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Khanh sat at the feet of a tall, beautiful statue of a goddess whose name he did not know. An apple in hand and his back against the statue’s legs, his own legs stretched out before him as he gave an expansive sweep of the main room with his arm. “Behold, Akhmad. The very picture of stupidity,” he said in a calm whisper.
No one lived here. Maybe servants, but none awake, so far as he could tell, and definitely none expecting company. This house, so far as he’d been able to work out, stood empty and alone, day after day, being only minimally cared for, with treasures and prized positions collecting dust. Such a shame. A house full of exquisite pieces of beauty and no one to admire them. That was why he’d decided to bring Akhmad. The man could keep a secret, if he chose.
Khanh’s eyes followed his companion as he took in their surroundings but at last the larger man stood, biting into his apple, and chewing thoughtfully. The bite was unusually loud in the echoing space and the chewing, something that might not be an issue somewhere else, was all Khanh could think about. He pulled his apple away from his mouth, looking at it, then flicking his eyes at Akhmad to see how he bore the sound. With careful consideration for the other man, Khanh took great care to chew slowly, reducing the sound as much as he was able, until he swallowed and then held out the apple.
“I don’t suppose you can chew any softer?” he arched an eyebrow. “You’re awful bossy for a mute.” He sighed and took another bite of the apple, this one less loud but whether that was due to his moderation of his own gusto or the fact that he was now walking, and therefore adding different sound to the room, he wasn’t sure. This place had once been very grand, but with sheets covering tables and decorations, and rugs rolled up and placed in darkened vaults for safe keeping, it looked more like a gorgeous tomb.
Moonlight poured in through several windows but it wasn't enough to offset the deep shadows that filled the corners. Unwilling to light a candle, Khanh trusted that they'd be able to find something they wanted anyway. They did not always have light to see by, while they worked. A hazard of taking things that weren't theirs by rights.
“What say we explore a bit?” Khanh looked over his shoulder at Akhmad as he lifted the corner of a sheet. “If we happen to find something we just have to have, so be it.” He shrugged, grinned, and bit into his apple again.
They were not here in Colchis just to break into random houses and steal random things. That could be done in any city, but what they were here for would not come to pass for several days and Khanh was growing restless. The last thing he wanted to do was be cooped up in their hideout with Somra's whining and Zai's fretting and Tiye's medicines. Though he owed Tiye a great deal, the herbs smelled funny and made the hideout a little too medicinal. This was for a bit of fun.
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Khanh sat at the feet of a tall, beautiful statue of a goddess whose name he did not know. An apple in hand and his back against the statue’s legs, his own legs stretched out before him as he gave an expansive sweep of the main room with his arm. “Behold, Akhmad. The very picture of stupidity,” he said in a calm whisper.
No one lived here. Maybe servants, but none awake, so far as he could tell, and definitely none expecting company. This house, so far as he’d been able to work out, stood empty and alone, day after day, being only minimally cared for, with treasures and prized positions collecting dust. Such a shame. A house full of exquisite pieces of beauty and no one to admire them. That was why he’d decided to bring Akhmad. The man could keep a secret, if he chose.
Khanh’s eyes followed his companion as he took in their surroundings but at last the larger man stood, biting into his apple, and chewing thoughtfully. The bite was unusually loud in the echoing space and the chewing, something that might not be an issue somewhere else, was all Khanh could think about. He pulled his apple away from his mouth, looking at it, then flicking his eyes at Akhmad to see how he bore the sound. With careful consideration for the other man, Khanh took great care to chew slowly, reducing the sound as much as he was able, until he swallowed and then held out the apple.
“I don’t suppose you can chew any softer?” he arched an eyebrow. “You’re awful bossy for a mute.” He sighed and took another bite of the apple, this one less loud but whether that was due to his moderation of his own gusto or the fact that he was now walking, and therefore adding different sound to the room, he wasn’t sure. This place had once been very grand, but with sheets covering tables and decorations, and rugs rolled up and placed in darkened vaults for safe keeping, it looked more like a gorgeous tomb.
Moonlight poured in through several windows but it wasn't enough to offset the deep shadows that filled the corners. Unwilling to light a candle, Khanh trusted that they'd be able to find something they wanted anyway. They did not always have light to see by, while they worked. A hazard of taking things that weren't theirs by rights.
“What say we explore a bit?” Khanh looked over his shoulder at Akhmad as he lifted the corner of a sheet. “If we happen to find something we just have to have, so be it.” He shrugged, grinned, and bit into his apple again.
They were not here in Colchis just to break into random houses and steal random things. That could be done in any city, but what they were here for would not come to pass for several days and Khanh was growing restless. The last thing he wanted to do was be cooped up in their hideout with Somra's whining and Zai's fretting and Tiye's medicines. Though he owed Tiye a great deal, the herbs smelled funny and made the hideout a little too medicinal. This was for a bit of fun.
Khanh sat at the feet of a tall, beautiful statue of a goddess whose name he did not know. An apple in hand and his back against the statue’s legs, his own legs stretched out before him as he gave an expansive sweep of the main room with his arm. “Behold, Akhmad. The very picture of stupidity,” he said in a calm whisper.
No one lived here. Maybe servants, but none awake, so far as he could tell, and definitely none expecting company. This house, so far as he’d been able to work out, stood empty and alone, day after day, being only minimally cared for, with treasures and prized positions collecting dust. Such a shame. A house full of exquisite pieces of beauty and no one to admire them. That was why he’d decided to bring Akhmad. The man could keep a secret, if he chose.
Khanh’s eyes followed his companion as he took in their surroundings but at last the larger man stood, biting into his apple, and chewing thoughtfully. The bite was unusually loud in the echoing space and the chewing, something that might not be an issue somewhere else, was all Khanh could think about. He pulled his apple away from his mouth, looking at it, then flicking his eyes at Akhmad to see how he bore the sound. With careful consideration for the other man, Khanh took great care to chew slowly, reducing the sound as much as he was able, until he swallowed and then held out the apple.
“I don’t suppose you can chew any softer?” he arched an eyebrow. “You’re awful bossy for a mute.” He sighed and took another bite of the apple, this one less loud but whether that was due to his moderation of his own gusto or the fact that he was now walking, and therefore adding different sound to the room, he wasn’t sure. This place had once been very grand, but with sheets covering tables and decorations, and rugs rolled up and placed in darkened vaults for safe keeping, it looked more like a gorgeous tomb.
Moonlight poured in through several windows but it wasn't enough to offset the deep shadows that filled the corners. Unwilling to light a candle, Khanh trusted that they'd be able to find something they wanted anyway. They did not always have light to see by, while they worked. A hazard of taking things that weren't theirs by rights.
“What say we explore a bit?” Khanh looked over his shoulder at Akhmad as he lifted the corner of a sheet. “If we happen to find something we just have to have, so be it.” He shrugged, grinned, and bit into his apple again.
