[h1][color=mediumvioletred]Illya Vance[/color][/h1]

The mist rolled over the forest floor, mottled shades of grey and green, heavy and dense though the young woman sat in a tree above the deep grey fog that terrified the village she couldn’t see. Earlier that night Illya had left for the manse not far from the village where a young lord was staying and having sent for her though it wasn’t for what she had been expecting. He’d wanted sex, which she wasn’t opposed to giving, but not a death for his gold. He’d seen her and asked if she would go to the capital with him and her response, as it always was with men, was a laugh and snide remark. She had been there and won, learned and killed what could easily have mounted to thousands of innocents and guilty alike without as much as batting an eye. It wasn’t what she’d expected; the young lord was stronger than he looked and it was the early reaches of dawn that she had been able to leave, having snuck out while he was sleeping with his gold in her pocket and a note on his bedside table. He really would have to try harder if he wanted her all to himself. 

After an hour or so of walking she had come closer to the village, dressed not in her armor but a black and violet silk and velvet dress that she had been gifted a year before, since it had been a meeting and not a mission tonight though it didn’t last long as she saw the fog beginning to roll in and knew the tales the villagers told about the green mist. She climbed above the bank in one of the many trees of the Angar, leafy and easily hiding the small rogue from sight while she crouched in one of the many branches. Too bad it ruined the hem of her dress and scratched up her bare legs and arms; the outfit wasn’t exactly appropriate for the townsfolk though her clientele seemed to like it. 

The fog rolled in below her and rolled out just the same without her having seen a single thing inside it though she heard the sound of a carriage and a muffled cry though it could easily have been anyone from the village. Little did she know it was poor little Alixianna that they had been kidnapping while the young woman crouched in the bows of the tree branches. When the fog finally rolled away and burned off in the morning light, Illya dropped down onto the dry leaves and twigs to find a pair of carriage tracks driving away from her though, unlike most other people in the town, she did not follow them – she was being paid. With a huff she stepped away from the tree and headed off toward her home again though, like the day before, there was someone waiting for her. This time though, it was a friendly face instead of one who continued to try to sleep with her. 

[color=mediumvioletred]“Laciel? What are you doing at my house?” [/color]

Illya stood not too far from where he was walking, her arms crossed beneath her chest and an eyebrow raised in question as she looked at the blacksmith’s son. He was taller than her normally, even though he was relatively small for a male around here but given the greatsword on his back and her experience with him she knew that he was stronger than he looked. It was strange because he may have been one of the few boys she’d met that didn’t try to seduce her or buy her; instead he cared enough to try to sway her from her current path of life even though it was all she cared enough to know. The hem of her dress was torn and hung around her knees, swishing lightly as her hips slipped to the side teasingly while her pale arms were cut in a few places though there was one nasty gash on her left calf that she hadn’t bothered to try to cover up at all. 

[@Savo]