Post by Jye on Oct 11, 2016 20:40:52 GMT -6
[content warning: strong language, death/murder]
In one of the darkest alleys in the most run-down portion of the city crouched a cat, ink black fur glistening in the fading light. The alley ended there, buildings rising up around it, casting shadows on the cobblestone street. The cat was hunched over, small frame swimming in loose, oversized clothes as they faced the rear wall of the inn that closed off the alley. Before them sat a large pile of refuse - bits of spoiled meat, half-gnawed bones, moldy bread, broken shells and broken glass.
Nezra had grown up on streets like this, and had scavenged many meals from waste piles like this one. Their stomach was strong, and the smell was easily ignored. This evening, however, they were hunting for something other than a meal. The cat scrutinized the pile, eyeing the areas with the most shadow. Suddenly their hands darted out, one heaving waste upward while the other reached into the shadows, grasping at the cockroaches that scampered for new shelter. Their nimble fingers closed around a few insects, and they let the trash fall back into place. With their free hand, they wrestled open a jar and tossed the roaches inside. One of the insects hadn't survived its capture; Nezra reached into the jar, retrieved the insect's corpse, and flicked it aside. They'd been hired to collect roaches - live roaches - as their "employer" had a need for them as part of some greater scheme. Nezra hadn't asked why - they were certainly curious (was it revenge? a set-up? sending a particularly nasty message to someone?) - but it was better not to ask about such things when one hung around a dangerous crowd. They wouldn't complain. Get paid to dig through trash and wrangle roaches? Easiest coin they'd ever earned.
The cat turned their attention back to the jar, raising it up to inspect the roaches within. "Twenty-two...twenty-three...twenty-f--sit still or I can't count you all," they muttered quietly. "You..." they said, addressing a particularly large roach, "You've seen some battles, with your missing antenna and all...you're a fighter. She'll like you." Their client hadn't specified how many roaches she'd wanted, and certainly hadn't specified what temperament they wanted, but she'd specified that she wanted many. The cat assumed she'd be particularly fond of the large roaches, and pondered at what number "some" turned into "many." The jar was perhaps a quarter full, gods only know how many bugs were in there, the damned things wouldn't stop scuttling about. Best keep digging for more.
Nezra set the jar aside, pushing their sleeves up as they prepared to rummage through the filth again. A sound above caught their attention - was it the sound of scraping? Something being dragged? No sooner had the cat looked up then something came down. Nezra leapt back, barely moving out of the way of the falling thing. A body crashed into the waste, and a few moments passed before Nezra's brain processed what before them. They would have asked if he was alright, but the gash across his throat clearly answered that question. "Oh shit..." they said in shock, stepping backward and covering their mouth in revulsion. The cat glanced upward toward the body's origin, in time to briefly lock eyes with a cloaked figure on a balcony, the one that had most likely dispatched and disposed of the unfortunate soul in the rubbish pile. And, Nezra thought as the figure disappeared from view, one that would probably not take kindly to witnesses.
Shit indeed.
In one of the darkest alleys in the most run-down portion of the city crouched a cat, ink black fur glistening in the fading light. The alley ended there, buildings rising up around it, casting shadows on the cobblestone street. The cat was hunched over, small frame swimming in loose, oversized clothes as they faced the rear wall of the inn that closed off the alley. Before them sat a large pile of refuse - bits of spoiled meat, half-gnawed bones, moldy bread, broken shells and broken glass.
Nezra had grown up on streets like this, and had scavenged many meals from waste piles like this one. Their stomach was strong, and the smell was easily ignored. This evening, however, they were hunting for something other than a meal. The cat scrutinized the pile, eyeing the areas with the most shadow. Suddenly their hands darted out, one heaving waste upward while the other reached into the shadows, grasping at the cockroaches that scampered for new shelter. Their nimble fingers closed around a few insects, and they let the trash fall back into place. With their free hand, they wrestled open a jar and tossed the roaches inside. One of the insects hadn't survived its capture; Nezra reached into the jar, retrieved the insect's corpse, and flicked it aside. They'd been hired to collect roaches - live roaches - as their "employer" had a need for them as part of some greater scheme. Nezra hadn't asked why - they were certainly curious (was it revenge? a set-up? sending a particularly nasty message to someone?) - but it was better not to ask about such things when one hung around a dangerous crowd. They wouldn't complain. Get paid to dig through trash and wrangle roaches? Easiest coin they'd ever earned.
The cat turned their attention back to the jar, raising it up to inspect the roaches within. "Twenty-two...twenty-three...twenty-f--sit still or I can't count you all," they muttered quietly. "You..." they said, addressing a particularly large roach, "You've seen some battles, with your missing antenna and all...you're a fighter. She'll like you." Their client hadn't specified how many roaches she'd wanted, and certainly hadn't specified what temperament they wanted, but she'd specified that she wanted many. The cat assumed she'd be particularly fond of the large roaches, and pondered at what number "some" turned into "many." The jar was perhaps a quarter full, gods only know how many bugs were in there, the damned things wouldn't stop scuttling about. Best keep digging for more.
Nezra set the jar aside, pushing their sleeves up as they prepared to rummage through the filth again. A sound above caught their attention - was it the sound of scraping? Something being dragged? No sooner had the cat looked up then something came down. Nezra leapt back, barely moving out of the way of the falling thing. A body crashed into the waste, and a few moments passed before Nezra's brain processed what before them. They would have asked if he was alright, but the gash across his throat clearly answered that question. "Oh shit..." they said in shock, stepping backward and covering their mouth in revulsion. The cat glanced upward toward the body's origin, in time to briefly lock eyes with a cloaked figure on a balcony, the one that had most likely dispatched and disposed of the unfortunate soul in the rubbish pile. And, Nezra thought as the figure disappeared from view, one that would probably not take kindly to witnesses.
Shit indeed.