Navyri
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Some are born to sweet delight...
24th of Vhalar, 717
Screams of agony tore across the open water, as Navyri pounced upon the merchant, digging her claws into the man’s biceps. He struggled against the restraints holding him, grunting as she drew blood, “Tell me what you know,” her voice was cold, and she leaned in close, her blue eyes glowing in the moonlight, “Or I slaughter your little girl.”
She saw the fear in his eyes, wavering his resolve as his lips parted in desperation. His words were dry, “You wouldn’t.” This woman didn’t know him. He didn’t know where his family lived. She was bluffing.
Navyri closed her eyes and took a deep breath, shaking her head in disapproval. When she opened them, she began to smile, “She’s waiting by the window for you as we speak,” the Naer cocked her head, images flashing through her mind, her voice changing, “Lovely blonde hair. Brown eyes. A blue dress. ‘Mommy, when is daddy coming home from the markets?’”
The man’s face ran white, his mustache quivering in horror, “How do you know that?”
Navyri was watching the visions, seeing a woman come up from behind the child and try to coax her towards the table. Very soon, Lila. I’m sure he’s just running late. Maybe he’s picking up a dessert for dinner? Wouldn’t you like that very much?
“Aren’t you worried about Lila, Fenris?”
At the sound of his daughter’s name, the man jerked, trying to thrash against her grip, and Navyri jumped back, unhooking the whip at her belt and hissed, “Tell me who has the raven.”
Fear quickly began to contort into rage, as he kicked and spittle flew from his mouth, “Die, you mutant bitch! You lay one finger on my family and I’ll have Etzos gut you alive!”
“Wrong answer.”
Navyri wrapped her fingers around the supple leather handle and reared back, unleashing a sickening crack as the whip cut into the man’s face. White flesh split open and curled back, revealing the red layer underneath, speckles of blood dotting her deck, as the woman paced around the figure. Her boots clicked against the floorboards and she tsked, “I’m running out of patience, merchant. You said earlier you heard a man talking about its value. I need answers.”
Fenris was writhing in agony, whimpering as his hands were unable to cradle his bleeding cheek. Another hit like that, and he wouldn’t have one. From his insult, Navyri had half a mind to bend over and rip it off herself.
“I don’t know whoooo” he wailed, tears now running down his bloodied face, his hair sticking to the wound, “I swear by the coin. I don’t know. Just… Just…” he swallowed, shuddering when Navyri stopped moving, “Just a man. He-He”
Fenris was stalling. Thinking of a lie? Navyri frowned and lifted the whip again, its length hanging to the ground like a bloodied snake eager to bite again.
“He had red hair! Mentioned some guy named Quintus Mallor! They call him Sisk, probably lives on the east side of town...” Fenris tried to roll over, but Navyri lifted a heel and dug it into the soft flesh of his shoulder, pinning him in place like a bug beneath her feet.
Her eyes narrowed dangerously, “You were saying?”
“I-I don’t know. Apparently Sisk was bragging about the raven. Said it was priceless, but the other guy thought it was bad luck. Something happened to the seller. He just-”
Navyri nodded grimly, “Disappeared.” Sounded like Delroth, alright. It was likely the Immortal had whisked the seller up for a proper punishment - maybe showed him one of his pets, maybe he had been taken to the tunnel of wind and talons, maybe he had been left for dead in the Misty Miasma. But all of these things had happened to her, and not for earning Delroth’s ire. No… Whatever Delroth had planned must have been far worse.
“What do you think happened?”
It was clear that Fenris hadn’t expected this question, and floundered for the right answer, “Uuuh, I mean…” he paused to spit out blood that had begun to pool in his mouth, “Could’ve gone out of town or-”
“You’re right,” she started to rewrap the whip, their interview coming to a close. After all, the Naer needed a name, and now she had one. Navyri tied it to her waist and saw the look of relief pass over the man’s face. Her hands dipped into his pockets, roughly feeling around and pulling free a small pocketbook and a stubby pencil. In his other was a few coins, and a rolled cigarette. Not much. A wedding ring rested on his finger which she pulled off against his will, and once satisfied with her scavenging, Navyri pulled him to his feet and spun him around as if she would lead him. Then she unsheathed the dagger, the hiss fading away across the dark waters, “Merchants disappear all the time.”
The dark haired woman plunged the dagger into Fenris back, leaning back to avoid his head that came rearing as he screamed to the skies in agony. She stabbed him again and again, the bones in his shoulderblades preventing her from going deeper, sending a harsh vibration up the blade and into her arm. Gritting her teeth, Navyri yanked the weapon free, this time cutting him into the side of the neck and waist. Blood was pooling down his clothes and dripped onto her deck. More to clean. When she was satisfied with her damage, Navyri shoved him forward and gave a kick, sending the body overboard. He would either die from drowning, or the ocean beasts would smell his blood and come. The Naer wasn’t partial either way, as long as he died. With no other boats as far as the eye could see, and land only a distant dream away tonight, she felt satisfied with the odds.
