Of Silk and Fangs

[yutzen]

(And the last one from the archives that I want to put up - from this point forwards it's all gonna be new. Main crew once more, and based on a prompt from Make Up A Criminal on Cohost, which I will very much miss. I thank them for giving me the ideas that spun off into some of my most loved characters)

Assassin who keeps making you the bait

---

"Alright, then, let's run this checklist one more time...!"

In a sparse hotel room, surrounded by shale brickwork, a smiling, horned bat stood right before a mirror tall enough to capture all eight feet of her properly. Rather than her usual billowing cloaks and cowls that hid all but her face and hands, she was wearing a silken one-piece that neatly hugged her lithe body while leaving her limbs - and all their thick, pale-brown fluff - uncovered for once. It was practically underwear by the standards she knew... But she needed to survey herself one last time for what was to come.

"Fancy dress, check!", she began, snatching a heap of bright blue fabric off the back of the nearest chair. A toss in the air and a deft grab from below, and said dress was slid flawlessly onto her body, letting her admire it on herself once she turned back to the mirror. The shiny, sapphire-blue threads wrapped neatly around her slender form, which felt almost odd for her to show this much. So used to billowing cloaks, something that showed her shape was novel... and that little slit around the legs almost felt scandalous to her. "Looking good, Ziv-Ziri! Hee, I should save this one after the party, might want to surprise someone", she told herself in a lilting tone as she spread back her wings... neatly covered in glittering strands of the same fabric, that almost floated around them with a will of their own. Perfect to hide the unsightly - and more importantly, unmistakeable - damage all over them. She almost wanted to flap them...

But Ziv-Ziri cast that thought from her head and returned to the moment, rather than get lost on such flights of fancy. "Fancy jewelry, check!", she continued, and opened up a small, wooden box laid out on the bed. Inside, the accessories she'd need shined in the candlelight: Bracelets big enough to hold loosely around her wrists, rings with (decently faked) rubies for her long, dexterous fingers, a long, silvery necklace with the symbol of a guild she didn't belong to cast in (what looked like) gold, and the most important part: A dazzling array of earrings and pendants to chose from and combine, all for even the most elegant of Vezarym to fit their enormous ears with - or at least, they looked the part. Already her mind ran with possibilities: "I'm gonna have to find the right set for these... hope I get to keep them, no matter how much of an imitation this all is. Good enough for me!"

Snatching a handful out of the box, the bat headed back to the mirror, smiling at the sight of her newly-fancy self. Even by her lonesome, she couldn't resist a comment as she slid the closest chair in front of it: "Makes a lady feel like a proper guildmaster looking like this! Speaking of though, next up: Attitude!" She snapped her fingers, holding her grin as if amused by the act... And then, with a quick, deep breath, everything about her motions shifted in moments. Her smile went from toothy and overjoyed to closed and merely polite, her eyes narrowed to something a little more sultry, and she turned on her side with one leg crossed over the other, rather than her previous pose that suggested she'd jump off the seat at any time. Her every movement went from its energetic, near-jittery self to something slow, fluid, and perhaps almost languid, so long as she could mind it. "Yes.... yes! Feels like a check to me!", she said, triumphantly.

Right before covering her mouth. "Oh, right", she said, stifling a giggle, "speech! Accent, way of speak, let's see..." With a subtle clearing of her throat, Ziv trailed her fingers along the ridges of her neck, preparing herself... And then, a speech, in a voice both lower and smoother than her usual shrieky tone. "Let's see, let's see. I have a part to play, and today that part is of a fancy- no, of an elegant sort. And so, I must sound ten, or perhaps twenty years older than I am, a check on that perhaps. Modulate better, of course, and use a vocabulary fit for the most affluent. My, perhaps I have it after all! And of course, the... mm, obvious, yet, mm... perennial, that is it! The perennial accent of one that never left the tallest rungs of Tak-Fizun. A definite check on that, too, mhmhmhm~!" Throughout it all, her motions were elegant, but perhaps overdramatic, going with her every word as if acting out a play... complete with corpsing, by the end, as she fell into a giggle-fit at her own impression of a pampered guildmistress.

Yet again, the bat cleared her throat, getting back to her 'elegant' tone. "Still, or rather nevertheless, there is something missing here. Mm, a touch of makeup, check." She looked at the little table that separated her from the mirror, and palmed the tiny box at the very corner. "Lucky me to have the eyelashes I do, am I not?", she muttered as she leaned much closer to the mirror, her eyes wide open... And indeed, under the light of her own iris, those long and tangled lashes were very visible. She reached up with one hand to carefully straighten them out between their digits, thinking about how troublesome they could be outside this, while her other hand opened said box, to find the needed implements within...