They were not here in Colchis just to break into random houses and steal random things. That could be done in any city, but what they were here for would not come to pass for several days and Khanh was growing restless. The last thing he wanted to do was be cooped up in their hideout with Somra's whining and Zai's fretting and Tiye's medicines. Though he owed Tiye a great deal, the herbs smelled funny and made the hideout a little too medicinal. This was for a bit of fun.
Akhmad had little desire to explore abandoned houses. Yet, he had even less to linger in the Sariqas hideout for particular orders to funnel down to their leader and their purpose in Colchis to be made clear. An active being, despite his tendency to turn into a stone's shadow in the corner of any room he entered, Akhmad had a regular regime of runs and exercise to keep him loose, limber and fit. Whilst he could not claim to hold the same acrobatic skills as the newly recruited Somra - he was able to fit in most places and could dislocate one of his shoulders when he needed a little more flexibility. Beyond that, it was Somra's terrain in sneaking through smaller gaps or angles.
Yet, Akhmad had never found a building he could not enter. He might have to take harder or more riskier entries over Somra if he was too large to fit through shallow chasms available elsewhere. But he always managed to get inside. One way to the other.
This particular structure, Khanh had chosen. Which meant it was easy enough to find a place to enter, for the man was far larger than Akhmad and had already eyeballed his way inside. Akhmad needed only to follow, his slim frame passing through only air where Khanh had to squeeze between the sides of the window opening.
Now instead, the giant, muscle-bound deputy of the Sariqas relaxed entirely, lounging and eating an apple he had brought for the occasion and inspecting the large hall in which they found themselves. Akhmad looked around in his own turn, his turban shifting from left to right and his mask swinging just a little against his neck and chest. His gaze was sharp in the darkness he was perfectly used to.
When a loud crunch split the care, Akhmad's attention was quick to be distracted in the direction of his companion. A single brow rose and his head tilted in a silent comment of question over Khanh's brazen lack of care. Not that they weren't completely safe. Khanh was a hulk of a man, able to kill with his bare hands and Akhmad made a living leaving corpses in his wake. Neither were in much danger of the common serving folk or no doubt were the only beings inside. Yet it would be unfortunate to insight a mass killing so soon after arriving.
When Khanh made a comment about him being bossy, Akhmad made no remark. Only an odd shift of the shoulders that seemed to scream - 'yeah? so what...? - before he placed his hands inside the folds of one of his tunics and wrappings and then followed the man into the main corridor of the house.
Whilst it might have seemed odd to an observer that two thieves wandered through a darkened manor of valuable objects without selecting anything for their own pockets, it was fairly common place for the Sariqas. They were no ordinary thieves, with no vault or hidden temple for their goods. There was a central Heart of their organisation where the leader of all Sariqas hid the loot of the entire gang, but such valuables had to be transported. Which meant it wasn't just any loot the Sariqas were ever after. It was items of the highest possible value, that were incredibly small and easy to lift from their rightful owners.
Which meant female bedchambers were some of the best places to explore. Jewellery - more often worn by the women than the men (though in some kingdoms the males did like to rustle up the splendour) - was an easy and worth-while taking.
As they moved through the house, Akhmad stepped with a silence usual for him, whilst Khanh moved with a heavier step. But given the man was certain that there was no-one here barring a few slaves in the servant’s quarters on the opposite side of the building, they did not have to be too quiet...
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Oct 29, 2019 13:11:03 GMT
Posted In Anybody Home? on Oct 29, 2019 13:11:03 GMT
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Akhmad had little desire to explore abandoned houses. Yet, he had even less to linger in the Sariqas hideout for particular orders to funnel down to their leader and their purpose in Colchis to be made clear. An active being, despite his tendency to turn into a stone's shadow in the corner of any room he entered, Akhmad had a regular regime of runs and exercise to keep him loose, limber and fit. Whilst he could not claim to hold the same acrobatic skills as the newly recruited Somra - he was able to fit in most places and could dislocate one of his shoulders when he needed a little more flexibility. Beyond that, it was Somra's terrain in sneaking through smaller gaps or angles.
Yet, Akhmad had never found a building he could not enter. He might have to take harder or more riskier entries over Somra if he was too large to fit through shallow chasms available elsewhere. But he always managed to get inside. One way to the other.
This particular structure, Khanh had chosen. Which meant it was easy enough to find a place to enter, for the man was far larger than Akhmad and had already eyeballed his way inside. Akhmad needed only to follow, his slim frame passing through only air where Khanh had to squeeze between the sides of the window opening.
Now instead, the giant, muscle-bound deputy of the Sariqas relaxed entirely, lounging and eating an apple he had brought for the occasion and inspecting the large hall in which they found themselves. Akhmad looked around in his own turn, his turban shifting from left to right and his mask swinging just a little against his neck and chest. His gaze was sharp in the darkness he was perfectly used to.
When a loud crunch split the care, Akhmad's attention was quick to be distracted in the direction of his companion. A single brow rose and his head tilted in a silent comment of question over Khanh's brazen lack of care. Not that they weren't completely safe. Khanh was a hulk of a man, able to kill with his bare hands and Akhmad made a living leaving corpses in his wake. Neither were in much danger of the common serving folk or no doubt were the only beings inside. Yet it would be unfortunate to insight a mass killing so soon after arriving.
When Khanh made a comment about him being bossy, Akhmad made no remark. Only an odd shift of the shoulders that seemed to scream - 'yeah? so what...? - before he placed his hands inside the folds of one of his tunics and wrappings and then followed the man into the main corridor of the house.
Whilst it might have seemed odd to an observer that two thieves wandered through a darkened manor of valuable objects without selecting anything for their own pockets, it was fairly common place for the Sariqas. They were no ordinary thieves, with no vault or hidden temple for their goods. There was a central Heart of their organisation where the leader of all Sariqas hid the loot of the entire gang, but such valuables had to be transported. Which meant it wasn't just any loot the Sariqas were ever after. It was items of the highest possible value, that were incredibly small and easy to lift from their rightful owners.
Which meant female bedchambers were some of the best places to explore. Jewellery - more often worn by the women than the men (though in some kingdoms the males did like to rustle up the splendour) - was an easy and worth-while taking.
As they moved through the house, Akhmad stepped with a silence usual for him, whilst Khanh moved with a heavier step. But given the man was certain that there was no-one here barring a few slaves in the servant’s quarters on the opposite side of the building, they did not have to be too quiet...
Akhmad had little desire to explore abandoned houses. Yet, he had even less to linger in the Sariqas hideout for particular orders to funnel down to their leader and their purpose in Colchis to be made clear. An active being, despite his tendency to turn into a stone's shadow in the corner of any room he entered, Akhmad had a regular regime of runs and exercise to keep him loose, limber and fit. Whilst he could not claim to hold the same acrobatic skills as the newly recruited Somra - he was able to fit in most places and could dislocate one of his shoulders when he needed a little more flexibility. Beyond that, it was Somra's terrain in sneaking through smaller gaps or angles.
Yet, Akhmad had never found a building he could not enter. He might have to take harder or more riskier entries over Somra if he was too large to fit through shallow chasms available elsewhere. But he always managed to get inside. One way to the other.
