
Type: Noble
Age: 23
Gender: Female
Place of Origin: Lansing City
Occupation: Street informant / Barkeep
Relationship Status: Single




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Type of Powers: Misting
Metals Used: Bronze
Degree of Skill: Advanced (Savant)
Status: Hidden




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Eliane is unassuming, and quite intentionally so. She’s put quite a bit of time and effort into becoming forgettable. Of average height, at 5’6” and a slender build, she’s easy to lose track of. She keeps her wavy, dark brunette hair short, but not unfeminine in cut, just barely longer than her chin. Her eyes are almost the same color, though darker, a brown verging on black. Her skin is light tan, and of clear complexion.


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Due to her troublesome childhood, Eliane is cursed with a deep-set fear of Allomancy, despite the obvious hypocrisy that she is, herself an Allomancer. Being around Allomancers makes her somewhat nervous, and she tends to be more suspicious of them than other people, feeling that they are more likely to be inherently bad people. Emotional Allomancy is the worst for her, and being targeted by either a Soother or a Rioter can send her into a panic attack. She burns bronze at an almost constant flare, paranoid that there might be Allomancers around her.

That innate contradiction, being an Allomancer who hates Allomancers, is a source of personal confusion for her, when she lets herself think about it. She believes Snapping is what made her father a bad person. She fears that deep down, the fact that she too has Allomantic power means that someday she’ll become a monster, just like him. She hates her bronze, but she’s too terrified of not knowing who’s around her to ever turn it off.

Despite her fears, Eliane tends to be fairly competent in taking care of herself, street-wise and savvy. Aside from being biased against Allomancers, she’s a sharp judge of character and has learned to handle herself in brushing shoulders with some of Luthadel’s less savory elements. Though not a natural-born strategist, she’s one who has had a lot of practice taking risks and learning to keep herself alive and away from unwanted attention.

Using running a bar as a cover for meeting with contacts and gathering useful tidbits off of drunk nobles, Eliane has mastered the charming hospitality that a barkeep is expected to have. She’s genuinely warm and friendly, and likes meeting new people, though there’s always a piece in the back of her mind that files people she meets by how useful they might be for calling in favors.

Though she isn’t openly a part of the Casuana House in Luthadel, she still feels some lingering House loyalty, even while living under the radar. She tries to keep her actions to things that will help House Casuana and their allies or hurt their enemies. She has a wary working relationship with the Ministry, who are aware of her and her real identity. In order to keep them placated, she often offers them intel, usually tips on skaa mistings.

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Special Skills: Espionage, Intel-gathering, Stealth, Organization, Making Contacts, Mixing Dang Good Drinks

Strengths: Eliane is highly self-sufficient, having learned to take care of herself and watch her own back. She’s careful and likes planning to minimize risks. She’s excellent at meeting people and keeping track of traded favors. She’s a determined person and tends to be clever when it comes to problem solving. Her skills with bronze are savant-level, due to her near-constant flaring.

Weaknesses: The most obvious weakness of Eliane’s is her phobia, and the way emotional Allomancy will all but shut her down if it catches her off guard. She tries to hide her fear, as she thinks it would make her easy to manipulate, but can’t always keep her reactions from slipping free. Additionally, though she carries a knife, she’s not a fighter and doesn’t have much physical prowess in general. Though she’s got street-smarts, Eliane fled from true noble life when she was young and has no practical experience in noble court life.




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Eliane vividly remembered her father telling her that Allomancy made some people better than others.

A grand and powerful gift, her father, Renholm, loved to say, bestowed upon we of the nobility because we are better than the skaa. Allomancers are better than those who lack power. The Final Empire is a brutal place, and the strong must rule the weak. The powerful are greater than the powerless. She remembered the Pull on her awe, instilling a reverence she didn’t really want.

The reality, she learned, was the exact opposite. Allomancy wasn’t something that made people great.

Allomancy made people into monsters.

It just made sense. No good came of Allomancy in her life. Allomancy was the heart of her father’s cruelty towards both her and her brother, Dier. It wasn’t always that way. Once, their house had been warm and welcoming. She had vague memories of when she was very little, when her mother was still around. When her father laughed.

Those days seemed like a dream, and they were gone as quickly as waking up.

It started when her mother, Chari, grew very ill and passed away. Only five years old, Eliane understood little of what was happening, why her mother was gone. She didn’t understand why her father was different now, couldn’t comprehend the black cloud that settled over the house in the months that followed.

