• Completed • Breaking and Taking

[Quio]

21st of Ashan, Arc 717
just after noon

Quio was in the house. He had the rope looped over his shoulder. Carefully, he took two thirds of it, pre-cut, and piled the sections quietly in the kitchen on the table.

A chair he dragged out to the center of the floor, away from everything else. He then doused the chair and the wooden floor around it with one tin's worth of lantern oil, spreading the flammable liquid around as far as it would go.

Next he found a vase and kitchen rag. The rag he used to mop up a bit of the oil, which he spread around the inside of the vase. The vase he set on the table. Then he took out a torch and his tinderbox, and with shaking hands he lit the torch.

Light sprang up at his fingers, and he quivered for a moment in place, too terrified of himself to do anything more. The last length of rope, a little more than 15 ft in length, was still looped over one shoulder. Ready.

Not ready.

Quio took a deep breath and walked back to the door, checking the windows on the way to make sure they were closed. They were; it was still cold out. The Yludih eased open the door and stood there. For a moment he stared out. This was his last chance. He could still leave.

Then abruptly he slammed the door, loud. He made his way quickly and quietly to the jucture of the house where the bedrooms and bath met the kitchen and living space.

From the bedrooms, he heard a man's sleepy voice call out, "Honey, that you?"

Quio didn't say anything. He drew his dagger from his belt and waited, pressed to the wall, the lit torch in his other hand.

A few trills passed. He heard the movement of something squeaking-- a bedframe maybe, or a wooden floor. Footsteps, almost indistinguishable from the silence around them. Someone yawned, and then the man --Quio's mark-- came into view, stumbling through the doorway to the rest of the house.

The man stopped, seeing the chair pulled out into the middle of the kitchen and maybe the ropes and things on the table, and then Quio shoved him from behind, hard, and the man stumbled forward, nearly slipping on the lantern oil that covered the ground.

By the time he turned Quio was close, dagger up and ready to strike. The burning torch was obvious in his other hand. The Yludih brandished both the knife and torch and said in a soft voice, "Scream and your house goes up in flames. I've spread oil across the ground." He saw the man's eyes flit down to the small puddles of liquid that were soaking into his socks. "Make a move," Quio said, "And I will cut you. Do as I say and you will not be hurt. Understand?" The man stared at him. "Say 'yes' if you understand," Quio said, taking a step closer. He prayed the other understood Rakahi.

A long pause, and then the man said, angrily, "Yes."

"If you have any weapons on you, throw them away," Quio said. The man raised his hands and turned in a slow circle. It was obvious there was nothing on him. He had been sleeping. He was in bedclothes.

"Sit," Quio ordered, and his captive looked around, then tried to go for one of the chairs still at the table. "Not there," Quio said, "There." And pointed to the chair he'd pulled to the middle of the room. The one wet with oil.

The man grimaced but did as he was told. "Stay," Quio said. He kept the dagger in hand but placed the torch, lit side down, in the vase on the kitchen table. As he'd hoped, the vase, empty of water and coated in flammable oil, didn't put the torch out. It sat there, flickering, ready for use. Then he turned to the man.

The guy looked like he wanted to try something now that the torch was out of Quio's hand, but the Yludih beat him to it. "Anything, and you bleed," he said as sincerely as he could without sounding like he was posturing. He kept the dagger close to the man.

After a few tense moments, the stiffness went out of the captive's shoulders and legs, and Quio knew that for now he was going to sit and be still.

"Sorry," Quio muttered, and put the jute sack which he'd bought at the marketplace over the man's head. The other tensed again, immediately, and the dagger was at his throat.

"I've killed before," Quio told him, and maybe the tremor in his voice helped rather than hurt. It betrayed that what he was saying was true. The man, breathing heavy, sat back on the chair and held still.

Quio breathed out himself, slid the dagger away from the man's neck and back into his scabbard, and quickly tied the other's hands behind him to the chair, using his ship-based knowledge of ropes and knots.

