[color=mediumseagreen][CENTER][h1]CHERYL LUSBY[/h1][/CENTER][/color]

[color=mediumseagreen]Strange music jarred Cheryl from her stupor and she took a step back. Her mind whirred fast in the next few seconds. 

A set up. Of course Cheryl wasn't responsible for Mum's death - the hell would she obtain from killing off the one person she'd risked her life for all these years? Sancho had to be dumber than she'd thought, buying Elena's lies like that. Under all that false bravado, he hadn't changed a bit.

This only confirmed that this went further than Elena. The caretaker couldn't have cooked up something like this on her own. '[i]And[/i]', a part of her grudgingly admitted, '[i]she wouldn't have much reason to do something like this without outside influence.[/i]' Her few interactions with Elena years ago had reflected a capable young lady with a demeanour others might have called "sweet". Cheryl called it "sickening naivety" - but that was probably what Mum needed all those years. Someone who actually knew to care for her and love her the way she deserved. 

Someone who could give her everything Cheryl Lusby couldn't. 

At the stranger's shout, Cheryl gritted her teeth. Turning around, she flung a hand out towards him.

'[b]Stop that-whatever it is you're doing, idiot! I had it under control![/b]' she snapped. Without waiting for his response, she twisted back towards the door. It hung open, revealing the pitiful, scattered mess of the town's guards. Sancho was still gathering himself, dazed from his tumble down the tavern's steps. The guards, however, were still on their feet and as soon as Cheryl stepped through the door, they raised their spears. The unison of their movement and wariness of the action showed that they could be somewhat competent after all. 

Too bad Cheryl was better. 

In her walk to the door, she'd opened the clasp of her second belt pouch, closer than the one she'd gotten her money from. It had to be - its contents were far more important than some old coins. Now, she stood at the door, one hand tucked into that pouch.

Then she glowed. Wisps of pale turquoise rose above her skin. Green pupils flashed, almost as if electrified. The guards hesitated at the display, some gasping aloud, but to their credit, all of them stood their ground. She walked down the steps and Sancho, who'd just gotten to his knees, scuttled back on his ass.

'[/color][b]No-don't do this! Please![/b][color=mediumseagreen]'

The guards stepped closer, then stilled when Cheryl raised a glowing hand.

'[b]Come closer and and the life of your Chief Guard falls by your hands.[/b]'

They did not move again. Her gaze flicked down towards Sancho. His face was as pale as a scroll, almost ashen in her light.

'[b]Give me three days.[/b]'

'[/color][b]Wh-what?[/b][color=mediumseagreen]'

'[b]I'll prove that it wasn't me who killed Velva Heilman.[/b]' Detachment. It helped numb the cold emptiness of grief, grounded her from running from reality. '[b]In three days, find me in Rareckel and you'll have your proof. Do we have a deal?[/b]'

Sancho hesitated. Cheryl cocked her head. Then a bark of laughter escaped Sancho, hysteria colouring its edges.

'[/color][b]A deal? The moment you're out of my sight, we'll have a fugitive on our hands! You really expect me to trust you?![/b][color=mediumseagreen]'

The corner of her lip curled upwards.

'[b]Yes. Because if you don't...[/b]' Fingers alight with turquoise twitched. Sancho gasped as a gust of wind blew through the area.

'[b]Since you're such a fan of rumours, I'm sure you know what I can do.[/b]'

The area was void of but a few people, commoners who had not the presence of mind to think of running away. Siphoning out all other expressions that had previously been aimed towards her, there was a collective tension that ran through every witness of the display:

Fear. 

Cheryl relished in it.

Sancho nodded weakly. '[/color][b]Three...three days.[/b][color=mediumseagreen]'

'[b]Good.[/b]' In her pouch, she let go of the mana shard and the wisps returned into her skin, as if sucked in. The light dissipated. Piper started cleaning the underside of his wings, the scrape of his rough tongue against his feathers audible against her ear. '[b]Remember. Rareckel. And call your dogs off. I'm going home.[/b]'

With that, she stalked off. Now that the light show was gone, the disgust had returned. She could feel it emanating from every civilian she passed, nearly drowning out their fear. The whispers started up again. 

Let them whisper. She knew the truth.[/color]