This particular structure, Khanh had chosen. Which meant it was easy enough to find a place to enter, for the man was far larger than Akhmad and had already eyeballed his way inside. Akhmad needed only to follow, his slim frame passing through only air where Khanh had to squeeze between the sides of the window opening.
Now instead, the giant, muscle-bound deputy of the Sariqas relaxed entirely, lounging and eating an apple he had brought for the occasion and inspecting the large hall in which they found themselves. Akhmad looked around in his own turn, his turban shifting from left to right and his mask swinging just a little against his neck and chest. His gaze was sharp in the darkness he was perfectly used to.
When a loud crunch split the care, Akhmad's attention was quick to be distracted in the direction of his companion. A single brow rose and his head tilted in a silent comment of question over Khanh's brazen lack of care. Not that they weren't completely safe. Khanh was a hulk of a man, able to kill with his bare hands and Akhmad made a living leaving corpses in his wake. Neither were in much danger of the common serving folk or no doubt were the only beings inside. Yet it would be unfortunate to insight a mass killing so soon after arriving.
When Khanh made a comment about him being bossy, Akhmad made no remark. Only an odd shift of the shoulders that seemed to scream - 'yeah? so what...? - before he placed his hands inside the folds of one of his tunics and wrappings and then followed the man into the main corridor of the house.
Whilst it might have seemed odd to an observer that two thieves wandered through a darkened manor of valuable objects without selecting anything for their own pockets, it was fairly common place for the Sariqas. They were no ordinary thieves, with no vault or hidden temple for their goods. There was a central Heart of their organisation where the leader of all Sariqas hid the loot of the entire gang, but such valuables had to be transported. Which meant it wasn't just any loot the Sariqas were ever after. It was items of the highest possible value, that were incredibly small and easy to lift from their rightful owners.
Which meant female bedchambers were some of the best places to explore. Jewellery - more often worn by the women than the men (though in some kingdoms the males did like to rustle up the splendour) - was an easy and worth-while taking.
As they moved through the house, Akhmad stepped with a silence usual for him, whilst Khanh moved with a heavier step. But given the man was certain that there was no-one here barring a few slaves in the servant’s quarters on the opposite side of the building, they did not have to be too quiet...
Akhmad’s concern was etched into his face and rigid posture and Khanh didn’t need the man to physically tell him he disapproved to know the mute’s opinion. Khanh’s brazen behavior was calculated and the result of previous study of the building, the comings and goings - or no comings and goings, in this case, and his general knowledge that there was no one home. Not being a particularly humble person, he didn’t feel any need to change his behavior just because it made his friend disapproving. However, Khanh was also not a terrible person and didn’t actively want Akhmad uncomfortable and so held up his hands.
“Fine, fine,” he murmured around his last bite of apple. “I will stop.” Slipping over to the nearest window, he tossed the half finished fruit out the window and watched it sail through the air and explode on a rooftop far below. His features remained neutral but inwardly, he found that sight completely satisfying and wished he had another fruit to throw. It was a little sick in the soul to think on, but the way the apple flew into wet pieces was exactly the way a human head would break if dropped from this high up.
Moving back to Akhmad’s side, he walked with the man through the house. Khanh did not take as much care with his noise level as he would if they were sneaking through an occupied house, because there was no need. Through a lifetime of habit, his steps were naturally quiet, though not to the level of his lighter, shorter companion.
His gaze swept the items they passed, assessing what was there, what was worth the trouble to take and what was not. At the moment, he couldn’t see anything he wanted to bother with. There were things here that would fetch a price, to be sure, but nothing that wouldn’t take effort to get money for and that was something that the Sariqas didn’t waste time with. Like Akhmad, his thoughts had shifted to the bedrooms, where jewels were more likely to be; though, if this house was as deserted as he knew it to be, he didn’t think they’d find much up there. What lady left a manor and jewels behind?
Like he’d told Akhmad, this was just for a bit of a look around. Nothing serious. This place was not so grand as others he’d seen and he thought on those houses as they moved deeper through the halls, until they got to the bedrooms. Most houses followed a similar pattern or flow, and this one was no different. Khanh glanced at Akhmad, nodding silently out of habit for the man to go to the right, while he took the left.
The first room he came to was empty and obviously meant for a man. There was nothing of either interest or value in the room beyond decorative statues and pottery. Khanh left that room and wandered into the next. This one was definitely meant for a woman, but it, too, was empty and devoid of anything useful. Without much thought, he went to the third room.
As soon as he entered, he saw it was different. There were clothes everywhere. All manner of gorgeous fabrics draped over wardrobe, chair, bedframe, as though the wearer couldn’t decide which to don and a servant never ended up putting them away. On the vanity lay jewels, glittering in the moonlight streaming in through the window. His eyes darted to the bed, spying a form lying there. All this hit home within a matter of seconds but he didn’t backpedal, nor did his anxiety rise. He’d robbed many homes before, some with people in them, some not, but this particular situation was actually no different than most. He’d just have to be much quieter.
Slipping back out into the hall, he sought Akhmad as quickly as he could, but now his steps were absolutely silent. Finding the mute just coming out of a room, Khanh reached for the man’s elbow, eyes wide, finger against his own lips in a silent entreaty to be as quiet as possible; a thing he probably didn’t have to do but did anyway out of overcompensating. Pointing back behind himself, he made the sign for ‘woman’ with his hands and bid Akhmad to follow. The two of them would enter the woman’s room and decide what to do from there.
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Akhmad’s concern was etched into his face and rigid posture and Khanh didn’t need the man to physically tell him he disapproved to know the mute’s opinion. Khanh’s brazen behavior was calculated and the result of previous study of the building, the comings and goings - or no comings and goings, in this case, and his general knowledge that there was no one home. Not being a particularly humble person, he didn’t feel any need to change his behavior just because it made his friend disapproving. However, Khanh was also not a terrible person and didn’t actively want Akhmad uncomfortable and so held up his hands.
“Fine, fine,” he murmured around his last bite of apple. “I will stop.” Slipping over to the nearest window, he tossed the half finished fruit out the window and watched it sail through the air and explode on a rooftop far below. His features remained neutral but inwardly, he found that sight completely satisfying and wished he had another fruit to throw. It was a little sick in the soul to think on, but the way the apple flew into wet pieces was exactly the way a human head would break if dropped from this high up.
Moving back to Akhmad’s side, he walked with the man through the house. Khanh did not take as much care with his noise level as he would if they were sneaking through an occupied house, because there was no need. Through a lifetime of habit, his steps were naturally quiet, though not to the level of his lighter, shorter companion.
His gaze swept the items they passed, assessing what was there, what was worth the trouble to take and what was not. At the moment, he couldn’t see anything he wanted to bother with. There were things here that would fetch a price, to be sure, but nothing that wouldn’t take effort to get money for and that was something that the Sariqas didn’t waste time with. Like Akhmad, his thoughts had shifted to the bedrooms, where jewels were more likely to be; though, if this house was as deserted as he knew it to be, he didn’t think they’d find much up there. What lady left a manor and jewels behind?