Renholm Casuana was consumed by grief, unable to get over the tragedy of his wife’s death. On the first anniversary of her passing, Renholm attempted suicide, seeking a way to be reunited with his beloved. His valet found him hanging in his study and was able to cut him down in time to save his life.

That night changed everything. Though Renholm had gone through a beating during his younger years in hopes of Snapping him, his suicide attempt managed to do what that earlier trauma had not: he gained the power of zinc, a rare, fledgling Allomancer in his later years.

His new powers became an all-consuming passion in his life, his grief forgotten. He had not the subtlety of a practiced Rioter, and instead prefered powerful flares of emotional Allomancy, an unmistakable influence on those around them. It was a statement of power and control, and he wanted them to know it was him doing these things. He seemed to relish it, the control that zinc gave him over other people. He used it against the servants, terrifying them into obedience.

Most scarring, he used it against his children. Both Eliane and Dier quickly learned the horrible touch of Renholm’s Allomancy yanking on their emotions. He didn’t always use fear, though fear was common. Eliane could remember evenings huddling in a corner, consumed with an unnatural terror as her father beat Dier or a servant, wanting to help but being unable to bring herself to move. Other times, she was the one bearing the brunt of abuse, screaming for help even though she knew her brother cowered elsewhere, just like she always did.

Yes, there were physical beatings, but they never seemed as awful as that force, reaching into her mind, changing what she felt. A beating could break skin or leave bruises, but nothing compared to the invasive cruelty of the Allomancy.

They were unnatural sensations, always unwelcome. She could remember the adoration he provoked at times, an unnatural affection for a father who no longer understood love beyond something he could force other people to feel. She hated that worse than the fear, because even as her heart swelled to see him, the logical part of her mind knew how fake it was and how much she hated him beneath it.

Those moments of overwhelming sensation only made things worse, though. As her father became more proficient with his powers, there arose a constant fear in Eliane that her thoughts and feelings were not actually her own. She wondered constantly if her father was influencing her reactions to anything and everything. Even when she couldn’t detect his touch, was that a sign she was free of influence, or a sign that he was manipulating her perfectly? Nothing was safe, not so long as she was in her father’s presence.

As Renholm practiced with zinc, he also gained a fervent belief in Ministry doctrine regarding the superiority of noblemen, and in particular, the superiority of Allomancers. He believed the abuse he inflicted upon his household was his right as an individual of power, an authority bestowed by the Lord Ruler himself upon worthy members of a great lineage. He spoke at length in tracts about the blessings and rights of power.

As her home became a more hostile and unwelcoming place, Eliane found reasons to sneak away from the house whenever she could. There was a kindly skaa who would come to make deliveries to the house, Berren, and he always brought her something special. When she grew older, he helped her slip away, and she’d spend hours out in the streets of Lansing City. It was dirty and dangerous and chaotic, but it couldn’t get inside of her, and for that, the streets felt more like a home than her father’s house ever would.

Berren knew things, and knew people. He spoke of far off places in the Final Empire, and the things he’d learned back when he traveled. He knew how to change the way he talked to sound noble or skaa, and he could fit in anywhere. He taught Eliane how to listen, how to pick out the things that were important, and how to figure out who would want to know those things most. She was young, but the lessons she learned out there interested her far more than anything her tutors back at the manor could teach her.

Renholm’s obsession with Allomancy extended beyond his own love for his powers, as he quickly became fixated on the idea that Eliane and Dier might be Allomancers as well, now that he knew his bloodline had power. The beatings he inflicted were often in hopes of drawing out Allomantic power from his son and daughter.

----


Eliane was thirteen when everything finally broke apart.

Frustrated by a lack of results, Renholm was convinced that he simply hadn’t gone far enough in order to Snap his children. He remembered that his own family’s attempts to Snap him hadn’t been enough, and he believed this was what was happening with Dier and Eliane.

That night, flush with rage and likely a significant amount of spirits, he beat Dier more cruelly and thoroughly than he ever had before, as Eliane hid away, trying to shut out the horrible sounds of it. It was too much, he went too far.

The silence afterward told her something had gone horribly wrong.

Eliane felt him coming before she saw him, as she always did. The Allomancy washed over her, bringing an uncomfortable sense of confidence, of trust, of affection. A sickening sense of rightness on a night when everything was wrong. She shook as the door opened and her father stepped in. He’d washed his hands, but he’d missed a streak of Dier’s blood on his face.

Unable to find the will to resist, she simply huddled as he gently gathered her into an embrace and stroked her hair, telling her everything would be just fine.

