I'l Fana Kelbé (The White Hart) Contract: 'Retaking a Memory'

[Artemis Black]

Artemis grunted and pulled the bloodied blank bag over in front of him. He didn’t even notice the talk of commissioning Ksenia, though he would have appreciated the discussion. He dipped a hand into his tools pouch, feeling around for a moment before removing a small stone with a rune inscribed. He stuck the stone into the bag and lightly tossed it to arc over Katarya’s head.

The bag sailed, gently passing over the witches and landing on the floor, the stone inside clacking gently. “Works, magic detect didn’t pull it into her face,” he said. Sliding out of his chair and stumbling over to pick up the bag. He pocketed his detect magic stone and placed the functioning blank bag back onto the table.

“We should probably get going then, otherwise we’ll get fired before we even get inside,” Artemis said with a sigh as he reached for the clothes intended for him. Given they were in a back room, and he was beyond caring he simply shucked off his boots and shimmied out of his pants. ‘Two of the three have seen me already,’ he grumped to himself as he yanked his shirt off and tossed it over the back of his chair.

“Based on the lack of spacing I’m guessing this is a tight fit,” Artemis said as he poked at the groin of his outfit. He shrugged and tossed aside his underclothes as well before carefully stuffing himself into the near skin-tight clothing. It took several minutes of delicate wiggling and grunting before he managed to arrange himself. “I am not a fan, but it does have a certain appeal,” he said as he adjusted his pants to not wedge entirely into his buttocks.

[Katarya Frost]

Kat gave a noise of surprise as the bag came flying at her, missing her head just barely. She scowled. "Next time, that'll be coming right back at you!" She said, while Nyx chattered loudly in amusement. "Oh, hush!" She turned to Ksenia as Artemis started undressing.

Had he no shame? Why was he so relaxed about taking his clothes off in front of the seamstress? Her eyes narrowed.

But she put a smile on as she turned to Ksenia. "We'll go to my room, so you get somehow squeeze me in to these ... things."

The witch led Ksenia up the stairs, and as they did, a handsome young Elf was walking down. He stood aside as the two ascended, giving a wide smile. "Now there's a show I wouldn't mind watching!"

Kat glared at him, and carried on. "Shut up, sóa!" She said, using the Elvish for 'idiot'. She glanced back at Ksenia. "Ignore him."

They stepped into her room, and Kat immediately poured two cups of wine. "Not sure if you want any, but I know I will need some! 'Dwarven courage' and all that." She began to unbutton her shirt and skirt, which took a while. She dressed in a modest way bordering on the religious; only her hands, face and half her neck was visible. She even looked uncomfortable undressing in front of Ksenia.

When she was done, she sighed. "Thank you for helping me with this. Okay ... let's make me ... whatever it is that I'm going to end up looking like after we're done!" She gave Ksenia a grim smile.

[Ksenia]

"Sorry, Katarya, but you're going to have to take off everything except the bottom smallclothes, and those may not even get to stay if they're visible." Ksenia grimaced. "Okay... Let's start with the skirt." She helped Katarya step into the skirt and fastened the waistband. "Now for the top. Put your arms in here," she said, holding the garment open. Katarya wriggled into the sleeves and Ksenia helped her pull them up snugly.

Ksenia blew out a breath and bit her lip. "I'll fasten the front, but I'm going to need you to hold your bosom up until I'm done. You shouldn't expose your nipples unless you bend all the way over, but it's, ah, a very revealing design." She knelt down to start fastening the bottom hooks, studiously not looking Katarya in the face. By the time Ksenia had worked her way to the top, Katarya had complied, although not without a severe amount of blushing. "Okay, you can let go." Ksenia wiggled the top of the bodice to settle Katarya's breasts in place. She reached around her waist to tie the black sash in front.

"I'll put your hair up, probably in a low bun. Leave some strands around your face, and curl them if I can. Then I'll pin the cap on," Ksenia said, eyeing the outfit. "Oh, you have a couple pockets and things, mostly in the skirt. All else fails, just drop them -" she mimed dropping something between her breasts. "As long as it's not very bulky, it shouldn't show." She pinned the cap to Katarya's hair. "You should be good now." She turned, found Katarya's cloak and handed it to her. "Lucky it's a bit chilly out, so no one will wonder why you're wearing this. I'll walk over with you and take it just before you get to the house."