Like he’d told Akhmad, this was just for a bit of a look around. Nothing serious. This place was not so grand as others he’d seen and he thought on those houses as they moved deeper through the halls, until they got to the bedrooms. Most houses followed a similar pattern or flow, and this one was no different. Khanh glanced at Akhmad, nodding silently out of habit for the man to go to the right, while he took the left.
The first room he came to was empty and obviously meant for a man. There was nothing of either interest or value in the room beyond decorative statues and pottery. Khanh left that room and wandered into the next. This one was definitely meant for a woman, but it, too, was empty and devoid of anything useful. Without much thought, he went to the third room.
As soon as he entered, he saw it was different. There were clothes everywhere. All manner of gorgeous fabrics draped over wardrobe, chair, bedframe, as though the wearer couldn’t decide which to don and a servant never ended up putting them away. On the vanity lay jewels, glittering in the moonlight streaming in through the window. His eyes darted to the bed, spying a form lying there. All this hit home within a matter of seconds but he didn’t backpedal, nor did his anxiety rise. He’d robbed many homes before, some with people in them, some not, but this particular situation was actually no different than most. He’d just have to be much quieter.
Slipping back out into the hall, he sought Akhmad as quickly as he could, but now his steps were absolutely silent. Finding the mute just coming out of a room, Khanh reached for the man’s elbow, eyes wide, finger against his own lips in a silent entreaty to be as quiet as possible; a thing he probably didn’t have to do but did anyway out of overcompensating. Pointing back behind himself, he made the sign for ‘woman’ with his hands and bid Akhmad to follow. The two of them would enter the woman’s room and decide what to do from there.
Akhmad’s concern was etched into his face and rigid posture and Khanh didn’t need the man to physically tell him he disapproved to know the mute’s opinion. Khanh’s brazen behavior was calculated and the result of previous study of the building, the comings and goings - or no comings and goings, in this case, and his general knowledge that there was no one home. Not being a particularly humble person, he didn’t feel any need to change his behavior just because it made his friend disapproving. However, Khanh was also not a terrible person and didn’t actively want Akhmad uncomfortable and so held up his hands.
“Fine, fine,” he murmured around his last bite of apple. “I will stop.” Slipping over to the nearest window, he tossed the half finished fruit out the window and watched it sail through the air and explode on a rooftop far below. His features remained neutral but inwardly, he found that sight completely satisfying and wished he had another fruit to throw. It was a little sick in the soul to think on, but the way the apple flew into wet pieces was exactly the way a human head would break if dropped from this high up.
Moving back to Akhmad’s side, he walked with the man through the house. Khanh did not take as much care with his noise level as he would if they were sneaking through an occupied house, because there was no need. Through a lifetime of habit, his steps were naturally quiet, though not to the level of his lighter, shorter companion.
His gaze swept the items they passed, assessing what was there, what was worth the trouble to take and what was not. At the moment, he couldn’t see anything he wanted to bother with. There were things here that would fetch a price, to be sure, but nothing that wouldn’t take effort to get money for and that was something that the Sariqas didn’t waste time with. Like Akhmad, his thoughts had shifted to the bedrooms, where jewels were more likely to be; though, if this house was as deserted as he knew it to be, he didn’t think they’d find much up there. What lady left a manor and jewels behind?
Like he’d told Akhmad, this was just for a bit of a look around. Nothing serious. This place was not so grand as others he’d seen and he thought on those houses as they moved deeper through the halls, until they got to the bedrooms. Most houses followed a similar pattern or flow, and this one was no different. Khanh glanced at Akhmad, nodding silently out of habit for the man to go to the right, while he took the left.
The first room he came to was empty and obviously meant for a man. There was nothing of either interest or value in the room beyond decorative statues and pottery. Khanh left that room and wandered into the next. This one was definitely meant for a woman, but it, too, was empty and devoid of anything useful. Without much thought, he went to the third room.
As soon as he entered, he saw it was different. There were clothes everywhere. All manner of gorgeous fabrics draped over wardrobe, chair, bedframe, as though the wearer couldn’t decide which to don and a servant never ended up putting them away. On the vanity lay jewels, glittering in the moonlight streaming in through the window. His eyes darted to the bed, spying a form lying there. All this hit home within a matter of seconds but he didn’t backpedal, nor did his anxiety rise. He’d robbed many homes before, some with people in them, some not, but this particular situation was actually no different than most. He’d just have to be much quieter.
Slipping back out into the hall, he sought Akhmad as quickly as he could, but now his steps were absolutely silent. Finding the mute just coming out of a room, Khanh reached for the man’s elbow, eyes wide, finger against his own lips in a silent entreaty to be as quiet as possible; a thing he probably didn’t have to do but did anyway out of overcompensating. Pointing back behind himself, he made the sign for ‘woman’ with his hands and bid Akhmad to follow. The two of them would enter the woman’s room and decide what to do from there.
Akhmad had no intention of robbing this house. Or looking around it. Or spending any time in it. He didn't much care for the place and had no specific desire to pillage the place. The Sariqas had been sent to Colchis by their highest form of authority in order to fulfil a very specific purpose. What it was, they did not know yet, but he hardly considered it to be likely that sneaking around a high-profile home and potentially stealing from it would make that final purpose any easier.
On the flip side, Khanh was the first Sariqas Akhmad had ever met. And as such, the two held a certain bond he could not deny. Second was the fact that Khanh was his immediate superior within the group. And it wasn't worth his skin to ignore direct requests or instructions from a Sariqas commander. Third, was the fact that - regardless of how shallow that connection was - the Sariqas had one. Between the group, they each had a bond with the others, in wavering fluctuations of strength and longevity but there nonetheless. And Khanh was a little too hot-headed sometimes...
So, what was Akhmad supposed to do? Leave him be?
Whilst he gave no clear reaction internally, Akhmad did a mental eye roll at his inability to do anything but follow his friend out of the hall and down the corridors of the house, seeking entry to different chambers and basically just nosing about.
Neither of them were particularly silent but then that was always best. A good thief knew that if you were deliberately attempting to be quiet, then the natural sounds of movements seemed sneaky and disturbed those around you. A refusal to yield to atmospheric style and keep to the natural walking around you might conduct normally - quiet and confident - usually resulted in soft noises that were far less disturbing or strange to the ears of those you were hoping to avoid.
So, even in the belief that the house was empty, the two of them were unlikely to disturb anyone.
That was, until Khanh started for him down the corridor where he had disappeared into one of the chambers. With a quick flick of his hands and the assessing eye of the man who spoke the silent language, Akhmad was quick to realise the message being given. There was someone here after all.
Why was he not surprised?
Ready to pack up and leave - not through fear but from a general laziness of not wanting to deal with the drama of a high maintenance noble woman screaming the place down - Akhmad was forced instead (if he wanted to keep their presence quiet) to follow the grab and pull that Khanh executed, leading him towards the chamber in question.
Had Akhmad been a man to make noise, he might have cried out or protested, but instead, his eyes just simply narrowed and he was forced to follow his leader, until they were two dark shadows - one slight and one towering - within the bedchamber of a young woman.