“It’s alright, little Ellie,” he said, holding her close enough that she could feel the words rumble through his chest. “Your brother simply wasn’t strong enough. He wasn’t worthy. But don’t worry, dear one, you are our House’s hope now. I can feel it. You’re going to be a strong Allomancer for this House, just like your father.”

She fled that very night.

Stuffing a few possessions and as many boxings as she could steal in a bag, Eliane slipped away from her house one final time, escaping into the dark streets of Lansing City. It was the middle of the night, but she woke Berren, trying to explain through choked sobs what had happened and why she couldn’t go back. The old streetear understood. He had some friends on a canal barge who owed a favor, a crew that could be trusted to look out for her until she got wherever she was going.

It was a terse exchange, with some valuable intel offered in trade, but when the barge shipped out in the dark early morning before sunrise, Eliane Casuana was on it.


----


As the months passed rather uneventfully on the canal, Eliane learned about the crew and ingratiating herself to them. She wasn't accustomed to chores but she found she enjoyed helping out. There was a defensive aspect to her friendliness, though. She wanted to make sure she had people on her side if things ever turned bad.

Though there were a few nobles overseeing the ship’s workers, most of the crew were skaa laborers. She found that she liked that more than she would have expected. Skaa were safe, weren’t they? Everyone knew skaa couldn’t be Allomancers.

The captain said the barge would travel as far as Luthadel before they turned back. Eliane decided that was her destination then, as far from the south as this boat would take her. Besides, she'd heard of Luthadel's grand size, sprawling with people. Surely if she could lose herself anywhere, it would be there.


----


A few months into the trip, she fell terribly ill, a wasting sickness that left her bedridden for more than a week. She woke only fitfully, in short, hazy intervals. She was only vaguely aware of the ship’s physician tending to her through it all. Lukewarm broth being passed over her lips, wet towels mopping sweat from her brow. She thought she could hear her father’s voice, weeping for her mother, lost to a sickness just like this.

She drifted.

When she finally returned to herself, she lay still for a long while, keeping her eyes shut in the dark. Though her delirium seemed to have mostly passed, she could still feel the heat of the fever burning through her, and her head pounded with a crippling headache.

A weak sound escaped her and she heard someone shuffle beside her cot. A cup was pressed against her lips and she raised her head, trying to get a better angle to sip at it. She levered herself into a position that was not quite sitting, but was at least more upright than she’d been before. The water was room temperature, but it felt icy against her scorching skin.

“Careful there,” a familiar voice said beside the bed. “Don’t drink too quickly or it might return on you.”

She blinked, eyes focusing on the physician as he gave her a comforting smile. Tadren, if she was remembering his name correctly. A lesser noble, he was an older man, still spry even though he was in his fifties. He’d always had a kindly air about him, but before falling ill, she hadn’t spoken with him as much as the other crew.

“Our runaway returns to us,” he said, taking the cup back as she finished with it. “I wasn’t certain you would, at a few points. You’re a fighter, miss.”

A beam of sunlight, filled with motes, sliced through the dim cabin, but the time was meaningless to her. Her headache still pulsed painfully through her skull. “How long was I out?”

“Almost nine days, and I’m certain you have some more rest ahead of you yet.” His smile turned sly, as though he’d told a joke he was waiting for her to get. “I must admit, of the things I imagined finding on this trip, a sister was not among them.”

She frowned, wondering if she were still delirious. “A… what?”

He chuckled as he saw her wince. “If the pulses bother you, you can always stop burning. Or, I suppose I could, but I thought you’d like to like to figure it out for yourself.”

The words seemed like nonsense until her addled thoughts finally managed to wring coherence from them. Pulses, burning, the headache. Her breath caught in her throat, as she was consumed with a nausea that had nothing to do with her illness.

“Y-you… what did you…”

He patted her shoulder. “It’s a gift, I think, for making it through such a harrowing sickness. You’ve been blessed.”

She tried to speak again, but found herself grabbing for the bucket on the floor, barely managing to raise it in time before she emptied the watery contents of her stomach into it. Tadren rubbed her back in gentle circles, still unaware that anything was wrong.

No, unaware that everything was wrong.

As she finished spitting the last of the foul-tasting bile from her mouth, he handed her the cup again. She winced against the tang as she swallowed down a mouthful. The thumping against her briefly subsided, but after a few moments, it returned, along with a heat within her that she now realized was not a fever.

