â—† P R E Y â—†
[ Part Five of Six ]
[ Part Five of Six ]
â”â”â”â”â”â”â”â”â”â”â”â”â”â”â… â€¹ ⧫ › â†â”â”â”â”â”â”â”â”â”â”â”â”â”â”
Author's Note: So uh. You know how I said there were four parts? And then I said there were five parts? Well, now there's six parts, because I keep writing way more than I originally intended. Whoops. I swear I'm almost done, though!
Last part of this story should be somewhat shorter. I originally was going to make it part of this one, but this ended up being too long on its own.
This part has another TRIGGER WARNING for abduction. If that doesn't bother you, click the spoiler tag to read!
â”â”â”â”â”â”â”â”â”â”â”â”â”â”â… â€¹ ⧫ › â†â”â”â”â”â”â”â”â”â”â”â”â”â”â”
[ Warnings: Drugging, abduction. ]
Show Content
SpoilerEverything had seemed to be going their way as Jaliqai, Bayard, and the small handful of the men he had gathered for the job set out for the village of Wyvern's Bluff. The roads had been mostly clear, with few travelers and patroling knights met along the way. Even the snows seemed to allow them to pass without interruption, the heavy snowflakes gently floating down from the sky instead of howling and swirling around them as the Auri woman had half expected to happen.
They had made great time, having left before the rising of the sun and arriving before the last rays of sunlight sunk below the horizon on the next day. It put them in a good position, allowing them to scout out the area around the village and discretely survey the layout of streets and pathways within before it was time to set their plan into motion.
If the rumor was true, tonight would be the night that Ghost crept into the town, silent as the spirit that all who had heard of him likened him to. In and out, he would come and leave without anyone's notice, taking with him anything that caught his eye. Anyone that caught his eye.
All she had to do was to look appealing, like easy prey ripe for the snatching. Jaliqai's stomach turned at the thought, but she forced her mind away from it. Bayard would be watching, and the others would be lingering about the village to cut him off, just in case.
Still, she couldn't stop her hand from tightening over the knife tucked into the loose-fitting jacket that she had slipped on until her knuckles had nearly turned white. Only the feeling of a warm hand on her arm snapped her out of it, golden eyes moving up to meet Bayard's.
"You alright, Red?" His tone was every bit as concerned as his gaze. He squeezed her arm lightly. "Don't worry. Nothin' will happen, I promise."
She stared at him and the nerves slowly, but surely melted away. Her hand rose up to rest on his own.
"Aye, I'm fine," she answered quietly.
The Highlander gently pulled back, looking her over. Appraising. They had found a nice set of traveling leathers and furs for her, sturdy and warm enough to look practical but still feminine. Unimposing enough to make her seem like an easy and attractive target, yet not so obvious as to rouse suspicion. His concern shifted to approval the longer he looked at her, lips pulling into a slight smirk as he gave her a nod.
"No way Ghost will be able to pass up the sight of you, love. Or any man, for that matter."
"Leave your bloody flirting until after the job," she grumbled, though the hint of red that rushed to the apples of her cheeks spoke a different story.
"Right, right.." He gave her a soft chuckle. "Still, there's something missing."
Her brows furrowed in confusion as she looked at him. Reaching into an inner pocket, the man produced a small, seemingly hand-made wooden box. He held it out for her to take. After eyeing it for a long moment, she reached out to take it in her hands.
"Found it in one of the market stalls when we were scoutin' it out," he explained. "Thought it might suit you." He lifted a hand, motioning to his eyes. "Goes well with your eyes, or somethin'."
The Auri woman looked down to the box, running her fingers over the smooth wood before flipping the loose metal latch and opening it. Inside was a small, dark leather bracelet. Someone had obviously spent much time and taken great care in its crafting, intricate patterns burned into the wristband, all branching out from a smooth yellow-gold gemstone set into the center.
Her breath caught in her throat as she turned it over in her hands. Her fingers brushed the stone. Once again the warmth came back to her cheeks with a vengeance. No one had ever given her such a gift before.
"Here." He held out his hand for it. "Let me put it on for you, yeah?"