Turning his narrowed and annoyed gaze upon Khanh, Akhmad made a sharp gesture with his hands that easily conveyed his irritation in their jerky motions. The question he was asking was clear.
Now what, genius?
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Nov 10, 2019 22:39:25 GMT
Posted In Anybody Home? on Nov 10, 2019 22:39:25 GMT
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Akhmad had no intention of robbing this house. Or looking around it. Or spending any time in it. He didn't much care for the place and had no specific desire to pillage the place. The Sariqas had been sent to Colchis by their highest form of authority in order to fulfil a very specific purpose. What it was, they did not know yet, but he hardly considered it to be likely that sneaking around a high-profile home and potentially stealing from it would make that final purpose any easier.
On the flip side, Khanh was the first Sariqas Akhmad had ever met. And as such, the two held a certain bond he could not deny. Second was the fact that Khanh was his immediate superior within the group. And it wasn't worth his skin to ignore direct requests or instructions from a Sariqas commander. Third, was the fact that - regardless of how shallow that connection was - the Sariqas had one. Between the group, they each had a bond with the others, in wavering fluctuations of strength and longevity but there nonetheless. And Khanh was a little too hot-headed sometimes...
So, what was Akhmad supposed to do? Leave him be?
Whilst he gave no clear reaction internally, Akhmad did a mental eye roll at his inability to do anything but follow his friend out of the hall and down the corridors of the house, seeking entry to different chambers and basically just nosing about.
Neither of them were particularly silent but then that was always best. A good thief knew that if you were deliberately attempting to be quiet, then the natural sounds of movements seemed sneaky and disturbed those around you. A refusal to yield to atmospheric style and keep to the natural walking around you might conduct normally - quiet and confident - usually resulted in soft noises that were far less disturbing or strange to the ears of those you were hoping to avoid.
So, even in the belief that the house was empty, the two of them were unlikely to disturb anyone.
That was, until Khanh started for him down the corridor where he had disappeared into one of the chambers. With a quick flick of his hands and the assessing eye of the man who spoke the silent language, Akhmad was quick to realise the message being given. There was someone here after all.
Why was he not surprised?
Ready to pack up and leave - not through fear but from a general laziness of not wanting to deal with the drama of a high maintenance noble woman screaming the place down - Akhmad was forced instead (if he wanted to keep their presence quiet) to follow the grab and pull that Khanh executed, leading him towards the chamber in question.
Had Akhmad been a man to make noise, he might have cried out or protested, but instead, his eyes just simply narrowed and he was forced to follow his leader, until they were two dark shadows - one slight and one towering - within the bedchamber of a young woman.
Turning his narrowed and annoyed gaze upon Khanh, Akhmad made a sharp gesture with his hands that easily conveyed his irritation in their jerky motions. The question he was asking was clear.
Now what, genius?
Akhmad had no intention of robbing this house. Or looking around it. Or spending any time in it. He didn't much care for the place and had no specific desire to pillage the place. The Sariqas had been sent to Colchis by their highest form of authority in order to fulfil a very specific purpose. What it was, they did not know yet, but he hardly considered it to be likely that sneaking around a high-profile home and potentially stealing from it would make that final purpose any easier.
On the flip side, Khanh was the first Sariqas Akhmad had ever met. And as such, the two held a certain bond he could not deny. Second was the fact that Khanh was his immediate superior within the group. And it wasn't worth his skin to ignore direct requests or instructions from a Sariqas commander. Third, was the fact that - regardless of how shallow that connection was - the Sariqas had one. Between the group, they each had a bond with the others, in wavering fluctuations of strength and longevity but there nonetheless. And Khanh was a little too hot-headed sometimes...
So, what was Akhmad supposed to do? Leave him be?
Whilst he gave no clear reaction internally, Akhmad did a mental eye roll at his inability to do anything but follow his friend out of the hall and down the corridors of the house, seeking entry to different chambers and basically just nosing about.
Neither of them were particularly silent but then that was always best. A good thief knew that if you were deliberately attempting to be quiet, then the natural sounds of movements seemed sneaky and disturbed those around you. A refusal to yield to atmospheric style and keep to the natural walking around you might conduct normally - quiet and confident - usually resulted in soft noises that were far less disturbing or strange to the ears of those you were hoping to avoid.
So, even in the belief that the house was empty, the two of them were unlikely to disturb anyone.
That was, until Khanh started for him down the corridor where he had disappeared into one of the chambers. With a quick flick of his hands and the assessing eye of the man who spoke the silent language, Akhmad was quick to realise the message being given. There was someone here after all.
Why was he not surprised?
Ready to pack up and leave - not through fear but from a general laziness of not wanting to deal with the drama of a high maintenance noble woman screaming the place down - Akhmad was forced instead (if he wanted to keep their presence quiet) to follow the grab and pull that Khanh executed, leading him towards the chamber in question.
Had Akhmad been a man to make noise, he might have cried out or protested, but instead, his eyes just simply narrowed and he was forced to follow his leader, until they were two dark shadows - one slight and one towering - within the bedchamber of a young woman.
Turning his narrowed and annoyed gaze upon Khanh, Akhmad made a sharp gesture with his hands that easily conveyed his irritation in their jerky motions. The question he was asking was clear.
Now what, genius?
If Nana was anything lately, it was tired. Tired from travel, tired from the action of previous days, and most of all, tired of men.
It figured that she had gotten her hopes up and assumed that Timaeus was a prince. It wasn't as if he had told her that he was nothing more than a lowly baron. And furthermore, it wasn't as if he looked so different from Vangelis, for that matter. How was she to know any different? Though the soldier had apparently met Selene in the past, it figured that Nana's eldest sister wouldn't look out for her and at least tell her that she wasn't flirting with a prince.
Still, Nana couldn't help but think that she should have seen it coming. In what world does everything fall into place so perfectly? Perhaps in the love stories the nursemaids would tell Nana to get her to sleep, but certainly not in reality. This was all just too much for the girl to take.
The past few days had found Nana not at her happiest, what with the disgusting revelation that her so-called prince was nothing more than a baron, and furthermore with the premonition Nana felt that Selene would soon have a wedding of her own in the works. It just fit, didn't it? Selene got everything, and Nana was left with nothing. Not to mention that Pia and Theo both had found their way to the throne, granted it wasn't long before Pia and Stephanos were removed the throne, and Prince Irakles' death certainly put a damper on the wedding. But still. The fact remained that Nana deserved a crown, and she still had not been given one.
It was all just too much.
Thus, the young Leventi had found herself in bed quite early in the night, after having more than a few glasses of wine, and crying what seemed an ocean of tears. With little care, the girl had gone about removing the day's finery, fiddling with the seemingly endless rings and bangles that refused to cooperate and come off in her drunken stupor, Nana soon giving up after Hypnos began to softly call her to bed.
As soon as Nana hit the mattress, she was out like a light.
As the girl had been imbibing, it only made sense that her dreams reflected such intoxication, and thus she found herself riding on the back of a unicorn in her dream-world, galloping through the lush hillside of Macendia. On her head she wore a golden crown, studded with emeralds and sapphires big as grapes, and beside her...