The water! She shook the cup at him feebly. “You put something in this!”

“Ah, it’s perfectly alright, dear,” he said, misunderstanding her accusation. “I have bronze to spare if you ever need a pinch or two.”

Her hands were shaking and she couldn’t seem to make them stop. “You did this to me…” she said, her mind needing something to blame for what was happening. “Take it back! I can’t… I don’t want this!”

He frowned as he saw her start to panic, and abruptly, the pulses cut off. He stopped burning his metal, she realized. He’s an Allomancer. And… so am I. Bronze, he’d said. A Seeker.

“Don’t worry,” he said calmly. “If it’s the crew you’re worried about, I don’t need to tell anyone. They wouldn’t mind, anyway.”

“No, no, no,” she said, desperate panic starting to take over. “You’ve got to undo this! You have to take it back! I can’t be this! I can’t be one of them!” She seized his wrist, holding on with a death grip, begging him to do something to fix this.

“Young miss,” Tadren said, sounding uncertain as he tried, unsuccessfully, to pull his arm away from her. “I haven’t done anything. Your sickness Snapped you, that’s all. It’s perfectly natural, especially for someone of your heritage. It’s a common physician’s trick to mix a bit of the eight basic metals in with a patient’s broth when an illness becomes severe. If you’d been a Pewterarm, you might have been over this malady days ago. It’s always safest to check.”

Despair began to set in, terrible, impotent despair. This wasn’t something that could be undone. That wasn’t how these things worked. She squeezed tears from her eyes, feeling them slip down her cheeks. With as little as she’d kept down, she probably couldn’t spare the moisture, but she couldn’t help it.

“Please, please,” she said, pleading. “There must be something you can do. Some way to make this go away!”

Tadren finally managed to wrest away his hand, shaking his head. “I think you are… still confused, young miss. You shouldn’t be exerting yourself like this. You need to rest.” He rummaged through his bag, bringing out a small phial. “It’s best if you sleep a while longer. We can sort through everything when you’re recovered.”

She realized what he intended to do too late, as he dripped the liquid onto a handkerchief, a heady odor filled the room. She tried to turn away as he placed the cloth beneath her nose, but he was practiced in dealing with unruly patients and she was still so very weak.

As the drug worked to pull her into numb, empty unconsciousness, she had one final thought: she might have gotten away from home, but her father had won after all.

She was an Allomancer. Just like him.

----


The final few months of their journey were a deeply troubling time for Eliane. Though she fully recovered from her sickness, her new powers changed her, almost as drastically as they had changed her father.

Tadren was also a Seeker, and though he was always kind and wanted to help her learn how to use bronze, knowing that he had Allomancy made her skin crawl. Though she knew it was irrational, she blamed him for her Snapping. If he’d cured her faster, if he’d kept the illness from getting so bad… perhaps this never would have happened.

They stopped in port about a week after her Snapping, a small shipping town in the Central Dominance. Though she’d avoided taking or burning any bronze on the ship, much to Tadren’s confusion, out in the town she felt an oppressive weight settle upon her. The unknown, the possibility that there were others around her.

You could find out, a piece of her whispered. You could know for certain who’s safe and who’s not in an instant.

Feeling weak and sick, like she’d just lost some important moral battle, she reluctantly sought out a metallurgist and purchased a handful of bronze dust and vials. She hated being what she was, but choosing not to burn metals didn’t make her not a Seeker. It just made her a blind Seeker. Or so she told herself. It felt like an empty justification.

After that, she kept her bronze going at almost all times, trying to learn from Tadren what she could before she needed to leave. He was heartened by the change, glad she’d come around to the idea of it. He didn’t seem to notice the way her smiles were forced when she talked to him, the way she slightly squirmed if they accidentally touched.

The sound of bronze pulses became familiar to her, and she practiced locating where Tadren was on the ship without being able to see him. He too kept his bronze on almost constantly, out of habit, he said. Eventually, he assured her, she’d forget it was even there.

She highly doubted that.


----


Luthadel sprawled across the landscape like a cat stretching after a nap. It was breathtaking in its enormity, like no other city they’d passed through thus far. Of course, Luthadel was like no other city in the world.

The vast chaos of possibility excited her, and Eliane breathed deeply as they ambled through the canal. Luthadel didn’t have a particularly pleasant smell, of course. Soot and smog and industry had left their marks upon its atmosphere. The waters below had the thick scent of wet ash and humanity rising from them. No, it wasn’t pleasant, but it was alive.