But on the way there, her digits almost bumped a thick tube of something off onto the floor, then snatched it out of the air before it could land. Thankful for her reflexes, she quickly checked just what that was...
"Black dye... crap, should've done that one before everything else. Well, check, I guess, looks like that's everything." Her ears flicked with annoyance, jingling their new jewelry. This was gonna take a while.

And there was someone that needed to know it, in fact.

Making a quick run for the door, Ziv-Ziri twisted the handle as slowly and quietly as her haste would let her, and opened it up just enough to poke her face outside, and say: "Sorry, Pins, dye's gonna take me some time, I'll try and make the rest quick! But I think I got this down at least...!"

And the figure right outside, less than half her height and wearing a long, smoky-blue coat that covered them from neck to ankles, more fit for Southern rains than a hotel room, barely even turned to look at her before nodding. "Knew y'would, on all accounts.", answered a male voice, slightly muffled and with a faint lisp to it. 'Pins' raised his hat's great, drooping brim, and despite seeing nothing but two piercing turquoise eyes she knew there was a smile beneath them, somewhere under that scarf, as he added: "Y'can feel free t'arrive 'fashionably late', think it might even work better, yeh?"

"Just gonna hope you're right" was all she had to say before shutting the door. They both had work to do.

---

"Mm? Pardon, mister Nalvik, did I hear you right?"

Ziv-Ziri - or rather, "Netarki", owner of an up-and-coming (and nonexistent) clothing enterprise in the Eastern Gyre - had heard him the first time, of course. But it gave her a chance to flash that tiny smile that this old Toskar seemed to love already, and make sure he was committing to this. He was entranced as it was, sure, but better to have him completely around her little finger. And besides, she did have the excuse that this was a busy place. A delightful little eatery, it was, and conveniently placed, too! And whatever the stone that made up this smooth architecture, with the structure's parts just blending into each other near seamlessly... It was pretty by itself, and while one'd expect its brownish color to feel dull, under the candlelight it felt welcoming and even warm. Shame it was so expensive "Netarki" would need to dig deep into Ziv-Ziri's wallet just to play the part. Unless she could convince him to cover his tab...

He answered while she pondered, his gruff, gravely voice cutting into her thoughts. "I said, I think we could hash out a more elaborate agreement, miss Netarki." The Toskar she was dining with, of course, was another case of unfortunate flaws. He was huge, almost as tall as her and wider than any she'd seen, and clearly a veteran both by his age and the scars along his arms and neck, where his overburdened shirt couldn't hide them. And the cracked quills of black and white along his back were impossible to miss, despite the lighting. If you didn't mind age and size - or if you liked them - he was more than easy on the eyes, and if her old friend Askalim looked like this in his old age, he'd be lucky... aside from the mustache. That had to go.

"Oh! Then do go on. I was already sold on your usual services, I must admit, but... you have my interest, mm~?", she said, leaning forwards, letting her wings twitch briefly just to let the fabric flutter. She held her smile, and let her eyes wander just slightly, to show "interest" he could catch on to.

And it seemed he did, going by that grin of his. The Toskar was clearly aiming for a small one, but it was hard for someone like him not to show enough teeth to rip out a throat just trying to be friendly. Was one of them ivory of some kind? "Netarki" would like the subtlety, but to Ziv it just seemed tacky. "While we do provide establishment and logistical protection, and you can rest assured nothing will happen to any cargo you request or send, there is a little something... extra. A few extra favors, for customers who deserve it, and would rather not be... troubled, by upstarts in their field." Now he leaned in, making his chair creak as he laid one heavy claw on the table next to his empty dish, and raised one digit in the air with his other. "An enterprise like yours has enough trouble without others from far outside this town barging into their business, I imagine."

Ziv-Ziri couldn't assure this was the jackpot, but it sure sounded like it. She knew of "contractors" that had been leaving smaller businesses to the wolves around the Eastern Gyre, even as far outside as Saltmeadows... And, more importantly for her and her customers, actively hunting down caravans and smuggling operations alike in the area, to stamp down on outside competition, even the murky sort. But, "Netarki" had to be delighted about this, and so she played the part.