She nodded, handing it to him and leaving her wrist outstretched. Watching him secure it there with great care. Once it was in place, she could practically feel the comforting, calming warmth that started at her wrist and traveled up her arm, enveloping her. Was it the bracelet? Or was it just the unfamiliar feeling of receiving such a gift? She didn't know.
"You like it?" He cleared his throat, sitting back, arms crossing over his chest. "How's it fit? You're a tiny thing, wasn't sure if it'd be too big or.."
Her eyes rose from the wristband to the man sitting across from her in the back of the carriage. She couldn't stop the corners of her lips from pulling into a slow smile, seeing him. In all the time that they had spent together, she had never seen Bayard as anxious as he was now. He was always so charming and smooth-talking with women, but this seemed to be something new to him as well.
"It's beautiful, and it fits just fine." She leaned in slightly, giving him a teasing look. "I'm impressed with your fashion sense, is all."
"An unexpected talent of mine, I guess." Bayard seemed to relax at the answer, his easy smile returning. He watched her with a softness she'd never seen before. "I know how you feel about jobs like this, and I hate that I had to ask you to do it." He hesitated slightly. "So, don't take it off, alright? It'll remind you that I'm always at your back."
The Xaela pushed herself up from the wooden seat, stepping closer and leaning over to brush her lips against his briefly. The touch still sent shiver down her spine, like she was a young, innocent girl instead of a woman long since grown.
"I won't," she promised as she straightened, turning to look towards the canvas hanging over the carriage's exit. "Now.. Let's get this over with."
He nodded and pushed himself up from his seat as well, catching her before she could slip away from the privacy of the carriage to carefully pull her back to him. His lips found her own again, a deeper kiss pressed to them, slow and lingering until they had to part again.
"Be careful, love," he murmured, stepping back and motioning for her to take the lead.
And so began the hunt. Hopping down from the back of the wagon, Jaliqai's eyes squinted at the last bits of sunlight reflecting against the blinding whiteness of the snow in the streets, coating the buildings.
Wyvern's Bluff was a far cry from the sprawling cities that she had grown accustomed to in more recent history. Yet still, as far as mountain villages went, it was larger and far more populated than she had expected. A lot of travelers stopping before they passed through the mountains further to the south and west, she figured.
Numerous buildings and cottages dotted the cobblestone streets, providing plenty of places to hide, alcoves to tuck oneself into to watch and listen. To hunt without being noticed. Little wonder that Ghost had set his sights on this place.
She sucked in a deep breath and held it, slowly exhaling, her hand coming to rest on the leather band at her wrist. She was not prey, just playing the part. Reassuring herself, she took her first step forward, then another, and another.
Bells passed since she had begun walking, wandering the streets and trying to look busy. Forcing the tension out of her body, even when the feeling of unseen eyes lingered upon her. Making herself resist the temptation to look back and see if Bayard was still there when she passed each corner expecting to feel hands grabbing and pulling at her.
Yet it never came. She had wandered through the markets, down the streets, even taken a few detours through the more secluded alleyways. Nothing. Now the last few strands of light were falling over the horizon, casting an orange-red glow over everything. Night would arrive soon, and she had nothing to show for it.
The cold was starting to seep in past her leathers, chilling her to the bone. Leaving her stiff and aching. Her throat was dry, and lips beginning to crack. Spotting a tavern, the Qulaani woman considered it. A quick drink, something stout and warm, and back onto the streets she would go to keep searching. Bayard likely wouldn't be able to follow her all the way in here, but as crowded as it was, it seemed safe. Hardly a place for a kidnapping.
Eyes immediately turned towards her as she stepped into the tavern, watching her warily, hushed whispers passed between patrons. It took only a glance for the woman to realize that she was the only Au Ra there, unsurprisingly. Her stomach tightened with her nerves, remembering the Brume.
Sidling up to the bar, she waved for the older Midlander man behind it. He looked down to her, regarding her coldly for a moment, before returning to cleaning the glass in his hand. She frowned lightly, insistently moving closer.
"I'd like a glass of whiskey," she stated once she was clearly within the man's field of view. He looked up again, eyes narrowed at her.
"And I'd like it if the snows would melt and the sun would shine," he snapped back at her. "But it's still cold out as the Fury's steel, and like to stay that way."
