[center][color=lightgray][h1]PIPER[/h1][/color][color=mediumseagreen][b]& CHERYL LUSBY[/b][/color][/center]

[color=lightgray]At his outburst, Piper gave no response. Why should he be concerned with a threat that was no longer present? Cheryl often was, but he saw no reason to adopt that habit. Unnecessary fear was a hindrance. Seeing the stranger's agitation, he chose not to say any of his thoughts. When the stranger finally returned to the more relevant topic of trading the watch, Piper raised his chin, amused.

'[i][b]You lie[/b][/i],' responded Piper, '[i][b]I sense no mana from that watch.[/b][/i]'

Even as he sent that message, a trace of doubt crossed his mind. The human was a strange one, after all. Maybe where he came from held mana-concealing materials? Even so, that didn't mean anything until the stranger could show him some of its "magical" capabilities. He jerked back his head as the watch was thrust in his face and his middle pinched, demanding him to stop dawdling around and take it already.

Magical or not, it didn't matter. The offer the stranger put forth was one in his favour and Piper wasn't about to wait any longer for another meal.

'[i][b]I agree to your terms. As long as the information you ask me to share will not upset Cheryl[/b][/i],' he added as an afterthought.

Cheryl. He hoped she was doing alright in her home.[/color]

[hr]
[color=mediumseagreen]The entire house had been ransacked. Cheryl swore under her breath as she stood in the middle of yet another room that looked like a herd of elephants had gone through it. Repeatedly.

Assholes.

She hadn't had time to peruse the house before the funeral - had wanted to be out of it more than anything then - but she remembered how orderly it had been. Carefully maintained. Clean. Neat. Cheryl had felt out of place in a house that she had hardly been in. In the times where finance was the biggest of their worries, Mum had almost always been exhausted from working so much. Yet, she'd always had a smile to spare whenever she saw Cheryl. She'd ask Cheryl about her day, thinking her daughter played outside with the other kids. Cheryl had always avoided the question.

They loved each other, but they had never been close.

The room she was in had been hers, a long time ago. She'd given it to Elena. It was small, only room enough for a bed and a chest. The chest yawned open, scattered garments spilling over the edges and pooling on the floor. The thin mattress on the floor was kicked to the side, hay peeking out at the seams.

She tugged the mattress straight with the toe of her boot. Then she knelt down, collapsing on her back.

All the money was gone. She didn't know if it had been Sancho and his dogs or Elena and she didn't feel like asking the option who was still alive.

She was just so tired. Since the funeral, no, since she'd gotten the letter, she'd thought that she'd cry sooner or later. That the sadness would well up somewhere within her, that she'd...feel something. So far, the only thing welling in her was anger - and even that felt obligatory. She rolled onto her side, leaning her head against her arm. She had to leave soon. Head to Rareckel. Get money. Find the bastard who'd done this. She had a pretty good idea who it was; she just needed proof.

She'd go. Soon.

Her eyelids dipped lower.[/color]