"Is that so?", she began, her voice huskier for just those three words. "Why, that already sounds like something I may need, the way winds are blowing... And you say this is for customers who deserve it, mm~?" She punctuated that "deserved" with a big, big smirk, going as far as she could without showing fangs, and with the briefest of winks from her golden eyes. She waited for his reaction, and soon heard him huff, a surprised, yet delighted exhalation of someone that got it. Time to lay it on a little thicker and secure things. "Ah, but topics like these, matters of such depth, should be covered with a little more privacy, don't you think~?", she said, in a lower, lilting tone... before rising one finger and looking towards the nearest staff, thankfully three tables away. "Check, please~!", she called out, complete with oblivious smile and a side-glance at the badger.

But as soon as the staff nodded and called out for someone deeper in, as soon as she started to fetch her part of the tab, Nalvik reached out and gently nudged her wrist back down. "Oh, no, miss Netarki, I'll pay. It's only proper, for this lovely evening!" And again that razor-sharp smile... On one hand, not having to pay was a plus, but on the other, not letting her cover her part felt odd. Surely he knew what that meant to a Vezarym? It was either an act of... charity, or part of a greater transaction. Either a slight against someone who had her own money and plenty of it (much as Ziv-Ziri herself would've just seen it as scathing honesty), or an indebtment. Well, back to the one hand, she had him! And so, Ziv smiled again, with just a bit of teeth, and let her mask wear said smile.

---

One transaction, one farewell and several traded smiles later, out they were into the sandstone streets, with yet-unclear direction. Despite their time in there, the shrouded crowds of Bannerbound hadn't thinned one bit - if only, they'd gotten thicker, with meandering Troxi showing their feathery crests. This made a few things harder, but it meant this charade could go a little longer.

With two quick twitches of her left wing, Ziv made a signal to the one that should be watching, before donning her noble smile and turning to the "generous" Toskar with her once more.

"Now", she began, leaning in, "about these, ah, "upstart" troubles... I must admit I've had a few of my own. Of the off-city sort, in fact." The Toskar turned with a raised eyebrow, his smile turning just a little sly. "Netarki" had his attention again, and so, she kept digging, looking for confirmation. "I won't bore you with the details just yet, of course, there are nuances that would spoil our evening, but... Ah, there's one bothersome clothier that's been hacking away at his prices, even as I have to raise mine! With the Clans making it ever pricier for spider-silk from our guilds to get in, I've needed to triple some of my wares, outright? And yet, this one, this one..."

She paused, clenching ring-laden fingers in fake outrage - one that led to a single, enormous webbed claw settling against her shoulder and holding tight, pulling her closer. It almost derailed her train of thought right then and there, but as she reminded herself this was a sign of success, she kept going. "...I found, after a deeper look, that he was importing it anyhow. Sneaking it in, paying some filthy miscreants to slip it past into his hands. And he still has enough left over to keep the old prices, and enrich himself on the difference! It just isn't fair, in the least..."

Another pause, feigning helplessness, and a loud sigh... Just enough for her to locate a familiar hat with a wide, droopy brim among the crowd. So far, so good.

And now, for the finishing blow. With big yellow eyes turning to him once more, fluttering to flaunt their lashes' painted length, and with a big, hopeful smile, "Netarki" opened with a sweet tone: "Is that something your services can take care of, Nalvik? Something you and your men can help me with?" She leaned until she was almost laying on him, her long fingers on his shoulders. Her smile now showed just a few too many teeth, and a turn at the corner that was almost lascivious. One last push, with some husky, sultry honey in her tone: "Can I have a strong hand such as yours, aiding me in correcting this little injustice~? The hand of a powerful man, who can put all of this in its rightful place~? I could use that~."

Ziv-Ziri didn't even have time to doubt, to fear she may have overdone it. His eyes were wide, his breath grew quicker, and even with the fur she could see him redden, as his smile quivered just to remain polite. Lord Below, the "taste for Vezarym" bit in the dossier wasn't exaggerating. He answered, wrestling with his flustered voice. "Ah... I never knew you were so troubled. Why, a lady like you shouldn't ever have such burdens on her shoulders. Let me assure you, this is very much something we can take care of." Then, the big badger leaned in, and pressed her tightly against himself with his claw, letting her feel his sheer heft through both her dress and his thick, wooly shirt. In her ear, a whisper, not even bothering to hide his desire: "But we should hash out this properly, and privately, Netarki, don't you agree~?"

Jackpot. A fairly uncomfortable and very dangerous jackpot, and one that gave her troubling thoughts, but a jackpot nonetheless. It was time to reel it in. Ziv slid one hand behind his back in the pretense of an embrace, and made a few motions for a pair of turquoise eyes to see.

