The White Raven

A Raven And A Rose

The sun had risen but hours before, and yet the streets were swarming with cloaked, hidden figures slinking through the shadows between buildings, praying not to be discovered for who they truly were. No doubt, they feared what might happen should their lovers, employers, or - Gods forbid - enemies discover them here, where each building catered to a different dark desire. 

Underworld was the worse-kept secret in Kingshelm; the realm beneath the realm. 

A place for the darkness within every soul to show. 

Around her, a hundred unknown faces merged and warped in the blackness that was her kind's daylight. Here, where darkness reigned and no light could penetrate the ancient stone, the figures moved with the sort of ease only a Daemon in twilight could achieve. Even if, far across the distant continent, their ancient foes would be rising to sunlight high above in their cities of wind and mist.

The stones below her feet were wet with piss and spilled spirits, the stench a stark reminder of the reality she lived in, the world she had chosen. 

"Don't be shy, lovely," purred a silken voice behind her. "Why don't I show you inside? I promise we don't bite - unless you want us to, of course."

The male circled around her, his face that of a young god with eyes like pools of gold.  He wore Graecian robes, despite the wings tucked at his back, the feline eyes staring into her own like an alley cat discovering a cowering mouse. 

"What makes you think I was intending to go inside?" she asked, voice utterly unimpressed. 

He didn't so much as blink at the tone, but smiled at her instead. "Everyone comes inside, darling. Even you assassins need a bit of fun every now and then."

She didn't ask how he can tell who, what, she is - he could likely smell the death on her.

Her last kill had been but an hour before. 

Still, it had been quite some time since she'd last taken someone to bed, even a whore.

"Fine."

He offered her a hand, which she took, albeit a bit hesitantly, and the two Daemons made their way into the brothel across the street, fashioned to appear as though built from ivory-white marble. Itpatrons simply strolled through a large opening marked by two exquisite pillars that framed the entrance. Inside, the floors were that same pale stone, polished to appear like marble. Everywhere she looked there were young, beautiful people of every race, color, and size. All of them wore the same Graecian robes as the male who lead her across the floor and over to a hauntingly beautiful Graecian female. 

"Looked who finally decided to wonder in," the male said to the stranger, who merely smiled at him. 

"Manners, Sean." She scolded him, and turned to face her guest. "Forgive him, he has no class with such things. I am Rhodanthe, Mistress of this business. How can we service you today, miss?"

For a moment, Faye said nothing, content to study the shorter female's foreign features. Her accent, though understandable, was strong enough that she clearly had not been in Kingshelm but a few decades at most.  

A Queen of gold, locked away in this dank place. 

"I want your best girl," the assassin decides aloud. "I'll pay whatever she requires, but I will accept The Rose or no other."

For she had indeed heard the rumors of the female who had brought Lords to their knees with her...service. No other courtesan could match her, it was said, and so Faye would see for herself if it was true. 

Rhodanthe, to her merit, did not balk. Did not so much as blink at the demand in the assassin's tone. 

She merely bowed her head and gestured with a graceful wave of her golden hand towards the massive set of stairs across The Floor where an attendant waited. "Any room you want is yours, just ask. I will send her to you."

"Don't keep me waiting, I have business to attend to at Noon chime."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Vira had hoped to be done for the night after having to service the Collins boy yet again - for the third time this week. However, she was never one to turn away a paying client, especially when that paying client happened to be one of the most notorious up and coming females in Underworld. Though only having been here but a few short years, the assassin known as The Raven had already made quite a name for herself after taking jobs most others refused to touch. 

She was also said to be incredibly attractive, with hair like moonlight and eyes the color of enchanted ice. 

The moment Vira enters the room, she can see that the rumors do her little justice. 

Upon the massive bed that dominated the room, her lean, powerful body draped across the midnight duvet, was The Raven. At the sight of her, Vira's power comes alive, flowing like mercury through her veins. The assassin is dressed in shadows, the loose fabric of her clothes covering her nearly from the neck down, not even her wrists are bare. 

And at her back, there is only the empty air. 

Wingless, just as the stories claimed.  

"What are you waiting for, an invitation?" The female's voice is cold and smooth, like the surface of a frozen lake. 

It snaps the courtesan out of her trance, that reminder of who she is, what she is here to do. 

So she lowers her lashes, parts her full lips in a lust-addled smile, and makes her way slowly towards that bed.