Jaliqai scowled. She hated Ishgardians, truly, with all of their sourness and bigotry. Reaching down to her coinpurse, she plucked out far more than enough coin, holding it up for him to see.
"Whiskey," she repeated firmly. Maybe money would talk as loudly here as it did back in the desert. After staring at it, the man rose a hand and waved her off. Clearly, it didn't.
"Sod off."
For a moment, she considered arguing. Yet looking down the bar at the faces staring back at her with just as much distaste, she knew it was a losing battle. A stupid battle. Gritting her teeth, she stashed her money again and turned, instead making her way to an empty table off to the corner, close to a barely burning hearth. If she couldn't have her drink, at least she would warm up a bit before heading back out into the cold.
Minutes passed as she watched the fire with narrowed eyes, anger seething within her just below the surface, pulling her mind away from the job at hand. Only when the sound of a glass clinking against the table in front of her reached her did she look back, first to the glass half-filled with liquor, then to the man now standing beside her table.
Elezen, tall, and looking to be at least slightly older than herself. Unlike most of the lighter skinned lot here, his was the color of cooled charcoals with dark blue-grey eyes that matched and a dark, short head of hair. Duskwight, by the looks of it. He offered her a small, polite nod in greeting.
"Couldn't help but overhear." He glanced over his shoulder towards the rest of the tavern. A few more eyes lingered on them. If he was bothered by it, it didn't show, simply turning forward and looking down to the drink he'd sat in front of her. "Whiskey, right? Go ahead."
She looked down to the glass, staring at it as she thought it over. After a long moment, she looked back up to him.
"Nothing is free. What do you want?"
The Elezen man let out an amused chuckle, pulling out one of the old wooden chairs and sinking down into it with a sigh. He took a sip of his own drink, and shook his head.
"Nothing but some company, I suppose. I just sympathized, is all." He shrugged a shoulder. "Been there before myself."
"Says the person that they'll still serve, apparently," Jaliqai answered, a bit more of an edge to her voice than she had intended. The man hardly seemed bothered, reclining back in his chair.
"This place will, yes. Duskwights aren't so uncommon around these parts, given this is House Dzemael land. But I've seen much travel, and I've been refused my share of food, drink, and inn rooms." He paused. "Carrilaut." Her brows furrowed, not understanding. Earning her another good-natured laugh from the man. "Carrilaut Brenaile. My name."
The Xaela eyed him for a long moment, sizing him up. His gaze remained on her, never venturing away. He had a cool confidence about him. The same sort of air she would expect of someone who had been in her shoes and had learned to let the insults and the like roll right off him. Not like the rest of the Ishgardians that had stared at her like she was so far below them.
"Red," she offered, picking up the glass. Swirling it around, she lifted it to her lips and took a small sip. Her nose immediately wrinkled in distaste. "Gods, this is the bloody worst drink I've ever tasted."
"What did you expect?" Carrilaut chuckled, shaking his head. "Best to tip it up at once. It's vile stuff, but it takes the cold right out of your bones, at least."
"And the skin off your throat, besides." Jaliqai gave the glass another look, before more cautiously lifting it to her lips. After a brief hint of hesitation, she tilted it up and let her head fall back, swallowing the foul tasting liquor as quickly as she could manage.
Her glass made a loud noise as she hastily returned it to the table, coughing alongside the hearty laugh from the older Elezen man. Slowly, her face returned to normal, even though tears had begun to sting at the corners of her eyes.
"So, Red," he began, watching her. "What is it that brings you up this far north?"
"Traveling," she answered shortly, repeating the story that she and Bayard had concocted, voice still a bit husky from the lingering burn of the drink. "That's what my kind do. Move around."
"And you couldn't pick a better place to wander?" His brows lofted in mild surprise. "Coerthas is dangerous land. At least tell me you've companions to share the road with."
"I'm more the type that likes to travel alone." She shook her head, a bit too fast. A touch of dizziness hit her. As awful as it tasted, at least the whiskey was strong. She closed her eyes momentarily, to get the sensation to subside. Carrilaut frowned at her.