When he was tied as securely as Quio could manage, the Yludih went quickly to the main bedroom and dug through the things there until he found a set of the man's clothes. He undressed and put them on, tucking his own clothes into his rucksack, then went back out to the kitchen.

The man was still sitting in the middle of the kitchen tied to the chair, apparently patient or too scared to make a move. Quio ripped the sack cloth from his head.

"Now," the Yludih said, making sure the man was looking at him. "Tell me everything I need to know about your job at the Fighting Pits."

"Speaking in Rakahi"
"Speaking in Common"
"Speaking in Ulehi"

[Quio]

A break later and they had drilled through as much information as either of them could handle. With time the man seemed to give more and more detail, and seemed less and less angry at Quio for threatening his life and house. Maybe he hid his feelings well --certainly he should have been afraid, as afraid as Quio himself felt-- or maybe the man had gotten as used to his captivity as he was able.

Quio, on the other hand, had to remind himself again and again to keep busy and stay on target.

The information he gathered was simple. Stuff the man did at work, and for how long, and at what times. When his breaks were. What was expected of him. Where the keys to the cells were kept. And the people he worked with. Those last few bits of information Quio lingered on, demanding descriptions of locations and names and faces. The man didn't have too many coworkers. He was pals with about four or five of them, a group that tended to work together. They mainly worked around the slaves and the money.

"Do you talk to each other a lot, while you're working?" Quio asked, and the man, whose name was Earnest Freeman, shrugged. "Have you been lying to me, Earnest?" Quio asked suddenly, and the dagger was in his hand. The man tried not to flinch but couldn't help it.

"No," he insisted. His muscles tensed but the ropes held.

"Because a lot of the stuff you're saying sounds made up," Quio said. "Even your name."

"I told you," the man said, "I used to be a fighter in the Pits." The sword-shaped brand on his cheek attested to it. "I earned my name. Guys who get along can earn themselves their freedom and maybe even a job working for Finn. I swear."

"Your daughter comes home from school in a little more than two breaks," Quio told him. The man stared at him. "Well?" Quio prompted.

"I'm telling you the truth!" the captive spat, kicking out in anger, and nearly overbalanced himself and the chair.

"Okay, okay," Quio said. He put the dagger away.

"Are you going to let me go?" Earnest demanded. At Quio's expression, "I told you everything!"

"There's still one more thing I need from you," the Yludih said. Earnest glared at him but refused to ask.

"Speaking in Rakahi"
"Speaking in Common"
"Speaking in Ulehi"

[Quio]

There was nothing for it but to do. Feeling awkward, his heartstone fluttering in his chest, the Yludih sat cross-legged on the floor in front of the man. From his rucksack he pulled out a small hand mirror, which he usually used for shaving. Mirror in his grip, he tried to relax.

"What are you doing?" Earnest asked, and Quio murmured out, trying to control his breath, "Do not distract me or make a sound."

"But--"

"Not a sound," Quio stressed, and the man fell sullenly quiet. His eyes never left Quio's face.

Shuddering, the Yludih shut his own eyes, tried to ignore the feeling of being watched, and thought, Clear.

Clear.

Clear.

It was a meditation technique his mother had taught him. Arcs and arcs ago.

Clear.

The technique wasn't exactly about clearing his mind as much as it was about clearing his body. It was his body that needed to change, after all, not his mind. But a clear mind in itself couldn't hurt, either; it would help him let go of the idea that the face he wore now was truer than any other. And yet it had been years since he had last created a new face. More than half a decade.

Clear, he reminded himself, and tried to banish all thought --and doubt-- from his head.

As he sat and breathed and waited, he felt the crystals that made up his body first tighten up, as if thinking about them --feeling them-- made them tense. Then he rolled his shoulders, breathing, thinking of clarity. Imagining his body as clear crystal, growing less and less opaque with each breath. Breathing in, out. In, out. Clear. His arms and shoulders relaxed, and then his stomach, his thighs. All of him. He felt loose. Then even looser. Unreal, almost. Like if he wanted, his spirit might launch completely from his body, straight to Uleuda. Never to be seen again. He breathed.

