[h3]Domhnall and Angora[/h3]

	The forestfolk watched idly as the strange woman wandered over to her old garments, muttering to herself and poking at them, eventually picking them up and coming over to spread them out by the fireside, over the pile of backup firewood. Good thinking. In this weather, anything left to dry on the ground would probably only get wetter, even if it recently came [b]from[/b] water. 
	His eyes followed her as she took seat again, but for the time being let the black-eyes do the talking. Currently, most it entailed was an introduction of himelf. 
	Angora listened closely to the... human-ish person. She'd heard tales of those not-quite-human, but never actually met one in the flesh... Her curiosity and excitement at this strange new encounter was nevertheless tempered by her trepidation at these new people's reaction to her. She was lucky, really - she'd admitted to a [i]lot[/i] of criminal activity, and she was especially lucky they were willing to overlook that at the least. Would it stop her? No. Would it grease a few things in Zerul itself to go more smoothly? They wouldn't know ... and what they don't know wouldn't hurt them-
	[i]No.[/i] Angora stopped herself. That line of thinking had already gotten her into trouble with these people. Best not to try her luck.
	When the young black-eyes went to insist Angora left her "life of crime" behind, though (naive as it sounded to Domhnall's ears, befitting the boy's youthful face which betrayed he probably did not even [i]need[/i] to shave to stay as clear-faces as he was)...
	"That's like telling a blacksmith that he can no longer work with metal goods because the noise hurts your ears." Angora shook her head. "Look, I get it. You don't like the idea of travelling with, working with, whatever you want to call it, a criminal. Someone like me. But I can't just drop all of that in a single move - it'd be like... er, I don't know, telling you that you can't use a sword anymore." 
	She sighed and rubbed her eyes, the strain of her previous activities having finally caught up with her - adrenaline really is a hell of a drug, as they say. 
	"I can't promise that. But I can promise to try and abstain from that kind of thing whilst I am in your company. Outside of that ... well, let's just say your private life is yours, and mine is mine. Besides, sometimes a bit of blutgild in the right hands can go a long way in keeping ... other people out of trouble."
	She sighed and poked at her clothes again. Not exactly dry, but they weren't sodden as before. "Oh, hurry up already. I'm bloody freezing here... Almost wish the spirit was back - I didn't feel the cold then."
	[i]She didn't feel cold then? But it was [b]this[/b] close to the ground being frosted over...[/i] Domhnall's free hand (the one which was not placed on Iridiel's shoulder) went to absently scratch his bearded cheek again. On one hand, crime was wont to get one in trouble sooner or later ... on the other, there probably were old acquaintances who already [i]were[/i] trouble... 
	"..." Angora looked at the green-and-brown man. His speech was very... shall we say, interesting. "What kind of people were in the convoy? Well... err..." Angora sighed. "They were penin... small, stocky folk, almost like angry dwarfs. But a lot of my work had already been done by the time I got there... I think. I don't remember much to be honest, leastways not immediately before I took hold of the sword. Though a lot of them were fighting each other before I arrived, that much I do remember. Almost like the sword was turning them against each other. Probably our old friend the spirit's doing." Angora giggled and looked at the Black Sword. "Yes, I'm talking to you." 
	Almost in response - or perhaps very much in response - the sword began to glow, intricately inscribed runes previously unseen on the surface now visible to the naked eye. Angora gaped - she had no idea what any of them meant of course, but... it was so pretty!
	Snapping herself back to attention briefly, she glanced back over to the... not-quite-entirely-human-thing. "No. The sword is mine. And anyone who wants it will have to prise it from my cold, dead hands."
	Domhnall dropped his hand from his cheek, awkwardly hung it in the air for a bit, as if unsure what to do with it, then clasped his knee, for a good measure. The former savage's attitude towards the spirit had ... certainly changed quickly, it appeared. From pleading them to help to, well, this. Her voice further held the remnants of the strange, hair-raising echo that likened her to the inhuman. She might also have misunderstood a bit of what he was meaning to ask, owing to his accent coming through unusually strong. He had been too deep in thought to pay much attention. 
	"An' ... before that? In the Zerul Ci'y?" 
	"Oh. Oh!" Angora nodded. "Well, some people would probably call me just a common killer. You know the ones you always hear about, the rapists and murderers who quite frankly are the kind of people that, well, I deal with. Y'see, my line of work, because it is work, despite it working on the wrong side of the law, is to deal with people like that." Angora reached over and took hold of the sword, placing it on her lap over the cloak that the other foreign person had kindly lent or given or whatever to her. 
	"It's true. I kill people for a living. But I'm no common thug. I'm what they call a contract killer. People who displease the people on high need to be dealt with before they bring the law down on our business, y'see? Usually I'll have to deal with drug dealers, rapists, child murderers, you know the types, the real scum of the streets and the sewers. But occasionally, we have to deal with rats. That's our word for informers, people who rat us out to the law. Who try to play both sides, you know? That isn't tolerated. When you work for the Firm... you swear an oath. You conduct yourself with dignitas, with honour, no matter what. You don't steal. You don't fuck with the higher-ups. And don't ever, and I mean ever work with the government to take us down. Because then you'll have a visit from someone like me. And make no mistake, you die that night. Might die satisfied but you'll die. The best way to deal with a man - and it's always men, I swear - is to appeal to what they really want. And you know what men really want most of the time. Which then makes them vulnerable. Can't defend yourself with nothing, you know?"
	For once (again), Domhnall did not react immediately, and glanced towards the two black-eyes's to see their reaction. This was not truly the kind of affairs he was too familiar with, being originally from near a rather small town - one which did not facilitate having its own secret underground and organizations and whatsit's -, and then mostly only visiting larger places to barter and visit a bar or an inn... People did not [i]usually[/i] send an assasin seductress after you because they thought five animal pelts should cost a rodlin less than you asked for. (Not that he actually overcharged; people were just always trying to haggle things down to the cheapest they could get.) And, by the sound of it, the people she had been dealing with had not exactly been merchants at the marketplace who you [i]thought[/i] asked prices for their hard-earned wares that were just sightly too high, either...