No.
She would not have him disturbing her dreams.
...And beside her was Basilides. And all was right with the world.
Nana's dream went on for quite some time this way, the young lady tossing and turning throughout the night as her subconscious constantly tried to manifest visions of Timaeus, that the girl's stubborn pride would not allow to materialize and ruin her dream. It was quite difficult, but if anyone was headstrong enough to avoid her own thoughts, it was Nana.
Thus she dreamt of her happy place, with intermittent interruption, for hours, until the sun had gone far away, and the light of the moon shone beams of light from the windows.
Nana had always been a heavy sleeper, though this dream threatened to wake her a number of times, what with her struggle against her dreams raging on, yet it seemed that when she did wake, she picked a horrid time to do so.
Letting out a quiet groan as she shifted, stretching a bit as she turned over, pulling her covers tight over herself, Nana assumed that unlike the toil of her every day, there was nothing wrong in this moment, save for Timaeus trying to butt into her dream. Oh, how wrong she was.
After a long yawn, the girl opened her eyes, squinting in the low light to find not one, but two figures standing over her.
Eyes widening instantly, Nana quickly started to shriek like a harpy, kicking off her covers and starting to hurl a number of pillows at the intruders while she looked around frantically for a weapon, though struggling as she was in bed, and anything that could remotely be used as a weapon would be on her vanity. She had to settle for grabbing a partially-burnt candle from her bedside, which she quickly held in front of her, brandishing the piece of wax as if it were an actual weapon.
"Don't! Don't you come near me!" The girl shouted, trying to keep herself from hyperventilating as she could feel her heart start to pound, "I am Nana of Leventi and you will pay with your life if you come any closer!"
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If Nana was anything lately, it was tired. Tired from travel, tired from the action of previous days, and most of all, tired of men.
It figured that she had gotten her hopes up and assumed that Timaeus was a prince. It wasn't as if he had told her that he was nothing more than a lowly baron. And furthermore, it wasn't as if he looked so different from Vangelis, for that matter. How was she to know any different? Though the soldier had apparently met Selene in the past, it figured that Nana's eldest sister wouldn't look out for her and at least tell her that she wasn't flirting with a prince.
Still, Nana couldn't help but think that she should have seen it coming. In what world does everything fall into place so perfectly? Perhaps in the love stories the nursemaids would tell Nana to get her to sleep, but certainly not in reality. This was all just too much for the girl to take.
The past few days had found Nana not at her happiest, what with the disgusting revelation that her so-called prince was nothing more than a baron, and furthermore with the premonition Nana felt that Selene would soon have a wedding of her own in the works. It just fit, didn't it? Selene got everything, and Nana was left with nothing. Not to mention that Pia and Theo both had found their way to the throne, granted it wasn't long before Pia and Stephanos were removed the throne, and Prince Irakles' death certainly put a damper on the wedding. But still. The fact remained that Nana deserved a crown, and she still had not been given one.
It was all just too much.
Thus, the young Leventi had found herself in bed quite early in the night, after having more than a few glasses of wine, and crying what seemed an ocean of tears. With little care, the girl had gone about removing the day's finery, fiddling with the seemingly endless rings and bangles that refused to cooperate and come off in her drunken stupor, Nana soon giving up after Hypnos began to softly call her to bed.
As soon as Nana hit the mattress, she was out like a light.
As the girl had been imbibing, it only made sense that her dreams reflected such intoxication, and thus she found herself riding on the back of a unicorn in her dream-world, galloping through the lush hillside of Macendia. On her head she wore a golden crown, studded with emeralds and sapphires big as grapes, and beside her...
No.
She would not have him disturbing her dreams.
...And beside her was Basilides. And all was right with the world.
Nana's dream went on for quite some time this way, the young lady tossing and turning throughout the night as her subconscious constantly tried to manifest visions of Timaeus, that the girl's stubborn pride would not allow to materialize and ruin her dream. It was quite difficult, but if anyone was headstrong enough to avoid her own thoughts, it was Nana.
Thus she dreamt of her happy place, with intermittent interruption, for hours, until the sun had gone far away, and the light of the moon shone beams of light from the windows.
Nana had always been a heavy sleeper, though this dream threatened to wake her a number of times, what with her struggle against her dreams raging on, yet it seemed that when she did wake, she picked a horrid time to do so.
Letting out a quiet groan as she shifted, stretching a bit as she turned over, pulling her covers tight over herself, Nana assumed that unlike the toil of her every day, there was nothing wrong in this moment, save for Timaeus trying to butt into her dream. Oh, how wrong she was.
After a long yawn, the girl opened her eyes, squinting in the low light to find not one, but two figures standing over her.
Eyes widening instantly, Nana quickly started to shriek like a harpy, kicking off her covers and starting to hurl a number of pillows at the intruders while she looked around frantically for a weapon, though struggling as she was in bed, and anything that could remotely be used as a weapon would be on her vanity. She had to settle for grabbing a partially-burnt candle from her bedside, which she quickly held in front of her, brandishing the piece of wax as if it were an actual weapon.
"Don't! Don't you come near me!" The girl shouted, trying to keep herself from hyperventilating as she could feel her heart start to pound, "I am Nana of Leventi and you will pay with your life if you come any closer!"
If Nana was anything lately, it was tired. Tired from travel, tired from the action of previous days, and most of all, tired of men.
It figured that she had gotten her hopes up and assumed that Timaeus was a prince. It wasn't as if he had told her that he was nothing more than a lowly baron. And furthermore, it wasn't as if he looked so different from Vangelis, for that matter. How was she to know any different? Though the soldier had apparently met Selene in the past, it figured that Nana's eldest sister wouldn't look out for her and at least tell her that she wasn't flirting with a prince.
Still, Nana couldn't help but think that she should have seen it coming. In what world does everything fall into place so perfectly? Perhaps in the love stories the nursemaids would tell Nana to get her to sleep, but certainly not in reality. This was all just too much for the girl to take.
The past few days had found Nana not at her happiest, what with the disgusting revelation that her so-called prince was nothing more than a baron, and furthermore with the premonition Nana felt that Selene would soon have a wedding of her own in the works. It just fit, didn't it? Selene got everything, and Nana was left with nothing. Not to mention that Pia and Theo both had found their way to the throne, granted it wasn't long before Pia and Stephanos were removed the throne, and Prince Irakles' death certainly put a damper on the wedding. But still. The fact remained that Nana deserved a crown, and she still had not been given one.
It was all just too much.
Thus, the young Leventi had found herself in bed quite early in the night, after having more than a few glasses of wine, and crying what seemed an ocean of tears. With little care, the girl had gone about removing the day's finery, fiddling with the seemingly endless rings and bangles that refused to cooperate and come off in her drunken stupor, Nana soon giving up after Hypnos began to softly call her to bed.
As soon as Nana hit the mattress, she was out like a light.