Unknowable time passed, and he heard something as if far away, a gasp or cry out, but it was nothing. He could feel all the parts of his body now. Not just the limbs and head and torso but the parts that made up those parts, and the even smaller ones that made up those. A million million tiny crystals, so small as to miss the eye entirely, coming together to make larger shapes like so many drops of liquid that make up a sea. He could feel them, each bit of him, and as he felt them he could feel himself growing warmer, warmer, and realized he was feeling even deeper now to the electic heat of his body-- the unimaginably small bits of energy that strung the crystals of his being together, keeping him from falling apart.

From there he was able to manipulate those little bits and strings of energy to turn his shape to his will.

Quio opened his eyes and looked upon Earnest, seeking to steal the other man's image.

What he saw before him was animal fear, the man struggling against his bonds, staring at Quio like the Yludih was a horror, and in a voice that he could barely hear Quio commanded, "Sit still or die." And the man before him stilled, sweating and shaking, quivering like a failing sail. "W-What are you," Earnest whimpered, but otherwise kept quiet and motionless, and that was what Quio needed.

He inspected Earnest's face.

The man was an average-looking guy, slightly more handsome than he could have been. He had a good-shaped chin and jaw, square enough to seem defining, but not so sharp as to contrast with the rest of him. His eyes were slightly wider-set than average but sat well-placed in his face and were thin in shape, though not thin enough to appear distrustful.

The color of his eyes themselves were dark, dark as his hair which was nearly black, a contrast to light skin a shade or two off-color from Quio's own. Earnest seemed to be human, or some mixed blood that was close enough. There were no defining racial traits like the Biqaj eyes and pointed ears.

What he did have was a lot of scars. A small one on his cheek just under his right eye, along with the much larger sword-shaped brand that designated him a freed slave. Another scar above his left eye, marring the left eyebrow just slightly. One partially across his neck, as if his throat had come close to slitting. A myriad across his hands and forearms, criss-crossing, dotting, and speckling.

Altogether Earnest was sort of handsome, but sort of not. Mostly an average-looking guy.

Average was good.

It was not precisely difficult for the Yludih to change himself in the ways that he needed, but not easy, either. It took time and care. Remembering how to shape himself was like looking at a model and reteaching himself to sculpt. That warm buzzing inside him invited his form to shift if only he could remember how.

For a while he felt out the features using nothing but instinct. The eyebrows thinned, the skin shifted tone and texture and scarred and freckled along the way. A small beard growth broke upon his face. He raised his hands and felt his lips, making them slightly plumper, then less so. His nose twitched, adjusting as needed, and his face filled out just a touch, leaving behind the sharp angular jut of crystalline youth.

After he was finished with the big features he fell to finer work. Eye size and eye shape. The dimple of his chin. The lines and slope of his forehead. He tinkered with the cheekbones, trying to make them sit just right under the skin. Then he experimented with the perfect slant of the jaw. The ears were easy enough, they were fairly average ears, rounded and neither large nor small.

These last minor touches the mirror was useful for. He glanced between it and Earnest, it and Earnest. Over and over.

Eventually though, he had to give up. Good enough.

"Close?" he asked his model, and the man's eyes rolled in his head as if trying to find a way out. "Look at me," Quio said. Earnest looked, wincing. "Close?" Quio asked again.

"Y-Yes," the man breathed. And then nearly overturned himself once more when Quio mimicked him, copying his inflection and tone of voice, "Yes."

Just then the door burst open behind them, and a little girl cried out, "Daddy, I'm home!"

"Speaking in Rakahi"
"Speaking in Common"
"Speaking in Ulehi"

[Quio]

In an instant he was broken from his meditation. Sweat popped out on his brow, his stomach clenched, and Quio stood and leapt towards the child, who was standing confused in the doorway.