It was when she looked down that Navyri sighed softly, looking at the mess she would have to handle. Puddles of blood would seep into her floorboards if she didn’t start soon, and she leaned against the boat’s railing, watching as the thrashing stopped and the bubbles ceased.
“Poor Lila,” Navyri muttered, hints of sarcasm playing on her voice as she went to retrieve an old bucket from beneath deck and a couple rags. There were those that were lucky, and those that were not, but the Naer fluctuated on those ends. Continually being put in life threatening situations and then surviving by the skin of her teeth… well, sometimes you had to make your own luck, and that’s exactly what she was doing.
Even as Fenris sunk to the ocean depths below, Navyri did not feel guilt, not quite. Perhaps a bit of melancholy, the emotion sour instead of sad. It was strange and hard to recognize, and she dipped the bucket into the water and threw it upon the boards. Red water swirled and diluted the mess, and she grabbed the items she had stolen before they were ruined, setting them atop a barrel and getting to work. It would be a long night, perhaps she would see the seagulls come with the sunrise, and used that as a motivator.
Scrubbing the deck was never fun, but it was better at night than in grueling heat. Around her the sky twinkled, reflecting off the dark water, making it feel as though she were floating among the stars. So beautiful, and yet it somehow upset her, the soft breeze blowing through her hair. Too familiar, she realized, knowing this was once one of her favorite settings; ruined by circumstance.
Memories best left unthought of began to resurface, clouding her mind as she scrubbed the deck, scraping at the wood until her knuckles turned white. Blood. Murder. Was this all she was meant for? Navyri obsessed over the cleanliness around her, no red left untouched by the rag in her grasp. Meanwhile, she pushed the lingering fragments of her history aside, and focused on the task at hand. There was no time for weakness. For a moment, she felt a small pull at her heart and the possibility of hot tears, but her mother’s voice played in her mind like an eternally offended, broken record, ’Are you crying?’
’No, Mother. Never.’
The feeling stopped.
In each crevice she obsessed, her night vision aiding her in the task. When she finally finished, her fingers ached and it seemed all traces were gone. Her own clothes would need to be washed, but most of the blood had touched her boots and bare skin, both of which could be scrubbed at in the time to come.
For now, Navyri discarded the rags, stained past salvation, into the ocean and proceeded to hoist the anchor. Shifting the sail, she spun the boat around, allowing the nighttime wind to push her vessel back in the direction of land. Afterall, it was where her next victim was hiding and the new hunt had begun.
Poor Sisk.
Screams of agony tore across the open water, as Navyri pounced upon the merchant, digging her claws into the man’s biceps. He struggled against the restraints holding him, grunting as she drew blood, “Tell me what you know,” her voice was cold, and she leaned in close, her blue eyes glowing in the moonlight, “Or I slaughter your little girl.”
She saw the fear in his eyes, wavering his resolve as his lips parted in desperation. His words were dry, “You wouldn’t.” This woman didn’t know him. He didn’t know where his family lived. She was bluffing.
Navyri closed her eyes and took a deep breath, shaking her head in disapproval. When she opened them, she began to smile, “She’s waiting by the window for you as we speak,” the Naer cocked her head, images flashing through her mind, her voice changing, “Lovely blonde hair. Brown eyes. A blue dress. ‘Mommy, when is daddy coming home from the markets?’”
The man’s face ran white, his mustache quivering in horror, “How do you know that?”
Navyri was watching the visions, seeing a woman come up from behind the child and try to coax her towards the table. Very soon, Lila. I’m sure he’s just running late. Maybe he’s picking up a dessert for dinner? Wouldn’t you like that very much?
“Aren’t you worried about Lila, Fenris?”
At the sound of his daughter’s name, the man jerked, trying to thrash against her grip, and Navyri jumped back, unhooking the whip at her belt and hissed, “Tell me who has the raven.”
Fear quickly began to contort into rage, as he kicked and spittle flew from his mouth, “Die, you mutant bitch! You lay one finger on my family and I’ll have Etzos gut you alive!”
“Wrong answer.”
Navyri wrapped her fingers around the supple leather handle and reared back, unleashing a sickening crack as the whip cut into the man’s face. White flesh split open and curled back, revealing the red layer underneath, speckles of blood dotting her deck, as the woman paced around the figure. Her boots clicked against the floorboards and she tsked, “I’m running out of patience, merchant. You said earlier you heard a man talking about its value. I need answers.”
Fenris was writhing in agony, whimpering as his hands were unable to cradle his bleeding cheek. Another hit like that, and he wouldn’t have one. From his insult, Navyri had half a mind to bend over and rip it off herself.
“I don’t know whoooo” he wailed, tears now running down his bloodied face, his hair sticking to the wound, “I swear by the coin. I don’t know. Just… Just…” he swallowed, shuddering when Navyri stopped moving, “Just a man. He-He”
Fenris was stalling. Thinking of a lie? Navyri frowned and lifted the whip again, its length hanging to the ground like a bloodied snake eager to bite again.