"Travel alone through lands filled with Dravanians and plenty other wild beasts besides, and people who wouldn't so much as lift a finger for an Au Ra in trouble." He shook his head. "You're either very capable, or very stupid. I can't tell which."
"I know my way 'round a blade," she began to answer, albeit slowly. "I can take care of myself."
"Well.. You're confident, I'll allow you that."
"What about.. you?" She asked, struggling slightly with the last word. Her tail gave an irritated flick at the way her mind seemed to slow. It was just one bloody drink.
"Travel," he echoed right back to her. "Unlike you, though, I don't make a habit of traveling alone. Not too good with a weapon. Better with words and persuasion than with violence, which usually keeps me out of trouble. But it's decidedly harder, talking down a dragon what wants to make you its supper."
She made to let out a laugh, but the sound didn't come out. Perplexed, the Auri woman tried to lift a hand to her throat. Yet her whole body felt oddly heavy. Her vision was beginning to blur. Was she drunk? It was just one drink.
Drink..
No, she wasn't drunk, but she was beyond stupid.
Her mouth opened and moved again, wordless. Seeing it, the Duskwight's lips curled up into a pleased smirk. He leaned in slightly across the table, dropping his voice low for just the two of them.
"I know my way around poisons, too. Silencing and sleeping poisons, for example. Mix them with strong liquor, especially when consumed quickly, makes them quite potent and quick." He reached out, head canting slightly to the side. The look in his eyes was different now. His fingers brushed against her cheek with an almost sickening fascination, tracing over the black scales beneath her eyes. "A shame that dragons aren't near so fond of whiskey as you are."
Her mind urged her hand to grab for her knife, but her whole body was heavy, sluggish. Unresponsive. Her vision was darkening at the edges, and everything felt like it was moving around her. She couldn't so much as spit a curse at him, barely even able to follow him with her eyes as he rose from the table and moved to her side.
"Come on. Let's get you out of here." He smiled warmly as he draped an arm around her, carefully trying to get her up and guide her away. She could still move enough to keep her feet underneath her, almost instinctively. Though she found herself leaning in heavily to his side. She felt sick, angry.
No wonder Ghost managed to slip in and out without being caught. It made sense now. He was smooth and smart, calculating. He didn't snatch women off the street like a common thug. He spirited them away right under people's noses, the last place they would expect to look. He wasn't just a bandit. He was a hunter. A predator.
Her eyes struggled to focus, desperately looking around the tavern as she was carefully led out by the man who had drugged her. She could swear that she made eye contact with a few patrons. Yet not a soul stood up to help her, just as he had said. They leered back at her with disdain, derision. At least, she thought they did. She squeezed her eyes shut tightly.
Bayard. He would be lingering outside, waiting for her. A few steps more, and the Highlander would free her from this man. Opening her eyes, she stared at the door as they approached. Soon.
The icy chill of the wind sent an involuntary shudder throughout her body as the door swung open, her would-be captor pulling her closer to him as they started out onto the street. Her eyes wandered once more, still unfocused, searching. Ghost made his way down the street, in the direction of an alleyway where it seemed few gazes were turned.
Where? Where was he?
Finally, she found him. Bayard was leaned back against the corner of a nearby building within clear sight of the tavern. Just as he had said, he was there. Relief flooded over her as her golden eyes met his brown ones. Held his gaze.
But.. why wasn't he moving? She stared at him, expression blank from the effect of the drugs. Didn't he see her? He had to have seen her. He was supposed to be watching her back. He had promised her that he would. That he would stop this man as soon as he thought to make prey of her.
And there he stood. Watching. Unmoving. She strained to keep her sights on him, desperately imploring him to come to her aid, until the Elezen turned the corner into the alley. Jaliqai couldn't see her partner any longer.
Why? Why didn't he come for her? She didn't understand. His promise.. What had she done wrong? Why was he allowing their mark to capture her, take her away?
The devastation and fear hit her like a tonze of brick dropped upon her shoulders, taking her already weak legs out from under her. Ghost let out a grunt as she stumbled, shifting his weight to scoop her smaller frame up into his arms. Holding her close to his chest.
"Sleep now, pet," he crooned to her. "When you wake up, you'll be in a place where you don't have to suffer those bastards' glares anymore."
