[table][row][cell][img]https://i.imgur.com/ADdFNTM.png[/img][/cell][cell][img]https://fontmeme.com/permalink/240504/7ea89157aa7490b85c1faa2a61df7e74.png[/img][/cell][/row] [row][cell][sub]Location: Eye of the Beholder[/sub][/cell][/row][/table] [color=9a45dc]“Please take care of yourself,”[/color] Staring out a frosted window, Ivor’s voice replayed incessantly in Kira’s mind. What [i]exactly[/i] had he meant by that? She’d been taking care of herself for decades. It had practically been her life’s entire purpose. A glance was all it took for most people to understand that she knew how to survive. She’d been worked down to the bone and reforged countless times to make sure of it. Only under her complete control could anyone perceive her differently. Only when she was undercover—playing the ditz or the damsel—did she let people see something softer. Something easier to manipulate. Something that allowed her to coax secrets from the lips of men and women alike, without having to brutalize or kill them for it. The lucky few. But Ivor didn’t seem to perceive her in the one dimensional way she’d intended. Something shameful and angry twisted in her gut. The softness in his tone should have been meant for someone else. She’d gotten rusty—[i]lazy[/i]. She blinked hard, trying to wash away the feeling of his voice. Snow fell steadily outside, and from her second-story vantage point, she silently watched as guards and civilians shifted through the snow-dusted streets of the town square. On instinct, she noted each face as they passed—some new, some familiar. After a few minutes, her eyes caught on a woman. Raven hair tied up into a neat bun. Middle-aged. Wearing noble Aurelian garb that swallowed up her thin frame. A stranger who bore a striking resemblance to a ghost of her past. She blinked. Somewhere, years ago, Kira had grappled with her in the dark, on cold stone flooring. Dripping down from a nearby bed, warm blood pooled over the stones where they both frantically scrambled for control. But Kira had been stronger. Covered in a dead man's blood, she managed to mount the woman's back and dominate her. Kira’s legs hooked around her torso, left arm tight around the woman’s throat as her right hand reached for the bloodied dagger that had clattered to the ground in their struggle. Covered in her husband’s blood, the woman’s scream burned itself into the dark recesses of Kira’s mind. Once she got a hand on her blade, the woman attempted to plead for her life through struggling breaths, pinned beneath the pressure of Kira’s arm crushing her windpipe. Kira barely heard her. Barely cared what she was trying to get out. In a single motion, she released her grip around the woman’s throat and swiftly sliced clean through her jugular with razor sharp steel. Crimson sprayed along the mahogany bed frame, the woman's body going limp against Kira’s chest. Shoving the body away, she pulled herself out from under it. Blood-slicked and breathing heavily, she rose to her feet— —meeting the gazes of two horrified children standing paralyzed in the doorframe. She blinked again. In the reflection, the orange glow of her eyes met her gaze—familiar, yet utterly foreign. A beast stared back. Though in truth, the reflection hadn’t changed much. She had been a monster then too. She was something else now—more. But never less. She’d taken care of herself then—and countless times following. It was all she knew how to do. If Ivor had meant something else— [i]No[/i]. She wouldn’t entertain the thought. Turning away from the window, her gaze dropped to a flickering candle in the center of the table. She prodded at one of her sharp canines with her tongue, hands clasped, absently massaging the warmth back into her fingers as she stared into the flame—trying to ignore the faint pulse of heartbeats beneath the floorboards. Drawing in a slow breath, she rose from the table, the chair scraping against the wooden floor. She’d taken enough of a break here. Enough dwelling. Enough [i]connection[/i]. She had things to attend to in her own shop. The Sages would likely want her to make an appearance soon. And she wanted to— Unbidden, an image flashed in her mind. A sickly fox. The creature inside the crate that the Lunarian guard had been peering into earlier—a vision she’d glimpsed through the eyes of the nameless guard she’d blood-bonded with that had unknowingly shared with her. The guard's emotions bled into her—hesitation and worry—as he offered the lethargic animal water and dried meat, willing it to survive. Kira closed her eyes sharply, blocking out the images and emotions that didn’t belong to her. Anger rippled through her in response. Reopening her eyes, she stalked toward the door and ripped it open. It was time to sever this tie.