“He had red hair! Mentioned some guy named Quintus Mallor! They call him Sisk, probably lives on the east side of town...” Fenris tried to roll over, but Navyri lifted a heel and dug it into the soft flesh of his shoulder, pinning him in place like a bug beneath her feet.
Her eyes narrowed dangerously, “You were saying?”
“I-I don’t know. Apparently Sisk was bragging about the raven. Said it was priceless, but the other guy thought it was bad luck. Something happened to the seller. He just-”
Navyri nodded grimly, “Disappeared.” Sounded like Delroth, alright. It was likely the Immortal had whisked the seller up for a proper punishment - maybe showed him one of his pets, maybe he had been taken to the tunnel of wind and talons, maybe he had been left for dead in the Misty Miasma. But all of these things had happened to her, and not for earning Delroth’s ire. No… Whatever Delroth had planned must have been far worse.
“What do you think happened?”
It was clear that Fenris hadn’t expected this question, and floundered for the right answer, “Uuuh, I mean…” he paused to spit out blood that had begun to pool in his mouth, “Could’ve gone out of town or-”
“You’re right,” she started to rewrap the whip, their interview coming to a close. After all, the Naer needed a name, and now she had one. Navyri tied it to her waist and saw the look of relief pass over the man’s face. Her hands dipped into his pockets, roughly feeling around and pulling free a small pocketbook and a stubby pencil. In his other was a few coins, and a rolled cigarette. Not much. A wedding ring rested on his finger which she pulled off against his will, and once satisfied with her scavenging, Navyri pulled him to his feet and spun him around as if she would lead him. Then she unsheathed the dagger, the hiss fading away across the dark waters, “Merchants disappear all the time.”
The dark haired woman plunged the dagger into Fenris back, leaning back to avoid his head that came rearing as he screamed to the skies in agony. She stabbed him again and again, the bones in his shoulderblades preventing her from going deeper, sending a harsh vibration up the blade and into her arm. Gritting her teeth, Navyri yanked the weapon free, this time cutting him into the side of the neck and waist. Blood was pooling down his clothes and dripped onto her deck. More to clean. When she was satisfied with her damage, Navyri shoved him forward and gave a kick, sending the body overboard. He would either die from drowning, or the ocean beasts would smell his blood and come. The Naer wasn’t partial either way, as long as he died. With no other boats as far as the eye could see, and land only a distant dream away tonight, she felt satisfied with the odds.
It was when she looked down that Navyri sighed softly, looking at the mess she would have to handle. Puddles of blood would seep into her floorboards if she didn’t start soon, and she leaned against the boat’s railing, watching as the thrashing stopped and the bubbles ceased.
“Poor Lila,” Navyri muttered, hints of sarcasm playing on her voice as she went to retrieve an old bucket from beneath deck and a couple rags. There were those that were lucky, and those that were not, but the Naer fluctuated on those ends. Continually being put in life threatening situations and then surviving by the skin of her teeth… well, sometimes you had to make your own luck, and that’s exactly what she was doing.
Even as Fenris sunk to the ocean depths below, Navyri did not feel guilt, not quite. Perhaps a bit of melancholy, the emotion sour instead of sad. It was strange and hard to recognize, and she dipped the bucket into the water and threw it upon the boards. Red water swirled and diluted the mess, and she grabbed the items she had stolen before they were ruined, setting them atop a barrel and getting to work. It would be a long night, perhaps she would see the seagulls come with the sunrise, and used that as a motivator.
Scrubbing the deck was never fun, but it was better at night than in grueling heat. Around her the sky twinkled, reflecting off the dark water, making it feel as though she were floating among the stars. So beautiful, and yet it somehow upset her, the soft breeze blowing through her hair. Too familiar, she realized, knowing this was once one of her favorite settings; ruined by circumstance.
Memories best left unthought of began to resurface, clouding her mind as she scrubbed the deck, scraping at the wood until her knuckles turned white. Blood. Murder. Was this all she was meant for? Navyri obsessed over the cleanliness around her, no red left untouched by the rag in her grasp. Meanwhile, she pushed the lingering fragments of her history aside, and focused on the task at hand. There was no time for weakness. For a moment, she felt a small pull at her heart and the possibility of hot tears, but her mother’s voice played in her mind like an eternally offended, broken record, ’Are you crying?’
’No, Mother. Never.’
The feeling stopped.
In each crevice she obsessed, her night vision aiding her in the task. When she finally finished, her fingers ached and it seemed all traces were gone. Her own clothes would need to be washed, but most of the blood had touched her boots and bare skin, both of which could be scrubbed at in the time to come.
For now, Navyri discarded the rags, stained past salvation, into the ocean and proceeded to hoist the anchor. Shifting the sail, she spun the boat around, allowing the nighttime wind to push her vessel back in the direction of land. Afterall, it was where her next victim was hiding and the new hunt had begun.
Poor Sisk.
...Some are born toendless night.
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