As the girl had been imbibing, it only made sense that her dreams reflected such intoxication, and thus she found herself riding on the back of a unicorn in her dream-world, galloping through the lush hillside of Macendia. On her head she wore a golden crown, studded with emeralds and sapphires big as grapes, and beside her...
No.
She would not have him disturbing her dreams.
...And beside her was Basilides. And all was right with the world.
Nana's dream went on for quite some time this way, the young lady tossing and turning throughout the night as her subconscious constantly tried to manifest visions of Timaeus, that the girl's stubborn pride would not allow to materialize and ruin her dream. It was quite difficult, but if anyone was headstrong enough to avoid her own thoughts, it was Nana.
Thus she dreamt of her happy place, with intermittent interruption, for hours, until the sun had gone far away, and the light of the moon shone beams of light from the windows.
Nana had always been a heavy sleeper, though this dream threatened to wake her a number of times, what with her struggle against her dreams raging on, yet it seemed that when she did wake, she picked a horrid time to do so.
Letting out a quiet groan as she shifted, stretching a bit as she turned over, pulling her covers tight over herself, Nana assumed that unlike the toil of her every day, there was nothing wrong in this moment, save for Timaeus trying to butt into her dream. Oh, how wrong she was.
After a long yawn, the girl opened her eyes, squinting in the low light to find not one, but two figures standing over her.
Eyes widening instantly, Nana quickly started to shriek like a harpy, kicking off her covers and starting to hurl a number of pillows at the intruders while she looked around frantically for a weapon, though struggling as she was in bed, and anything that could remotely be used as a weapon would be on her vanity. She had to settle for grabbing a partially-burnt candle from her bedside, which she quickly held in front of her, brandishing the piece of wax as if it were an actual weapon.
"Don't! Don't you come near me!" The girl shouted, trying to keep herself from hyperventilating as she could feel her heart start to pound, "I am Nana of Leventi and you will pay with your life if you come any closer!"
It would be no surprise to the other man in the room but perhaps to the young girl that Akhmad made zero sand, or even reaction when the noble lady woke with all the energy of banshee and started to threaten them with both verbal threats and home decor. He simply sighed beneath his mask at the ludicrous drama she was creating.
There were two kinds of noble woman in this world, that Akhmad had come to categorise. And it didn't matter what kingdom, realm or culture they were born to or lived within. There were the sheet-grabbers and the weapon-grabbers. The ones who clutched at their bedding or their door or whatever was the most convenient barrier between themselves and the intruder who was interrupting their calm little world. They took to the shield. Then there were the ones that reached for some form of offensive protection - a weapon, a threat, the use of their rank as a hurling danger. The ones who reached for the sword.
Sometimes one liked to pretend to be the other - the ones who hid swords beneath the sheets or hurled insulting words to hide the fact that they were cowering. But, at their core, all women boiled down to two things: the fighters and the fearful.
Neither were difficult to deal with. But the fearful caused fewer issues with any intended plans.
As the girl hurled pillows and cushions at them in some bizarre attempt to banish them from the room, Akhmad reached with a speed that was almost invisible in the darkness, One moment he was catching one of the pillows and allowing it to drop the ground without reaction, the next, the following cushion paused in mid-air, hovering in the shadows were it had become skewered on the knife that the assassin had had ready. A quick flick of the wrist had the pillow thrown to one side and the wool and feathers from within poofing a few inches into the air above its slaughtered carcass, powdery white in the night-time hush.
Or what had been hush until Nana of Leventi decided that noise was the best solution when finding two infiltrators within her room. Infiltrators who clearly didn't want their presence known. And yet she was angrily growling her head off, making it a necessity that they silence her...
Not too bright, are we blondie?
Already with blades in hand and having zero concern for his ability to take the girl down, Akhmad looked towards Khanh. He was his leader - his immediate superior. It was his decision whether he wanted bodies left behind this night.
Despite the low light, Akhmad's skin was pale enough to offer the man a glowing window of clarity to his expressions and Akhmad simply raised one dark brow in query, the moonlight from the window glinting off of a blade he held ready in suggestion of his next course of action...
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Dec 15, 2019 10:52:28 GMT
Posted In Anybody Home? on Dec 15, 2019 10:52:28 GMT
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It would be no surprise to the other man in the room but perhaps to the young girl that Akhmad made zero sand, or even reaction when the noble lady woke with all the energy of banshee and started to threaten them with both verbal threats and home decor. He simply sighed beneath his mask at the ludicrous drama she was creating.
There were two kinds of noble woman in this world, that Akhmad had come to categorise. And it didn't matter what kingdom, realm or culture they were born to or lived within. There were the sheet-grabbers and the weapon-grabbers. The ones who clutched at their bedding or their door or whatever was the most convenient barrier between themselves and the intruder who was interrupting their calm little world. They took to the shield. Then there were the ones that reached for some form of offensive protection - a weapon, a threat, the use of their rank as a hurling danger. The ones who reached for the sword.
Sometimes one liked to pretend to be the other - the ones who hid swords beneath the sheets or hurled insulting words to hide the fact that they were cowering. But, at their core, all women boiled down to two things: the fighters and the fearful.
Neither were difficult to deal with. But the fearful caused fewer issues with any intended plans.
As the girl hurled pillows and cushions at them in some bizarre attempt to banish them from the room, Akhmad reached with a speed that was almost invisible in the darkness, One moment he was catching one of the pillows and allowing it to drop the ground without reaction, the next, the following cushion paused in mid-air, hovering in the shadows were it had become skewered on the knife that the assassin had had ready. A quick flick of the wrist had the pillow thrown to one side and the wool and feathers from within poofing a few inches into the air above its slaughtered carcass, powdery white in the night-time hush.
Or what had been hush until Nana of Leventi decided that noise was the best solution when finding two infiltrators within her room. Infiltrators who clearly didn't want their presence known. And yet she was angrily growling her head off, making it a necessity that they silence her...
Not too bright, are we blondie?
Already with blades in hand and having zero concern for his ability to take the girl down, Akhmad looked towards Khanh. He was his leader - his immediate superior. It was his decision whether he wanted bodies left behind this night.
Despite the low light, Akhmad's skin was pale enough to offer the man a glowing window of clarity to his expressions and Akhmad simply raised one dark brow in query, the moonlight from the window glinting off of a blade he held ready in suggestion of his next course of action...
It would be no surprise to the other man in the room but perhaps to the young girl that Akhmad made zero sand, or even reaction when the noble lady woke with all the energy of banshee and started to threaten them with both verbal threats and home decor. He simply sighed beneath his mask at the ludicrous drama she was creating.
There were two kinds of noble woman in this world, that Akhmad had come to categorise. And it didn't matter what kingdom, realm or culture they were born to or lived within. There were the sheet-grabbers and the weapon-grabbers. The ones who clutched at their bedding or their door or whatever was the most convenient barrier between themselves and the intruder who was interrupting their calm little world. They took to the shield. Then there were the ones that reached for some form of offensive protection - a weapon, a threat, the use of their rank as a hurling danger. The ones who reached for the sword.