[Katarya Frost]

Kat hated the experience in it's entirely. Her usually pale and composed face was beet red, and she didn't say a word other than affirmations during the process.

She had a large mirror (because she was vain), and she turned to it when she was done. Were she anyone else, she migth have thought she looked beautiful; her dark and modest clothing was changed to lighter tones and revealing more of her figure, the hair framing her face softening her usual hard expression ... but Kat felt like a trussed up brothel worker.

"Thank you for your help, she said at last. "You've done great work, here. I might hate it, but I can't deny how well you've done ... I should fit right in with the floozy and air-headed girls who'll no doubt be in attendance."

As suggested, Kat took the dagger and it's sheath from the belt and wedged down beneath her breasts. It wasn't comfortable, but the blade was tiny and after a bit of wriggling, it was invisible.

She turned and sighed. "I'll have to try and focus on the mission, and not punching any man who dares lech over me." She promised. "Okay, let's go."

They headed back downstairs, and Kat walked like she was made of stone, as the eyes of the Elven folk she knew all stared at her in surprise. Raen was about to say something, but the sheer threat in her eyes when she looked at him made him close his mouth, though he continued to grin.

When they entered the back room with Dáire and Artemis, she pulled the cloak Ksenia had allowed her to keep on her, around her body as much as possible. "I'm ready." She said, glumly. "And if any of you boys dare ..."

[Dáire]

Dáire thought his jaw may hit the floor, as his attention came back to the room in time to see Artemis, throwing the bag above Kats' head; the remark about it not being drawn to her almost made he cough out a surprised laugh. What could have happened had the bag not been functioning, didn’t beg to be considered.

At the mention of getting going, as though on a string, Dáire rose from his slouch in the chair, grunting slightly as he rose. Eyes closed as he swayed slightly from the pain, the door behind them clicked, instantly demanding his attention. Where had they gone? Swinging his attention back around to the only one left in the room, he froze; eyes colliding with bare legs and the man currently stripping off clothes, as though they burnt him.
He knew it was invasive that he was watching in such a way, but he couldn’t seem to drag his attention elsewhere. One sharp, snappy movement had the man’s shirt off, leaving his standing in nothing but thin underwear., displaying copious amounts of lean and muscled body on show. Dáire’s brow rose as he watched the man inspecting the outfit he was somehow meant to squeeze into.

“I’ll say.” His voice coming out slightly gruffer than he wanted, in reaction no doubt to the unbidden mental image that arose. When the man went for the rest of his clothing, he had to look away. He didn’t know how serious Kat had been about hexing Artemis but he wasn't going to take the chance of that happening lest she walk back in and find him ogling her lover.

Turning around and pretending to look at a painting, several minutes of muffled sounds and grunting passed before it was deemed safe to turn back around. He couldn’t have kept the grin from his face even if he’d tried his best – which of course he didn’t. The outfit was – well, the workmanship was excellent but it looked tight, really tight. Everything showed. Artemis was in a foul mood, that much was apparent in his movements but a snicker still escaped him. Covering his mouth in a pathetic attempt to hide some of his amusement, he watched, riveted as the man tried to adjust the outfit around a very toned ass. “Lets just hope Kat doesn’t spend all her time staring at your,” He coughed, “blatent assets.”

A few more minutes passed in which he unabashedly watched Artemis fuss with his outfit, until the door snicked once more and Kat came in. His grin widened as he lay eyes on her, “You look … Beautiful my lovely friend.”

[Katarya Frost]

Kat rolled her eyes at Dáire's compliment. She wasn't even girlish enough to take it seriously, as she had never aspired to be anything but powerful through magic and manipulation. It had occured to her only a few times that it could be done so with beauty, but she found that tiresome.

"So do you," she replied, with a slightly smile. "And good luck."

With their farewells done, they each moved off, going their serparate ways having done all they could to prepare.

They left through a back door of the inn, so as not to parade through the main area, and then split off.

Kat watched as Nyx flew along with Dáire and sent a silent prayer to Ny'tha that they be alright, just as she did for herself and Artemis.

The witch and the thief began their walk to the estate of Lord and Lady Dirge, where their preparation would be put to the test.

Kat turned to him as they make their way to their destination. "So what's the plan? We get the lady alone, I cast, you grab, I make some noise, we all escape and become princes and princesses?"