The captain asked if she knew anyone in Luthadel or had family she could go to. She could see the grand keeps rising over the tenements. Casuana would have one of those. Her cousins might have taken her in if she’d asked. But she told the captain that she knew no one and would find her own way.

Hoping to start anew, she changed her name: Lea Quitose.

She bartered with the one last time in their currency of choice: favors. One managed to put her in touch with a friend, who knew a friend, who knew a friend, and on down the line until someone put her in touch with a nobleman, Cassan Renault who ran several taverns on the northern side of the city. Eliane picked up a position serving drinks at the Wraith’s Whisper in the Silver Quarter in the evenings, as a way to make a little money.

Her real trade, however, was using the things Berren had taught her: finding and selling secrets. As a newcomer in a city where she knew no one, picking up as a streetear took an investment of time, but she was in no rush. She met people, fostered relationships, established contacts, learned the streets, and earned credibility. After a few years of careful work, she had a network to call her own. It wasn't widespread or all-encompassing, but it was respectable.

Her first major personal project targeted the manager of her bar, actually. He wasn't a particularly likeable individual and with a little dedicated research, Eliane found more than enough dirt on him to suit her purposes. It was almost too easy: he was under-reporting profits, skimming off the top. She took her findings to the top, arranging a meeting with Lord Renault to tell him what was happening.

It was a victory on all fronts. Renault was impressed with her skills, and she was able to gently imply that she could possibly help him with other information needs in the future. He also ousted the old bar manager, and with a bit of convincing, agreed to let Eliane try her hand at running things over there. She was twenty years old at the time.

Occasionally, she'd wander past the stoic and proud Keep Casuana, remembering her past and an old name she never used anymore. Every now and then she would think of telling someone who she really was, but something always stopped her. They seemed to be doing just fine without her. She still had some small amount of House loyalty in her, though, and was picky about who she bought and sold to among the upper crust, favoring Casuana and its allies. She even became friends with a few of them, trusting that no one would recognize a little girl from the outer houses now that she was all grown up.

The same could not be said for the Ministry alas. With as constantly as she burned bronze, it was inevitable that she ran afoul of an Inquisition Seeker. A false name wouldn't work against the careful genealogies of the Canton, especially when they were cataloging an Allomancer, and so, they knew who she really was.

The obligator who came to “visit” didn't seem too interested in why she was living under a false name in Luthadel, but made it clear that the Ministry's convenient disinterest came with strings. If she wanted to keep questions about her identity from cropping up, it was in her best interest to let them know if any “persons of interest” she might stumble across.

She hated the idea of blackmail being held over her head, especially with the Canton of Inquisition. She avoided even going near Kredik Shaw, frightened by the way the Lord Ruler’s power felt so similar to her father, albeit on a far grander scale. Still, there were worse things than having to report to the Ministry every now and then. Mostly, she tipped them off to skaa Mistings, and she never had a problem with getting Allomancers taken off the streets.

In the three years since her little takeover, Eliane has turned the Wraith's Whisper into both a homebase and a home. She meets with contacts under the guise of a friendly chat across the bar. Patrons in the know have learned how to order information with a shot of whiskey. Several of her servers are in on the trade as well, and the extra eyes and ears never hurt.

It's quite amazing, the way a little drink will loosen tongues and shake free secrets.

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There was an unfortunate aspect of Eliane’s work that necessitated working with skaa at points. An informant couldn’t be choosy about her sources, and the simple fact of the matter was, skaa knew the streets. If one wanted to learn what rumbled in the bolt holes and hidden lairs of Luthadel’s underground, the skaa were the ones to talk to.

She just wished this particular skaa hadn’t chosen to be so blightedly difficult about it.

"Look,” Saudet said, crossing his twig-thin arms, “I don’t care what I said, I ain’t gonna do it. I’m a part of something now, and there’s no way I’m gonna screw that up for some self-important snitch.”

Eliane blinked at him through a flat look, unable to believe what she was hearing. Actually, no, she could believe it. She should have known something like this would happen. Saudet was an individual who was easily led, and easily manipulated.

She’d felt bad for the kid, an urchin who’d skirted the shadows around her neighborhood long enough for her to start recognizing his face. He was probably barely a teenager, but his skinny frame made him look years younger. She’d thought she could help him, give him a few tips to help him get picked up by a local underground crew, the Sixths. She’d help him get some support and, as she’d made it blatantly clear to him when they’d made this arrangement, he was supposed to keep her informed on any major plans the Sixths decided to set in motion.