She must have thought he was going to grab her, though he wasn't. "Da--?" she shrieked, and then skittered away from Quio and towards Earnest, who was still tied to the chair. Small and uncertain, she nervously tucked her hands into the crook of her father's arm.

Carefully, Quio shut the door behind him. The girl and her father watched with twin stares of unease.

"Don't hurt her," Earnest said, right as Quio took a step forward and said to the girl, "I'm not going to hurt you."

They both stared at each other some more. Unconsciously, Quio's hand went to the dagger at his waist.

"I won't hurt her," he said again.

"Aggie, get out of here," her father spat, and Quio was forced to step closer again. Frightened, the child disappeared behind her father's back.

"She can't leave," the Yludih said. "But I won't hurt her. Aggie?" He felt wrong using the little girl's name against her. The girl's eyes peeked out from over her father's shoulder. "Can you go to your room and stay there? You can hide under your bed if you're scared. And after your mom comes home--" here Earnest writhed in the chair, his face rising to anger once more, but like before he didn't have the strength to break free of his bonds, "--a-and your dad and mom and me have a talk, and I leave, you can come out again. Is that okay?"

"Don't talk to her," Earnest snapped, his fear once more forgotten. He turned his head. "Agatha?" The child stood to attention at his tone of voice, her fingers clutching into his shoulder. Earnest's eyes drew back towards Quio. There was a short pause. Then the man breathed out. "Agatha, go to your room. I want you to stay there and shut the door and hide til mommy comes and gets you, okay? Don't come out if it's just me."

"O-Okay, but--"

"Aggie, just go. We're gonna have supper a little late today, okay?"

"Okay," the girl said again, and then slowly at first and then fast like a mouse she darted past Quio. The Yludih didn't make a move towards her, and then she was gone. A room or two down, a door slammed shut.

Silence.

Earnest was the first to speak. "I swear to you--" he said, and Quio waved a hand, cutting him off. Only now did the Yludih's heartstone begin to slow. He wiped a hand across his brow.

"I won't hurt her and I won't have to hurt you if you just let me do what I need to do," he said in a low voice.

"Then just do it and get out," Earnest said, and Quio did. He would have to move fast before the wife came home. At most he figured he had two more breaks.

"Speaking in Rakahi"
"Speaking in Common"
"Speaking in Ulehi"

[Quio]

Quio sat back down, his neck crawling with discomfort or perhaps only with sweat, and tried to once more find a meditative ease. But this time he couldn't focus.

He tried harder.

Clear, he thought, over and again, and finally, though it felt like breaks later, he was back in that warm, tingling state, aware of every part of himself.

Then he put his mind to shifting around his weight.

Earnest was bulkier than Quio, but slightly squatter. That meant that everything considered, they were probably about the same mass. The details weren't as important here as they would be hidden by clothes. He just needed an approximate. He moved a couple lbs here, a couple there, adding diameter to his biceps and neck, then shortening and thickening his legs and trunk. He inspected Earnest's body, making quick adjustments, and stopped when it felt like the clothes he had stolen were resting upon him well. Slowly, he stood.

That trapped animal look had come back to Earnest's eyes, but when Quio asked him, "Does this look like you?" and gestured to himself, the other man swallowed and nodded.

"Please don't hurt my girls," he said. He begged. Quio felt his insides squirming and heat rise to his ears.

"I won't," he promised. Then, grimly, he said, "Now the finishing touches, and we wait for the wife."

---

By the time Earnest's wife came in the door, Quio was as ready as he could ever be on such short notice. He and Earnest had run through vocal exercises, allowing Quio to make a fast approximation of his speaking voice, a bit lower and more nasal than Quio's, though without the Biqaj accent.

He'd also practiced walking in this new form, which wasn't so difficult except to try to nail down Earnest's individual gait.

He finished packing away all he needed packed, and had the rest of the rope ready over his shoulder. Then he crossed to hover next to the door, waiting.

He didn't wait long.