Artemis thought for a moment. "Fire, got to start one in the kitchen. Maybe use the big disorient on the staff there."

She thought about it for a moment. "That could work. So if we do the grab, we'll have to get her as close to the kitchen as possible. I have no idea how long she'll be confused enough to not notice the bracelet missing. Think you can lure her away, Mr. Tight Pants?" She couldn't help but smile.

"If you don't actually touch me until we get there sure. I'm going to tear these damn things apart," he groaned in discomfort and took several awkward steps.

She smiled a little. "I wouldn't say I wouldn't appreciate the view, but it might put our mission in some disarray! And if you are looking for sympathy regarding comfort, never ask a woman who has to basically be sewn into an outfit. I swear these types of clothes are designed by men who hate women!"

"I'm pretty sure that is exactly the case," he replied with a frown. "When this is done, can we have a talk, without wine and well rested? I don't want to lose you because we couldn't figure things out one time." He didn't look at her as he spoke, but there was a clear catch in his throat.

She glanced at him, wanting to give him a hug right then. "Don't worry about us, we're okay. Maybe we need to talk, but we're okay. And we have to focus tonight. We're not lovers while we wear these ridiculous things; we're colleagues. When we get out of them ..." She let herself give him a suggestive smile.

He let out a long slow breath, his features seeming to relax immensely. He visibly went from exhausted and angry to simply calm and a little tired. "Ksenia did say they were single use," he whispered without looking over at her.

Kat let out a soft laugh. "Stop it, I need to focus." She took a deep breath. "My nerves! So ... I'll wait close to the kitchen, you get her to me and I'll take care of it. Then it's your turn; get that bracelet and get it out. I'll go into the kitchen and see if I can't cause a commotion ... if you go through there, you can always use the charm I gave you for extra carnage?"

"I think that'll work, you remember the routes I showed you. Stick to those, maybe look particularly flustered while your returning, as if something was out of place," he said, miming an off-kilter serving tray.

Kat nodded. "Oh you can be sure that I will not even have to act that way! This whole thing is way out of what I normally do! Thank Ny'tha you'll be with me, Artemis." She said, genuinely.

He leaned over and kissed her cheek softly, "Kaxitaki favor us, because I certainly favor you," he said softly, as if a prayer. Then he moved apart from her again, failing to subtly adjust his pants again.

Kat smirked. "Good to see I still have an effect on ... that area." She cleared her throat, as if it would snap her back into being 'professional'. "So, Mr. Black; are we ready?"

"Not in the slightest Miss Frost, but here we are anyway," he said as his cloak of confidence settled on his form. He'd need to be vigorous and polite this evening otherwise the illusion would be quickly broken. "I do hope Dáire's stitching holds up though, I didn't have much to work with," he mumbled more to himself before shaking back into a precise but flamboyant performer's swagger.

Katarya nodded. "Then let's do this, and do it worthy of one of Raen's silly songs." She then tried her best to adopt the persona of 'humble servant', which was a stretch for her. Her smile became a little more cheery, and she forced herself not to walk so proudly. She was just a simple girl about to pour wine for her betters. "On with the show," she whispered, as they finally arrived.

They arrived at the servants entrance. A very severe looking woman, dressed in the same colours as they, but with an air about her that suggested she was 'in charge', looked upon them as they arrived. "You're late," she hissed, giving no thought to the fact that they weren't even in the employ of Lord Dirge. It was perhaps lucky for them that she thought it beneath her to know who the staff were!

Kat felt her heart flutter. "Apologies, we were..."

"I don't care what you were or were not doing, young miss. Now off you go." The woman sniffed and looked away, as if their very presence offended her.

Kat gave Artemis a quick glance and they moved forward.

[Artemis Black]

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Artemis kept his features relaxed and pleasant as he moved into the chaotic kitchen. There were staff everywhere, coordinating in small groups and organizing themselves. The thief quickly scanned the mob of people before setting his sights on a severe looking older man with a well manicured mustache. He was clearly the event director, charged with sweeping the lowly staff into a cohesive whole. He pressed lightly at Katarya’s back to guide her and moved before the man swiftly.