No. As intense as the fear was in her breast, she couldn't stop the effects of the poison. Her head bobbed as she fought it, trying to stay awake. Clinging with tooth and claw to consciousness as best she could.
Still, she began to fade in and out, bits and pieces of changing scenery and sounds mixed in with momentary flashes of blackness that grew longer and longer. The sound of Ghost's footsteps on the cobblestones. Murmured, unintelligible voices. The smell of chocobos. Canvas being drawn back. Quiet laughter, more talking. The cool feeling of the wood beneath her cheek and the vague sensation of movement as the carriage began to roll away.
Then, finally, a deep and uneasy darkness that gripped her tight and pulled her under. Sleep.
They had made great time, having left before the rising of the sun and arriving before the last rays of sunlight sunk below the horizon on the next day. It put them in a good position, allowing them to scout out the area around the village and discretely survey the layout of streets and pathways within before it was time to set their plan into motion.
If the rumor was true, tonight would be the night that Ghost crept into the town, silent as the spirit that all who had heard of him likened him to. In and out, he would come and leave without anyone's notice, taking with him anything that caught his eye. Anyone that caught his eye.
All she had to do was to look appealing, like easy prey ripe for the snatching. Jaliqai's stomach turned at the thought, but she forced her mind away from it. Bayard would be watching, and the others would be lingering about the village to cut him off, just in case.
Still, she couldn't stop her hand from tightening over the knife tucked into the loose-fitting jacket that she had slipped on until her knuckles had nearly turned white. Only the feeling of a warm hand on her arm snapped her out of it, golden eyes moving up to meet Bayard's.
"You alright, Red?" His tone was every bit as concerned as his gaze. He squeezed her arm lightly. "Don't worry. Nothin' will happen, I promise."
She stared at him and the nerves slowly, but surely melted away. Her hand rose up to rest on his own.
"Aye, I'm fine," she answered quietly.
The Highlander gently pulled back, looking her over. Appraising. They had found a nice set of traveling leathers and furs for her, sturdy and warm enough to look practical but still feminine. Unimposing enough to make her seem like an easy and attractive target, yet not so obvious as to rouse suspicion. His concern shifted to approval the longer he looked at her, lips pulling into a slight smirk as he gave her a nod.
"No way Ghost will be able to pass up the sight of you, love. Or any man, for that matter."
"Leave your bloody flirting until after the job," she grumbled, though the hint of red that rushed to the apples of her cheeks spoke a different story.
"Right, right.." He gave her a soft chuckle. "Still, there's something missing."
Her brows furrowed in confusion as she looked at him. Reaching into an inner pocket, the man produced a small, seemingly hand-made wooden box. He held it out for her to take. After eyeing it for a long moment, she reached out to take it in her hands.
"Found it in one of the market stalls when we were scoutin' it out," he explained. "Thought it might suit you." He lifted a hand, motioning to his eyes. "Goes well with your eyes, or somethin'."
The Auri woman looked down to the box, running her fingers over the smooth wood before flipping the loose metal latch and opening it. Inside was a small, dark leather bracelet. Someone had obviously spent much time and taken great care in its crafting, intricate patterns burned into the wristband, all branching out from a smooth yellow-gold gemstone set into the center.
Her breath caught in her throat as she turned it over in her hands. Her fingers brushed the stone. Once again the warmth came back to her cheeks with a vengeance. No one had ever given her such a gift before.
"Here." He held out his hand for it. "Let me put it on for you, yeah?"
She nodded, handing it to him and leaving her wrist outstretched. Watching him secure it there with great care. Once it was in place, she could practically feel the comforting, calming warmth that started at her wrist and traveled up her arm, enveloping her. Was it the bracelet? Or was it just the unfamiliar feeling of receiving such a gift? She didn't know.
"You like it?" He cleared his throat, sitting back, arms crossing over his chest. "How's it fit? You're a tiny thing, wasn't sure if it'd be too big or.."
Her eyes rose from the wristband to the man sitting across from her in the back of the carriage. She couldn't stop the corners of her lips from pulling into a slow smile, seeing him. In all the time that they had spent together, she had never seen Bayard as anxious as he was now. He was always so charming and smooth-talking with women, but this seemed to be something new to him as well.
