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[h1][color=fff200][url=http://image.ibb.co/jqLASx/421ac45a9675cd0dbe3cb1120dbbc8fb.jpg]Mercaidi Kin'Myla[/url][/color][/h1][h3][color=fff200]of the Shir-Lalancanne[/color] [/h3][/center]

[color=fff200]~[u]abandoned well, secret meeting.[/u][/color] 
[color=fff200]~[u]Bradles Worth, Lake Victorine[/u][/color]

Her name was Ouna. And she was late.

The girl had quite the limp. In fact, so bad was her leg that she could barely even walk long and meandering distances, let alone run. Her raven hued hair was braided as always, even lengthed and parted down the middle. Her cowl had flown off her head in the grand gusts of winds, exposing fully her ashen coloured face and yellow-orange eyes. Pretty, yes, but a bit dull by the looks of that constant awed expression. The one limp length of an elf’s pointed ear told the girl’s story in full; she was ‘special’ some might say. She hobbled along in her olive homesteader’s smock and beige homesteader’s dress. Boots that shuffled awkwardly neath her feet were cheaply made by any standard but they fit the bill; this was a simple cleaner and aid afterall.

And to whom did this short, simple servant girl belong? Oh, but to none other than [i]Jonathan of the Percullin Groves. [/i]She was property of the winery and orchard of the  Percullin family. Such a grand family but due to pneumonia and other such complications of poor-immune systems, the family had whittled down to but two: Jonathan—Jono, if you were friendly enough, and his daughter, [i]Enna-Leigh.[/i] Yet even though there were but two Percullins, their labour force was in the dozens, such was the pull of an affluent and wealthy family. 

So here at the Orchard was this servant girl stationed. Oh, but quite the situation they found themselves. Jono, the owner and proprietor was blind as the moonless midnight sky, and, this ashen skinned servant girl was not only lame but mute as well. Such a pair. And so enter Enna-Leigh, this teen girl was the backbone and go between for her father and such base subjects; the teen girl was effectively the quartermistress of this fine ship. But ever since the ashen skinned servant girl had arrived here but 7 months ago, they had all hit it off and a strange yet wondrous chemistry they had between the three. And as such, in private, Jono had called the ‘special’ girl, Ouna, his long lost daughter, twice removed and several bloodlines shy of the Orchard; in other words, he basically accepted her as kin now. 

~~~

But she was late! She was supposed to be at the [i]Ol’ Man Scritchard Well[/i], oh, but a good hour ago. But damn, this limp…

Suddenly the girl stopped dead in her tracks, closed her eyes and took a nerve-steeling breath. Off went the worker boots. Up went the frock. And gone was the  limp. Just like lightning striking towards an unmistakable target did she go. 

There was no other here to bear witness of such an act. She was skilled, attuned and expertised enough to know such things. This ‘girl’ was nearly 100 years old after all. And if not obvious by now, she was not lame. Not even close. It was like she was born in the forest; just a mere glance to bear witness to her movements with liquid ease and confidence through the woods would tell even the most naïve that she was no mere servant girl. And so she finally reached the well in but mere minutes.

[color=fff200]“I am here, Gianna…”[/color] her breath was heavy and her voice was gruff. But aye, this ‘special’ and mute girl was not mute and more [i]special[/i] than any would ever  suspect, [color=fff200]“’tis I; Mercie… you know my other name as I do know yours.”[/color]

If any were to just happen to catch the lone girl, eyes closed and slowly turning in a circle, speaking into thin air, one may mistaken her for a mad lass, hopelessly lost and desperate for help. But that was not the truth. Nay and forever again, nay. This ashen skinned woman was ‘sensing out.’ If she did not, she would be dead where she stood—

An arrow streaked right at her heart in near silence. This ashen skinned woman’s orange-yellow eyes burst open and faster than the arrow, she slid to the right. Instantly, she crouched down as another arrow whispered past her scalp. Another arrow sped at her heart and she caught it. She actually caught it. This ashen skinned woman named Mercie was now armed.

The lame ear was now perked up and swivelling in the opposite direction of her other perked up ear. And now she caught the sounds of the invisible assailant. The sound of a blade being drawn had given away her opponent’s position. Mercie dodged left, ducked down, crossed her arms right in front of her face and caught the sword arm. A grasp, a twist and a spin of the body. When all was said and done, Mercie had the assailant at her mercy, the tip of the poisoned arrow but a hair’s breadth away from piercing the invisible opponents fine, sweat-sheened skin.

[color=fff200]“Again, I know your namesake, Gianna, and if you do not know my name right now, then [i][b]so long and goodnight[/b][/i]—”[/color]

[color=6ecff6][i]“Yield…![/i] Yield, do I, Mercaidi. [i][b]I know your name…[/b][/i]”[/color] said the invisible assailant. And even though she was but a heartbeat away from being slain, there was a small giggle in that voice, [color=6ecff6]“…miss me, sister…?”[/color]

The arrow spun expertly between Mercie’s dusky hued fingertips. A smile now broke the stoic visage. The submission chokehold now turned into a full on embrace. [color=fff200]“No. You miss me, sister…?”[/color]

[color=6ecff6]“Never…”[/color] said Gianna and the embrace was returned. The cowl of her cloak fell away and the invisibility enchantment dissipated. Into view now was revealed a svelte, fair-skinned and lovely blonde-headed Fae-Elf. A kiss the Elf planted on the cheek of her shorter ashen skinned, mix-blood, [i][b]Underhanded[/b][/i] brethren.[color=6ecff6] “You know how much I hate you, little Miss Thing…”
[/color]

For several welcome heartbeats more they held the embrace. Mercie even sighed into the taller female’s neck, hinting to times past and times they should not relive again. A nervous swallow was the tall blonde Elf’s response; perhaps the matter still had more than words that still needed to be addressed?

A clearing of the throat smothered out a moment of weakness that would have had repercussions ripping blood red right through the Assassin’s Guild. [color=fff200][i]“Ahem...[/i] and sooooo…?”[/color] said Mercaidi, a tightness in her voice, but nothing releasing the lovely blonde could not cure.

Orange-yellow eyes met sky-blue ones for the first time in years and Mercaidi almost lost the steel in her nerves and almost fell victim to the beat in her heart and the heat ‘tween her thighs. 

Almost. But not quite.  For she then noted the symbolic twisted charm hung by a chain between Gianna’s ample breasts and also noted now the shining gem planted front and centre of her blonde Underhanded brethren’s forehead. Gianna was betrothed. Dammit. 

Another clearing of her throat. Then with thinly veiled indignance in her voice, Mercie asked for what had brought the two together here in the first place; a trade.  

[color=fff200]“So, then, [i]Ms[/i]. Gianna Mahanne delOrdani, what news have you of my hidden passage North to the Barrows? What would the Guild have in return for such favour, sister…?”[/color]

  
[i][/i]