“We were selected to manage the central trays sir. They said to remind you to keep us paired or the extra cost will go to waste,” Artemis said, making solid eye contact with the director. The man seemed offended that a servant, a hireling no less, would dare do such a thing, but there was also a hint of rising pallor in his cheeks. ‘I guessed right, the Lord is known for his odd spending habits and has likely hired specialist pairings in the past,’ Artemis thought to himself as the director cleared his throat.

“And why, may I ask, are you telling me this instead of collecting the trays for drinks?” the man asked imperiously, asserting his control over the situation by slighting them for not predicting their own duties. Artemis simply nodded professionally and spun away to collect a filled drink tray. With his somewhat overloaded collection of fine crystal glasses he moved into the hall.

As Kat took a tray, which she was completely focused on not dropping, a voice called out her name, and her blood ran as cold as her surname.She stopped and looked to a young man dressed in a uniform slightly different to hers; kitchen staff.

“Miss Frost?” He said again. “What’re you doin’ ‘ere?” The man looked puzzled.

Kat opened her mouth to speak, but couldn’t think quick enough.

“It’s me! Martin Bradd. Karl’s mate.”

Kat gave a strained smile. “Martin!” Her heart hammered in her chest and she flicked her eyes to Artemis with a ‘go, I’ll take care of this’ look. Before looking back to Martin. “How good to see you! I see you’ve landed on your feet; working for a lord, and all. Well done.”

But he looked confused. “But you ain’t a servant! What you doing here anyway?”

Artemis stepped into the kitchen boy’s line of sight and leveled a burning glare. “You will not interrupt the specialist staff again, or I will ensure the Lord has your head with the pigs come tomorrow. Is that clear?” Artemis said, his voice a forceful, but not at all quiet, hiss. The director, who had started to come over, nodded, a knowing smirk on his face. Likely believing this was the proper way of the kitchen.

[Katarya Frost]

Armed with trays of fine wines and determination, Artemis Black and Katarya Frost stepped into another world.

The basic kitchens gave way to the grandiosity of a nobleman’s Main Hall. Tables were arranged like boundaries, on which were various food stuffs, exotic fruits, meats, cheeses, strange looking sauces, all interspersed with magnificent flower arrangements.

The room was circular, and the ceiling was a dome, from the centre of which hung a low pendulous construction of crystal, reflecting the light in soft rainbows and glinting flashes on the eye when one moved.

And the people: there were folk here who, with just what they had on their person in terms of clothing and jewellery, could have fed a slum family for a year or more, and well.

Kat glanced to Artemis, then looked ahead. Having him close was comforting, and she felt she could do this. She had been able to care when some drunk had hurt himself fighting and come to her for stitching, so she could pretend to respect these people; the hoarders of wealth and power in the city of Fellsgard.

Still … it stung.

A huge booming laugh caught her attention, and thus, Lord Dirge was revealed.

No man had ever dressed so elaborately. His clothes were made from fine silks, with so many clashing colours that it was almost difficult to look upon! All of this was accented with an array of feathers, jewels and gold that one would not know (if they hadn’t had the intel Dáire had acquired) that this man was actually one of the lesser lords of the city. It seemed that here, appearance meant everything.

While he laughed loudly, telling jokes and preening like a peacock, stood beside his side could only be Lady Dirge, and while he was boisterous and having the time of his life, she looked miserable.

Maybe not frowning or weeping, but it didn’t take much of an empathetic eye to notice that her half-smiles did not reach her eyes, nor did she even speak. She simply nodded along as her husband told jokes and acted like a child in a sweet shop.

Kat could’t nudge Artemis without dropping her drinks, or knocking his out of his hand, so she gave a quiet cough, and nodded in the direction of the lady.

“Girl?”

Kat turned as a woman, sporting a twinkling tiara above a face withered with a thousand frowns, turned one upon the young witch. Kat (as much as she hated doing so) bobbed in a small curtsy, and held out her tray. “Apologies, mi’lady.” She said, trying not to grit her teeth.

She hoped Artemis had gotten the message.

[Ksenia]

As everyone left, Ksenia dropped behind Artemis and Katarya. They were talking; Ksenia remembered that they had fought the night before she’d first gone to the White Hart. She sighed quietly. While she didn’t like Katarya, Artemis did, and Ksenia wanted him to be happy. He’d started to become more of a friend over the past week, and she could see how his uncertainty regarding the relationship between him and Katarya hung on him.