"It's beautiful, and it fits just fine." She leaned in slightly, giving him a teasing look. "I'm impressed with your fashion sense, is all."
"An unexpected talent of mine, I guess." Bayard seemed to relax at the answer, his easy smile returning. He watched her with a softness she'd never seen before. "I know how you feel about jobs like this, and I hate that I had to ask you to do it." He hesitated slightly. "So, don't take it off, alright? It'll remind you that I'm always at your back."
The Xaela pushed herself up from the wooden seat, stepping closer and leaning over to brush her lips against his briefly. The touch still sent shiver down her spine, like she was a young, innocent girl instead of a woman long since grown.
"I won't," she promised as she straightened, turning to look towards the canvas hanging over the carriage's exit. "Now.. Let's get this over with."
He nodded and pushed himself up from his seat as well, catching her before she could slip away from the privacy of the carriage to carefully pull her back to him. His lips found her own again, a deeper kiss pressed to them, slow and lingering until they had to part again.
"Be careful, love," he murmured, stepping back and motioning for her to take the lead.
And so began the hunt. Hopping down from the back of the wagon, Jaliqai's eyes squinted at the last bits of sunlight reflecting against the blinding whiteness of the snow in the streets, coating the buildings.
Wyvern's Bluff was a far cry from the sprawling cities that she had grown accustomed to in more recent history. Yet still, as far as mountain villages went, it was larger and far more populated than she had expected. A lot of travelers stopping before they passed through the mountains further to the south and west, she figured.
Numerous buildings and cottages dotted the cobblestone streets, providing plenty of places to hide, alcoves to tuck oneself into to watch and listen. To hunt without being noticed. Little wonder that Ghost had set his sights on this place.
She sucked in a deep breath and held it, slowly exhaling, her hand coming to rest on the leather band at her wrist. She was not prey, just playing the part. Reassuring herself, she took her first step forward, then another, and another.
Bells passed since she had begun walking, wandering the streets and trying to look busy. Forcing the tension out of her body, even when the feeling of unseen eyes lingered upon her. Making herself resist the temptation to look back and see if Bayard was still there when she passed each corner expecting to feel hands grabbing and pulling at her.
Yet it never came. She had wandered through the markets, down the streets, even taken a few detours through the more secluded alleyways. Nothing. Now the last few strands of light were falling over the horizon, casting an orange-red glow over everything. Night would arrive soon, and she had nothing to show for it.
The cold was starting to seep in past her leathers, chilling her to the bone. Leaving her stiff and aching. Her throat was dry, and lips beginning to crack. Spotting a tavern, the Qulaani woman considered it. A quick drink, something stout and warm, and back onto the streets she would go to keep searching. Bayard likely wouldn't be able to follow her all the way in here, but as crowded as it was, it seemed safe. Hardly a place for a kidnapping.
Eyes immediately turned towards her as she stepped into the tavern, watching her warily, hushed whispers passed between patrons. It took only a glance for the woman to realize that she was the only Au Ra there, unsurprisingly. Her stomach tightened with her nerves, remembering the Brume.
Sidling up to the bar, she waved for the older Midlander man behind it. He looked down to her, regarding her coldly for a moment, before returning to cleaning the glass in his hand. She frowned lightly, insistently moving closer.
"I'd like a glass of whiskey," she stated once she was clearly within the man's field of view. He looked up again, eyes narrowed at her.
"And I'd like it if the snows would melt and the sun would shine," he snapped back at her. "But it's still cold out as the Fury's steel, and like to stay that way."
Jaliqai scowled. She hated Ishgardians, truly, with all of their sourness and bigotry. Reaching down to her coinpurse, she plucked out far more than enough coin, holding it up for him to see.
"Whiskey," she repeated firmly. Maybe money would talk as loudly here as it did back in the desert. After staring at it, the man rose a hand and waved her off. Clearly, it didn't.
"Sod off."
For a moment, she considered arguing. Yet looking down the bar at the faces staring back at her with just as much distaste, she knew it was a losing battle. A stupid battle. Gritting her teeth, she stashed her money again and turned, instead making her way to an empty table off to the corner, close to a barely burning hearth. If she couldn't have her drink, at least she would warm up a bit before heading back out into the cold.