"Netarki" then pulled back just enough to add a whisper of her own: "A hotel room wouldn't do for that sort of privacy, but I have a place... My office. It's an old place, just refurbished... and so, no one yet has moved in, but me. And no one shall bother us there~" And with one fingernail trailing gently down the back of the Toskar's neck - finding scars that made her wonder if he'd been bitten by something before - she pulled back just enough to flash narrow, smoldering eyes at him, letting them glow just a little brighter... Before adding, with a cheerier tone: "And besides, it's quite close! I wouldn't want to make you wait, mm~?"

And from there, it was just a matter of marching out and gently, but firmly pulling him along by the wrist. Ziv knew she couldn't get him anywhere if he simply stopped, so "Netarki" gave him a long stride with swaying hips to follow, spreading her wings upwards just a little so he could see it. It was a stronger hook on him than any other she could think of, and by said hook he was reeled right in...

Towards an old, blocky building of recently-polished limestone, its windows closed and dark but neither shuttered or boarded, and its door given some very recent care. It fit the fib Ziv-Ziri fed him, and the badger didn't need to know just how recent said "refurbushing" was.

She pulled the old soldier to the door, but when she slipped the (skeleton) key to open it where it belonged, the Vezarym felt something tense in him. Soon as she turned around, she saw him looking around, with narrowed eyes. He was looking for something, but he had no idea what...

Ziv's mind raced. He was a soldier, and looked like a veteran at that, so it wasn't unlikely that something about this last trek had set off his instincts. Maybe it was how much the crowds had thinned, or the building itself. Or maybe he'd seen a hint of a smoky-blue coat on the sidewalk that gave him an odd feeling. Oh, that was bad... But this was still an uncertain stage. She could still convince him it was nothing to worry about, whatever it was. But if she couldn't guess what without asking, and thus showing worry... She'd need to go for a stronger option.

So "Netarki" closed the distance with a smile, and leaned in- no, outright laid on the Toskar's stout body, opening both wings to cling them around his shoulders, and reaching around his enormous waist to latch on. She placed her hands right above his hips, and sank those fingers into his figure, as round and solid as a barrel, and then closed the distance between their snouts, leaving less than an inch of separation, looking at him with half-lidded eyes. "Come oooooooon, it wouldn't do to make a lady wait, wouldn't it~? Especially one eager for some help~..."

And just to finish it off, she trailed one hand down to his thigh - one that Ziv thought could probably bend iron over its knee - and sank her grasp there instead, palming it and all.

Lord Below she really was going for this, wasn't she. Thankfully, Nalvik responded to that before she could start considering what "going for it" like this said (or didn't say) about her, that conundrum could wait. "Eager, you say...?", he asked with a smile that refused to hide its fangs...

Time for "Netarki" to finish her part. Her only answer was to keep her same smirk, and practically lunge into the darkness of the building, with a giggle that would almost be un-ladylike. But they both knew what they intended in the room at the far end, where the old Toskar practically chased her inside - outright slamming the door behind him - no longer caring about the place this would lead to.

He was too excited, and too deafened by his own heavy steps upon the floor, to notice the door would quietly open again just moments later.

He saw her slip into one room at the very end, and tunnel-visioned as he was, didn't even think to glance around the hallway and see the work that went into cleaning and polishing it all up. He just went right for the door, opening it into sheer darkness... Before two yellow eyes opened half-way, and the lighting of a candle let him see just what was inside. But all he had eyes for was one thing: The Vezarym sitting on the desk, leaning back with widespread wings, and one long, long leg crossed over the other, furry thighs shown under the hem of her blue dress. "So, big man... about that agreement~..."

From that moment, Nalvik was entirely lost. He made a steady approach, already reaching for the bottom of his shirt to pull it off, bare himself and "hash out an agreement"...

Before he heard a rush of wind, and felt something long, squishy and wet slap across the side of his neck, around his throat, and making the full lap before he could react to stop it. He felt this overly thick rope bulge and tense somehow, as someone caught the other end, and he felt several little pinpricks all around his neck like a collar of spikes-

"Deal's off, blubberpot", said by lisping, wheezy voice.

A tug at both ends, and a kick to his lower back that sent him stumbling forwards. A surge of searing pain all around his neck, as those pinpricks became something like the savage fangs of a beast he'd never known digging into his flesh. The sight of "Netarki" closing her eyes and turning her ears away, more uncomfortable than horrified-

And for Nalvik Mirkalshum, leader and owner of the Snowbownd Shields company, that was that.

