09-10-2018, 12:49 PM
She ruined a towel getting dry, then sprayed a liquid bandage on the wound before she got dressed. The coolness soothed, which was honestly more an irritant than the burning pain. The fighting hadn't stretched her; there'd be no pleasantly aching muscles in the morning.
It made the whole endeavour rather pointless actually.
Echoes travelled down from above. The screams and grunts were easier to hear here, the music too far above to penetrate. Even lower, in the deepest caverns of this place, was where she knew they kept the cages raised only for special nights; the darker things to titillate and awe, where she might sneak better sport. Nhysa stretched. Above her head the lights flickered while the dark slunk about her heels in a pool of her shadow. The purr of a little body, the curl of a tail to funnel her steps, and then gone.
She wouldn't normally bother with the patrons; she didn't fight to earn money or curry favour. But the bowels of hell were the best place to put an ear to the city's undercurrents, and that she was curious of. Apparently the dark agreed.
It hadn't been the plan; she didn't have clothes fit for the occasion, certainly not to shine as anything but the darkest of trinkets. Nhysa might not care for an audience to her sparring, but she did not mind admiring eyes of other kinds. But, tonight, simple black covered her body, svelte against hips, tight against her torso. Plain as night.
Her hair curled damply at the ends, hanging blunt above her eyes. Freckles dotted the paleness of her cheeks, otherwise unblemished. No one had come close to creeping within her guard tonight. A smirk ticked her lips, gaze catching momentarily on something else in the mirror, hung back in the shadows. She knew if she turned it'd be gone.
She headed up.
It was lavish; another world from the rawness of the pits below. Her eyes flickered amongst the crowd, a cursory inspection; shuffling threats from peacocks. She didn't recognise many faces. It was not like she needed to follow the finer currents of Custody politics; she was only the end of the blade, instructed where to point, and upon whose chest to slide inside. Or conversely who to protect with her own beating heart. She didn't only devil in murder after all.
There was someone though, albeit they had never really done more than cross paths. She remembered a sleeve of tattoos in the cavernous dark, and skin warmed by a sun that never reached this deep. He didn't belong, not like some, and yet he always came back.
His face was familiar for other reasons too of course, from his films. She couldn't recall they had ever spoken though. China was no ally of the Custody, and Nhysa had killed many men with the same dark hair and tilted eyes. He reminded her in some small way of one of them, though since he had been quite beautiful, it was no bad thing.
The shadow of a smile welcomed her expression. She pulled a chair without asking or waiting for an invitation. "Only watching, tonight?"
It made the whole endeavour rather pointless actually.
Echoes travelled down from above. The screams and grunts were easier to hear here, the music too far above to penetrate. Even lower, in the deepest caverns of this place, was where she knew they kept the cages raised only for special nights; the darker things to titillate and awe, where she might sneak better sport. Nhysa stretched. Above her head the lights flickered while the dark slunk about her heels in a pool of her shadow. The purr of a little body, the curl of a tail to funnel her steps, and then gone.
She wouldn't normally bother with the patrons; she didn't fight to earn money or curry favour. But the bowels of hell were the best place to put an ear to the city's undercurrents, and that she was curious of. Apparently the dark agreed.
It hadn't been the plan; she didn't have clothes fit for the occasion, certainly not to shine as anything but the darkest of trinkets. Nhysa might not care for an audience to her sparring, but she did not mind admiring eyes of other kinds. But, tonight, simple black covered her body, svelte against hips, tight against her torso. Plain as night.
Her hair curled damply at the ends, hanging blunt above her eyes. Freckles dotted the paleness of her cheeks, otherwise unblemished. No one had come close to creeping within her guard tonight. A smirk ticked her lips, gaze catching momentarily on something else in the mirror, hung back in the shadows. She knew if she turned it'd be gone.
She headed up.
It was lavish; another world from the rawness of the pits below. Her eyes flickered amongst the crowd, a cursory inspection; shuffling threats from peacocks. She didn't recognise many faces. It was not like she needed to follow the finer currents of Custody politics; she was only the end of the blade, instructed where to point, and upon whose chest to slide inside. Or conversely who to protect with her own beating heart. She didn't only devil in murder after all.
There was someone though, albeit they had never really done more than cross paths. She remembered a sleeve of tattoos in the cavernous dark, and skin warmed by a sun that never reached this deep. He didn't belong, not like some, and yet he always came back.
His face was familiar for other reasons too of course, from his films. She couldn't recall they had ever spoken though. China was no ally of the Custody, and Nhysa had killed many men with the same dark hair and tilted eyes. He reminded her in some small way of one of them, though since he had been quite beautiful, it was no bad thing.
The shadow of a smile welcomed her expression. She pulled a chair without asking or waiting for an invitation. "Only watching, tonight?"