They neared the Dirge house, teeming with activity. Ksenia lengthened her stride to pass near them and hissed as she approached “cloaks!”. They handed them off to her and she bundled them up as she turned away from the main street. Now to get over to Mr. O’Dell’s, and hope that the idols kept them safe.

Ksenia slipped into the alleyway where The Fine Gentleman’s Attire had its back door. She knocked quickly on the back door and it swung open. “They’re off, then?” asked Mr. O’Dell

“Yes.” She shoved the cloaks in a corner. “I want to hope everything will go well. I really do.” She set herself down on the floor, cross-legged, next to the candle. “You don’t have to stay up with me. I’ll get you if I need your help.”

Mr. O’Dell nodded. “I have a cot in the back here that’s seen many a late night. Don’t hesitate if you need assistance.” He disappeared into an alcove that had been curtained off. Ksenia heard wooden joints groan softly as Mr. O’Dell apparently settled. Ksenia pulled out the pieces of linen she’d cut earlier and a needle threaded with pink embroidery silk. She bit her lip, trying not to give in to worry, and began to stitch.

[Dáire]

Pale moonlight cast the estates grounds in an almost ethereal silvery sheen, as it caught and reflected off the light mists that had begun rolling in off the sea. Dáire drifted through the shadows of the elaborate gardens, the light fabric of his cloak catching the breeze and distorting any suggestion of his form. Nyx sat on his shoulder, silent as the night as they navigated the many paths and hedges, drawing ever closer to the scantily guarded door he had scouted previously. The door was one that he now knew led into a pantry of sorts, from where he could easily navigate towards the green house and await the delivery of the bracelet.

Dáire perched himself upon the gable of a nearby garden shed, watching and gauging the actually timing of the few guards that were on patrol this side of the house. It was apparent Lord Dirge or his chief of security did not believe they would see trouble this direction. Many of the guards that he watched pass were large men, and not large in stature either. This that weren’t sporting barrels around their mid sections looked too old to be able to pose any challenge to a street urchin, never mind thieves such as themselves, that were actually targeting such an elaborate affair.

Smiling to himself, he hopped down from the roof and landing on a patch of grass without making a sound. He turned to watch the glossy raven as she re-joined him, “Can you keep an eye ahead for me pretty bird? Make some noise if you think I’ve not spotted someone. I’ll meet you at the greenhouse side door when we’re making our exit.” Nyx softly warbled her understanding, taking to the air in flurry of feathers, soon disappearing into the black of the night.

Taking light, carefully placed stride Dáire made his way along the back of a hedge row, ensconced in heavy shadow as he deftly moved towards the weathered door on the west of the house. Dropping to his haunches, he waited and listened. Leather boots on gravel approached form his right, the steps heavy and unconcerned as the owner trudged along his assigned route. Another lighter set sounded from further up the path, the owner of which should be turning away from him. As soon as he was certain the owner of the heavy boots had turned his next corner, he braced his body to dart across the few feet of path and down the steps into the Alley that ran along the lower level of the home.

Nyx let out a series of shrill calls above him. Dáire froze.

“Wha’ the ‘ell is a filthy crow doin’ out the time o’night?” a low and raspy voice croaked out from mere yards away. Dáire could have kicked himself, how had he not head that mans movement?
“Ain’t no good sign when you see em in the skys’, those magic folk like em birds.” Said another much younger voice. The first man grunted a non-committal response. “Am tellin’ ye! I swears the witches are hiddin’ in the slums, posin as poor people and doing nefarious work at the night!”

If he hadn’t been on a job, he may have sniggered at the young mans assumption, sure there were witches but they weren’t in the slums. He probably bought his groceries and many other daily necessities from them regularly.
“Oi!” A third voice rang out, "What you doin’ standin’ around! I aint paying for your lazy hide to star look all night! You saw the letter from Dorlar,we’re bound to catch thieves tonight. You heard he was found dead this mornin’? Means he were tellin’ the truth!”

The rapid shuffling of clumsy feet allowed Dáire to breath a sigh of relief, a shadow passed over head, Nyx keeping an eye for him again.

Taking a deep breath, he bounded out from behind the hedge again, nothing but a flitting shadow as he hopped down the steps, landing by the old weather door. Turning the surprisingly well-oiled latch, he pushed the door open, listening carefully and disappearing into the shadows beyond.