If she was being honest, Saudet’s easy manipulability was part of the reason why she’d set him up like this in the first place. She had to admit, the signs were all there that an eventuality like this would come about.

But she hadn’t expected that he’d get indoctrinated.

"Saudet,” she said stiffly. “You want to think about rephrasing that statement before things get… uncivil?”

He snorted, spitting to the side. “I ain’t rephrasin’ nothing. I meant what I said, snitch.” His tone made it clear that if she wanted to catch his true meaning, she ought to imagine that last word with a different first sound.

She had no intention of letting some skaa almost a decade younger than her, who owed her pretty much everything he had right now, give her this kind of lip. This was the crew talking, their influence bleeding through. She really hadn’t thought it would take hold of him after only a month. She should have, thinking back on it. The little idiot was so impressionable he’d pick up anything.

“Look,” she said, giving him a look that punched straight through his stupid surface-level tough guy act. “The only reason you’re even that crew in the first place is because I helped you get there. I’m the one who told you how to catch their eye and what pretty little things you needed to tell them in order to get in. I did not do that out of the kindness of my heart, Saud. I did that because we had an arrangement that if I got you in, you would get me intel.”

“Yeah, but that was before. This is now,” he said, a dumb grin plastered across his face. “I’m already in. I don’t need you anymore, woman. I’ve got a new group, thanks to you, and I like them better. I’m one of the Sixths now and Sixths don’t sell each other out. Yeah, I’m grateful for your help, but like hell am I gonna follow through! You just got played.”

She needed a source inside the Sixths and she was not about to let some half-wit flake out on her because he’d gotten sucked into their cult mentality.

So, fine. If he wanted to act like a gang thug, she’d treat him like a gang thug.

Her dagger—glass, of course, just in case—flashed in her hand as she pushed him back against the tenement bricks and raised it to his throat. He cried out in surprise, at first starting to fight back against her until his struggling caused him to nick himself against the blade. Then he got very still, glaring at her. He seemed to be annoyed by the fact that she’d pinned him so easily.

“Look,” she all but spat, “I don’t care if you think you’ve found your true place in life as a low-tier crew lackey. I don’t give a rusted nail if you’re all one big, happy, crime-committing family. We had a deal, Saudet. You want to try to double cross me, and all of a sudden you’re not useful anymore. If you’re not useful, then I don’t have any reason to be nice to you anymore.”

She forced a smile onto her face, a deeply unfriendly one. "How do you think your crew leader would react if I told him you were a seed planted by an informant? And not only that, but one who reneged on deals at the drop of a hat? Like you said, the Sixths are a tight-knit group, so I have a feeling he’d thank me for exposing such a suspicious and unsavory member before you were able to do any damage to them. Maybe I’ll throw in a little street knowledge about their rivals as a sign of my goodwill. I could make a new contact, have a new customer to sell to, and take out a good-for-nothing, backstabbing little traitor. Win-win for me.”

He glared at her for a few moments, staying silent. So she pushed the knife up a little closer. He sputtered slightly, an ungraceful sort of sound that was decidedly satisfying.

“Okay, okay! Lord Ruler, Lea, let me down!”

She rolled her eyes, but stepped back, putting her dagger away. “You’ve got until the end of the week to get me some useful details. Who are they working with, what are their plans, how do they get funding, that sort of thing. Just like we talked about.”

He rubbed his neck, glaring at her in a way that made him look even more like a petulant child. Or a puppy that had just had its nose thumped for chewing the carpet. “I wasn’t bein’ serious, you know. Just messin’ with you, that’s all.”

She sighed. “Yeah, we’ll pretend for the sake of our professional relationship and my good humor that that’s true. Look, if it makes you feel better, I’ve got nothing against the Sixths, alright? I’m not trying to sell them out or anything. Just need to keep up with what’s happening around here, alright? Stay informed.”

That was all anyone could ever do in this city to stay alive and stay ahead, wasn’t it?

Edited by FeatherWriter, 10 July 2017 - 10:16 PM.


#2 Comatose


  • Shard of Brain Inactivity

356
Looking Good in Red

Posted 06 July 2017 - 03:27 AM

Now that I've wrapped my head around her skill level with bronze, she Approved by my vote. I suspect that the second required approval won't be far behind ;).

Welcome to the RP finally!!!!

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#3 Chaos

112
Aaron Elariel's Math Skills

Posted 13 July 2017 - 06:22 PM

Great work, can't wait to play with her. Approved!






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