---

"...can I open my ears now?"

Ziv-Ziri piped up, squirming on a desk that wasn't hers before standing back up. She had heard two thuds rather than one, the latter much heavier, but she still needed reassurance it was over. The aftermath, she could handle with some steeling, but the process...

"Yeh, 's done." The voice - and accent - of Liyon "Pins" Pinweave was unmistakeable, even with her ears down and shuttered from within. "Had a bit a' trouble with th'bit near th'end. Got one hell of a backbone to 'im-"
"I don't need to hear that, Pins, that's your part", she answered, utterly unamused, before letting go of the blockage... and wincing. The cut was clean, alright, though the mess on the floor as what was left bled out very much wasn't. And there was Pins himself, with his... "armament" crawling out of his sleeve: A red, pulsing tongue serrated with shark-like teeth that quickly retracted back into their spots within, as he used it to wipe...
"Pins I thought that was your ACTUAL TONGUE STOP-"
He waved her concerns off with his other hand. "I'm a professional like y'are in yer field, an' y'got to keep a rule fer each thing when yer doin' wetwork. I ain't walkin' out with blood on m'coat. 's improper, too."

Ziv could only hold her mouth just in case she started to retch, but thankfully, she could control herself, with one hand on the desk to steady herself. She did her best to convince herself she didn't hear a sound like a muffled slurp. "Fine, fine, I'll need a drink after this though. Another one even." She shook her head, opening her eyes, and looking over herself... not even one bloodstain on her dress at least, but she wasn't quite as sure she wanted to keep it anymore. "...was it the drink? You saw how I got... deep in character there, you think that helped? Was it too much...? That I was getting so easy with-"

Again, a wave that looked dismissive. "Just told ye, yer a professional. 's got its not-fancy bits, th'job. Th'bit I'm doin' now's like th'bit y'did just before." Again, that... tongue, retracted into his sleeve, and presumably into whatever mouth was beneath his scarf. Then, he raised one spittle-stained finger at her. "'n you did it good, too. Would've bagged th'guy even if he hadn't liked bats. Y'saw I was right 'bout that one, yeh? But y'went well above it. Pfheheheh, could've dragged even a moth in 'ere, right by the-"

"Yeah yeah sure okay I got the idea thanks." Ziv could only handle so much, especially after the most bizarre compliment she'd ever gotten. But a compliment nonetheless, and from a... "professional", at that. Crude or not, he knew his stuff. "But I guess you're right that it did work, even if it put me way too close to him..." There, she had to stop herself from glancing at the separated body on the floor. "Worked on a big guy, too, and this time I mean that by position! That ought to throw them into chaos for a little while..."

Liyon raised the brim of his hat enough to look her eye to eye. "Went well enough that I'm gonna ask if y'can do that again. If it ain't this way, in another, 'cause I think you may have a knack fer actin'. Y'got some years wearin' a smile in front a' people that'll kill ye if they catch yer bullshittin' 'em, yeh?" And again, the Bannerbound raised a wet finger, almost pointing it at her. "'n I bet ye need a fella with my kinda knack for wetwork too. I heard of ya, means somethin' in th' business, yeh? Yer growin' somethin' alright, 'n yer gonna need more a' this." He emphasized, pointing at the bloody sight on the floor she very much didn't want to look at.

The Vezarym was sent into a sputter. "Wh- I don't need- I don't have- this was just a- do they want me dead already- ONE SEC." One deep breath later, she reorganized her thoughts enough to speak them: "Okay, if you heard of me, before I heard of you, that's... a problem. Worse than I thought when agreed on... this. Crud." She started to think back on this assassin's... familiarity. Damn it, he knew her way before, didn't he. And she hadn't even thought anything of it before, let alone pondered the implications. When an assassin had studied you this much, it was usually bad news. But it meant something for her, too, and her... growing, actual enterprise. One in which every time things went off the rails, or even stayed on them, someone died. And all she could do was keep hers alive, few as they were...

By the time she held that thought, and looked up, Liyon was right by the window of the room. "Think 'bout it, yeh? Right now, we oughta leave, quiet as that went. Got a climbin' route that oughta get us both right outta here quick. Call that one another good bit, I know y'can handle one a' my climbin' routes." Climbing rather than flying him out, another thing he knew. Damn it.

Nevertheless, there was only one thing left to do, as she approached the window with him and laid one claw on the side... Well, two things, one that maybe gave her a chance to rattle him back. "Yeah, I guess I'll have to think about it now. But on the plus side, I know where to find you!"