Minutes passed as she watched the fire with narrowed eyes, anger seething within her just below the surface, pulling her mind away from the job at hand. Only when the sound of a glass clinking against the table in front of her reached her did she look back, first to the glass half-filled with liquor, then to the man now standing beside her table.
Elezen, tall, and looking to be at least slightly older than herself. Unlike most of the lighter skinned lot here, his was the color of cooled charcoals with dark blue-grey eyes that matched and a dark, short head of hair. Duskwight, by the looks of it. He offered her a small, polite nod in greeting.
"Couldn't help but overhear." He glanced over his shoulder towards the rest of the tavern. A few more eyes lingered on them. If he was bothered by it, it didn't show, simply turning forward and looking down to the drink he'd sat in front of her. "Whiskey, right? Go ahead."
She looked down to the glass, staring at it as she thought it over. After a long moment, she looked back up to him.
"Nothing is free. What do you want?"
The Elezen man let out an amused chuckle, pulling out one of the old wooden chairs and sinking down into it with a sigh. He took a sip of his own drink, and shook his head.
"Nothing but some company, I suppose. I just sympathized, is all." He shrugged a shoulder. "Been there before myself."
"Says the person that they'll still serve, apparently," Jaliqai answered, a bit more of an edge to her voice than she had intended. The man hardly seemed bothered, reclining back in his chair.
"This place will, yes. Duskwights aren't so uncommon around these parts, given this is House Dzemael land. But I've seen much travel, and I've been refused my share of food, drink, and inn rooms." He paused. "Carrilaut." Her brows furrowed, not understanding. Earning her another good-natured laugh from the man. "Carrilaut Brenaile. My name."
The Xaela eyed him for a long moment, sizing him up. His gaze remained on her, never venturing away. He had a cool confidence about him. The same sort of air she would expect of someone who had been in her shoes and had learned to let the insults and the like roll right off him. Not like the rest of the Ishgardians that had stared at her like she was so far below them.
"Red," she offered, picking up the glass. Swirling it around, she lifted it to her lips and took a small sip. Her nose immediately wrinkled in distaste. "Gods, this is the bloody worst drink I've ever tasted."
"What did you expect?" Carrilaut chuckled, shaking his head. "Best to tip it up at once. It's vile stuff, but it takes the cold right out of your bones, at least."
"And the skin off your throat, besides." Jaliqai gave the glass another look, before more cautiously lifting it to her lips. After a brief hint of hesitation, she tilted it up and let her head fall back, swallowing the foul tasting liquor as quickly as she could manage.
Her glass made a loud noise as she hastily returned it to the table, coughing alongside the hearty laugh from the older Elezen man. Slowly, her face returned to normal, even though tears had begun to sting at the corners of her eyes.
"So, Red," he began, watching her. "What is it that brings you up this far north?"
"Traveling," she answered shortly, repeating the story that she and Bayard had concocted, voice still a bit husky from the lingering burn of the drink. "That's what my kind do. Move around."
"And you couldn't pick a better place to wander?" His brows lofted in mild surprise. "Coerthas is dangerous land. At least tell me you've companions to share the road with."
"I'm more the type that likes to travel alone." She shook her head, a bit too fast. A touch of dizziness hit her. As awful as it tasted, at least the whiskey was strong. She closed her eyes momentarily, to get the sensation to subside. Carrilaut frowned at her.
"Travel alone through lands filled with Dravanians and plenty other wild beasts besides, and people who wouldn't so much as lift a finger for an Au Ra in trouble." He shook his head. "You're either very capable, or very stupid. I can't tell which."
"I know my way 'round a blade," she began to answer, albeit slowly. "I can take care of myself."
"Well.. You're confident, I'll allow you that."
"What about.. you?" She asked, struggling slightly with the last word. Her tail gave an irritated flick at the way her mind seemed to slow. It was just one bloody drink.
"Travel," he echoed right back to her. "Unlike you, though, I don't make a habit of traveling alone. Not too good with a weapon. Better with words and persuasion than with violence, which usually keeps me out of trouble. But it's decidedly harder, talking down a dragon what wants to make you its supper."
