[center][hr][hr][h1][color=black]C[/color][color=darkgray]hapte[/color][color=black]r [/color][color=a60000]4[/color][/h1]

[i]"Somewhere beyond where angels fear to tread, sinners look back and weep for their misdeeds."[/i][hr][hr]


[i][b]"Leave. It." [/b][/i][/center]

[color=cccccc]Her stony words were sharper than diamonds and the steely determination in her gaze could perhaps have summoned demons. It was frankly remarkable how Violet had managed to stay laser focused on her informant, as if a great wall stood between them and the bar descending into chaos around them. Nevertheless, the hollow phrase she spat between gritted teeth and the whitened knuckles curled into fists spoke worlds of how much of her willpower it was taking to do so. She could simply not afford for the idiot to die. 

[center][img]https://i.gyazo.com/eb5700c2b17cd1d5b77a48efefc3575b.png[/img][/center]

“Focus.” she hissed again as his gaze wandered over to the fighting around them, his eyes glistening with incompetent hubris. Violet’s stomach dropped to her feet as the near lifeless form of some charlatan was thrown in between them, the candle spluttering out from the impact, wax splattered across the wall. A stillness hung in the air for but a moment as the spy considered his options.

[center][img]https://i.gyazo.com/4df19cf1b513fc8176d2860741753245.png[/img][/center]

That smug face of his broke apart into a sickening grin, and suddenly he was on his feet and charging into the fray. Violet squeezed her eyes shut in exasperation for the smallest of moments, wondering why the hell he had demanded she remain unperturbed and peaceful this whole time when he planned to pull a stunt like this. 

Her hands slammed down on the table as she pushed her chair back with an audible screech of wood against wood. One swift turn and she was there, the stage was set, the curtains drawn, the show was about to begin...

[center][img]https://i.gyazo.com/65a54afc77e5a8fc15f49537cea1d7e2.png[/img][/center]

The tavern was the definition of calamity, shards of glass underfoot, body and blood and viscera staining the woodwork, the screeches of agony and bellows of anger a haunting refrain. The perfect play began, one marionette of a spy charging barely four steps to center stage. The promptness of his death led angels to catch their breath as demons rightfully laid claim to his soul, for he was not a good man, and they had built a harbor for him in hell long ago.

A body that slumped to the floor, strings in a tangle, heart in a bind, secrets still dancing on his dead tongue. The wicked dagger sliced through his windpipe, soared through the air, a ghost of a whistle of a shadow, trickling dots of crimson along Violet’s cheek like the gentle caress of a lover. Her eyes were wide, her mouth agape, and the space between her and his murderer was a frozen wasteland of silence.

[right]𝓣𝓱𝓸𝓼𝓮 𝓮𝔂𝓮𝓼.[/right]

Wrapped in a single look, crystallised in a single moment, stories tumbled tumultuous through unbroken waves of blue, conjuring up the depths of the deep ocean, whispering cryptic clues of a life both young and ancient. She was drowning in it.

[right]𝓣𝓱𝓸𝓼𝓮. 𝓔𝔂𝓮𝓼.[/right]

This was more than a mystery, it was danger written pure and simple, bathed in a blue cloak and huddled hardly hidden in plain sight. And yet, still reeling in the electric arc that jumped unnoticed between two strangers in a stranger place, reality hit Violet as that timeless space they occupied splintered, fractured, and finally shattered.

[right][color=black][sup][b]T H O S E.  E Y E S.  K I L L E D.  M Y.  L E A D.[/b][/sup][/color][/right]

Perhaps later she would think back and be shaken by that strange bolt out the literal blue, something sinisterly unknown masquerading as innocent eye contact, but in the immediate moment Violet was drenched in ice cold anger. The kind of anger that has already burned it’s brightest, consumed itself within the flesh of hatred and left behind the corpse of the only action left to take.

Murder. [/color]

[color=black][b]She was going to kill him.[/b][/color]