When the handle turned, Earnest yelled out, "Don't!" But it was too late. His wife entered the house, and Quio slammed the door shut behind her.

"Earnest?" she said, affronted, looking at him, and then turned and saw her actual husband tied to the chair in the kitchen, the house reeking of lantern oil. "Oh," she said, and dropped her bag to the ground.

By the time she looked back to Quio, the dagger was out and uncomfortably close to her throat. She looked at him, and then swayed towards him, reaching out, and he drew the weapon back before she could spear herself upon it.

"I'm not your husband," he said in his usual voice, and finally all she'd seen seemed to register, and carefully she took a step back.

"Into the bathroom," Quio ordered, jerking the dagger to point the way, and the woman looked between him and Earnest. All of a sudden the blood had gone from her face. But she seemed in her senses enough to turn and walk, woodenly, past the bedrooms --one door open and one closed-- and into the little bath.

"Hold still," Quio said, and as quickly as he could he sheathed the dagger and took the rope to tie her hands. He tied her to a protrusion on the family's little bathtub, anchoring her there. "Test your binds," he told her, and dutifully she tugged on the ropes. They held.

He turned to go but she spoke. "Agatha?" she asked behind him, breathless, and he turned towards her.

"She's okay," he said. "She's in her room."

"Oh thank the gods," the woman exhaled, and then Quio had exited the bathroom, shutting the door behind him.

"Don't try to break free," he told her, through the door. "I'll be here for a long while." He got another chair from the kitchen and placed it so the back was under the knob of the bathroom door. Hopefully it would be enough to keep her in when she did, inevitably, try to break out. Then he did the same to the child's room.

After, he went out and sat down in the kitchen. And waited. And waited. And waited.

He couldn't leave. Not yet.

Earnest sat across from him, staring at him, and neither of them said anything.

Breaks passed, night fell, and finally it was time. Quio stood. It was now or never. The mother or Earnest or Agatha would eventually break free once he left, and he would have to be done with the rest of his plan before the family contacted the authorities and everyone figured out what what happening.

But he wasn't going to hurt them to keep them quiet. He couldn't.

Instead he opened the front door and made sure it would lock behind him. Then he went back to the kitchen and, in plain sight of Earnest, he put the key on the counter, leaving it there. "Not a sound," Quio said, one last warning, and then he was out of the house, shutting the door quietly behind him.

Somewhere far off a bell tolled one, and Quio put his head down and ran.

"Speaking in Rakahi"
"Speaking in Common"
"Speaking in Ulehi"

[Niv]

Quio

Knowledge:

Acting: making your voice lower and more nasal
Blades(daggers): Using them as a threat
Chemistry: lantern oil encourages the flame
Chemistry: coating a vase in oil keeps it alive
Detection: listening to anothers actions carefully
Detection: getting a feel for Earnest Freeman’s face
Disguise: dress the part
Disguise: sound the part
Discipline: keep busy and stay on target
Intimidation: Scream and I burn your house down
Intimidation: Move and I cut you
Intimidation: you sit where I tell you to sit
Intimidation: Do you want to bleed man? I’ve killed before
Interrogation: be thorough.
Interrogation: if your unsure of the info threaten their child.
Meditation: The clear the body technique
Meditation: Repeated mantra
Meditation: full body relaxation
Meditation: fighting through the stress
Stealth: using the sound of a slammed door to cover your movements
Tactics: Always have a back up plan

Earnest Freeman: The man you threatened
Earnest Freeman: former fighter in the pits
Earnest Freeman: Took his face
Agatha: the daughter of Earnest Freeman

Loot: 

N/A

Injuries: 

N/A

Fame:

- 2 for breaking and entering, -5 for breaking and entering

Magic:

These points can NOT be used for Domain Magic

Devotion:

N/A

Story: 

5/5

Collaboration:

0/5

Structure:

5/5

Notes: I really enjoyed the descriptions you gave from the transformation. Very detailed and well done.

Art credit to Yoshitaka Amano