She made to let out a laugh, but the sound didn't come out. Perplexed, the Auri woman tried to lift a hand to her throat. Yet her whole body felt oddly heavy. Her vision was beginning to blur. Was she drunk? It was just one drink.
Drink..
No, she wasn't drunk, but she was beyond stupid.
Her mouth opened and moved again, wordless. Seeing it, the Duskwight's lips curled up into a pleased smirk. He leaned in slightly across the table, dropping his voice low for just the two of them.
"I know my way around poisons, too. Silencing and sleeping poisons, for example. Mix them with strong liquor, especially when consumed quickly, makes them quite potent and quick." He reached out, head canting slightly to the side. The look in his eyes was different now. His fingers brushed against her cheek with an almost sickening fascination, tracing over the black scales beneath her eyes. "A shame that dragons aren't near so fond of whiskey as you are."
Her mind urged her hand to grab for her knife, but her whole body was heavy, sluggish. Unresponsive. Her vision was darkening at the edges, and everything felt like it was moving around her. She couldn't so much as spit a curse at him, barely even able to follow him with her eyes as he rose from the table and moved to her side.
"Come on. Let's get you out of here." He smiled warmly as he draped an arm around her, carefully trying to get her up and guide her away. She could still move enough to keep her feet underneath her, almost instinctively. Though she found herself leaning in heavily to his side. She felt sick, angry.
No wonder Ghost managed to slip in and out without being caught. It made sense now. He was smooth and smart, calculating. He didn't snatch women off the street like a common thug. He spirited them away right under people's noses, the last place they would expect to look. He wasn't just a bandit. He was a hunter. A predator.
Her eyes struggled to focus, desperately looking around the tavern as she was carefully led out by the man who had drugged her. She could swear that she made eye contact with a few patrons. Yet not a soul stood up to help her, just as he had said. They leered back at her with disdain, derision. At least, she thought they did. She squeezed her eyes shut tightly.
Bayard. He would be lingering outside, waiting for her. A few steps more, and the Highlander would free her from this man. Opening her eyes, she stared at the door as they approached. Soon.
The icy chill of the wind sent an involuntary shudder throughout her body as the door swung open, her would-be captor pulling her closer to him as they started out onto the street. Her eyes wandered once more, still unfocused, searching. Ghost made his way down the street, in the direction of an alleyway where it seemed few gazes were turned.
Where? Where was he?
Finally, she found him. Bayard was leaned back against the corner of a nearby building within clear sight of the tavern. Just as he had said, he was there. Relief flooded over her as her golden eyes met his brown ones. Held his gaze.
But.. why wasn't he moving? She stared at him, expression blank from the effect of the drugs. Didn't he see her? He had to have seen her. He was supposed to be watching her back. He had promised her that he would. That he would stop this man as soon as he thought to make prey of her.
And there he stood. Watching. Unmoving. She strained to keep her sights on him, desperately imploring him to come to her aid, until the Elezen turned the corner into the alley. Jaliqai couldn't see her partner any longer.
Why? Why didn't he come for her? She didn't understand. His promise.. What had she done wrong? Why was he allowing their mark to capture her, take her away?
The devastation and fear hit her like a tonze of brick dropped upon her shoulders, taking her already weak legs out from under her. Ghost let out a grunt as she stumbled, shifting his weight to scoop her smaller frame up into his arms. Holding her close to his chest.
"Sleep now, pet," he crooned to her. "When you wake up, you'll be in a place where you don't have to suffer those bastards' glares anymore."
No. As intense as the fear was in her breast, she couldn't stop the effects of the poison. Her head bobbed as she fought it, trying to stay awake. Clinging with tooth and claw to consciousness as best she could.
Still, she began to fade in and out, bits and pieces of changing scenery and sounds mixed in with momentary flashes of blackness that grew longer and longer. The sound of Ghost's footsteps on the cobblestones. Murmured, unintelligible voices. The smell of chocobos. Canvas being drawn back. Quiet laughter, more talking. The cool feeling of the wood beneath her cheek and the vague sensation of movement as the carriage began to roll away.
Then, finally, a deep and uneasy darkness that gripped her tight and pulled her under. Sleep.