Sometimes one liked to pretend to be the other - the ones who hid swords beneath the sheets or hurled insulting words to hide the fact that they were cowering. But, at their core, all women boiled down to two things: the fighters and the fearful.
Neither were difficult to deal with. But the fearful caused fewer issues with any intended plans.
As the girl hurled pillows and cushions at them in some bizarre attempt to banish them from the room, Akhmad reached with a speed that was almost invisible in the darkness, One moment he was catching one of the pillows and allowing it to drop the ground without reaction, the next, the following cushion paused in mid-air, hovering in the shadows were it had become skewered on the knife that the assassin had had ready. A quick flick of the wrist had the pillow thrown to one side and the wool and feathers from within poofing a few inches into the air above its slaughtered carcass, powdery white in the night-time hush.
Or what had been hush until Nana of Leventi decided that noise was the best solution when finding two infiltrators within her room. Infiltrators who clearly didn't want their presence known. And yet she was angrily growling her head off, making it a necessity that they silence her...
Not too bright, are we blondie?
Already with blades in hand and having zero concern for his ability to take the girl down, Akhmad looked towards Khanh. He was his leader - his immediate superior. It was his decision whether he wanted bodies left behind this night.
Despite the low light, Akhmad's skin was pale enough to offer the man a glowing window of clarity to his expressions and Akhmad simply raised one dark brow in query, the moonlight from the window glinting off of a blade he held ready in suggestion of his next course of action...
Now that there was someone in the house that was previously empty, he was positive it had been, Khanh had drawn the mask over his face, leaving only his eyes visible. His eyes narrowed at Akhmad’s attitude. If he could reach over and choke the mute, he would have done, but that was poor form. Not to mention he was fond of Akhmad when the man wasn’t having the attitude of a teen. He arched an eyebrow and shrugged his massive shoulders in an obvious It was empty! Obviously it wasn’t now. When that had changed, he didn’t know but he couldn’t possibly be expected to be clairvoyant and know everything.
Khanh did not understand enough Greek to be able to understand the exact nature of what she was screeching, but it didn’t matter. The intent was clear enough, especially with the pillows catapulted in their direction that bounced uselessly off the two of them. The candle was what Khanh found funny and he took only one glance at Akhmad before leaping onto the bed and ripping Nana up by her hair as his other hand came around to clamp down hard on her mouth. He kept his hand arched so that she would be unable to bite into the meat of his palm and then he kept pulling on her hair, whispering directly into her ear one of the few Greek words he knew.
“Stop screaming.” The word screaming was in Coptic and he highly much doubted this very Greek girl knew his native tongue, but even if she did not, she would likely understand what he meant. There would be very little else someone would bother telling her. Once he was sure she would stop the screaming, he let go of her hair and slid that arm around her torso to drag her bodily off the bed and walked with her as though she was nothing over to Akhmad. “Rope? Cloth?” he murmured in their native tongue. What he didn’t want to do was kill this one. But it wasn’t out of the question.
There wasn’t likely to be rope in here. “Get a cloth, stuff it in her mouth, and use that,” he nudged a shawl with the toe of his sandal, “to tie around her head.” With her mouth stuffed and the shawl in place to keep her from spitting it out, the danger of Nana making too much sound was minimal at best. Khanh was not afraid of her meager strength in the least. This whole exercise hadn’t been about thieving. It had been to relieve boredom while they waited. Besides, it couldn’t hurt to gather intelligence about how the Greeks lived before they hit their real target. Though, with people here, that made this not worth it. Thus, the point that the house was supposed to have been empty. Ah well. Best laid plans.
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Dec 22, 2019 19:31:47 GMT
Posted In Anybody Home? on Dec 22, 2019 19:31:47 GMT
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Now that there was someone in the house that was previously empty, he was positive it had been, Khanh had drawn the mask over his face, leaving only his eyes visible. His eyes narrowed at Akhmad’s attitude. If he could reach over and choke the mute, he would have done, but that was poor form. Not to mention he was fond of Akhmad when the man wasn’t having the attitude of a teen. He arched an eyebrow and shrugged his massive shoulders in an obvious It was empty! Obviously it wasn’t now. When that had changed, he didn’t know but he couldn’t possibly be expected to be clairvoyant and know everything.
Khanh did not understand enough Greek to be able to understand the exact nature of what she was screeching, but it didn’t matter. The intent was clear enough, especially with the pillows catapulted in their direction that bounced uselessly off the two of them. The candle was what Khanh found funny and he took only one glance at Akhmad before leaping onto the bed and ripping Nana up by her hair as his other hand came around to clamp down hard on her mouth. He kept his hand arched so that she would be unable to bite into the meat of his palm and then he kept pulling on her hair, whispering directly into her ear one of the few Greek words he knew.
“Stop screaming.” The word screaming was in Coptic and he highly much doubted this very Greek girl knew his native tongue, but even if she did not, she would likely understand what he meant. There would be very little else someone would bother telling her. Once he was sure she would stop the screaming, he let go of her hair and slid that arm around her torso to drag her bodily off the bed and walked with her as though she was nothing over to Akhmad. “Rope? Cloth?” he murmured in their native tongue. What he didn’t want to do was kill this one. But it wasn’t out of the question.
There wasn’t likely to be rope in here. “Get a cloth, stuff it in her mouth, and use that,” he nudged a shawl with the toe of his sandal, “to tie around her head.” With her mouth stuffed and the shawl in place to keep her from spitting it out, the danger of Nana making too much sound was minimal at best. Khanh was not afraid of her meager strength in the least. This whole exercise hadn’t been about thieving. It had been to relieve boredom while they waited. Besides, it couldn’t hurt to gather intelligence about how the Greeks lived before they hit their real target. Though, with people here, that made this not worth it. Thus, the point that the house was supposed to have been empty. Ah well. Best laid plans.
Now that there was someone in the house that was previously empty, he was positive it had been, Khanh had drawn the mask over his face, leaving only his eyes visible. His eyes narrowed at Akhmad’s attitude. If he could reach over and choke the mute, he would have done, but that was poor form. Not to mention he was fond of Akhmad when the man wasn’t having the attitude of a teen. He arched an eyebrow and shrugged his massive shoulders in an obvious It was empty! Obviously it wasn’t now. When that had changed, he didn’t know but he couldn’t possibly be expected to be clairvoyant and know everything.
Khanh did not understand enough Greek to be able to understand the exact nature of what she was screeching, but it didn’t matter. The intent was clear enough, especially with the pillows catapulted in their direction that bounced uselessly off the two of them. The candle was what Khanh found funny and he took only one glance at Akhmad before leaping onto the bed and ripping Nana up by her hair as his other hand came around to clamp down hard on her mouth. He kept his hand arched so that she would be unable to bite into the meat of his palm and then he kept pulling on her hair, whispering directly into her ear one of the few Greek words he knew.
“Stop screaming.” The word screaming was in Coptic and he highly much doubted this very Greek girl knew his native tongue, but even if she did not, she would likely understand what he meant. There would be very little else someone would bother telling her. Once he was sure she would stop the screaming, he let go of her hair and slid that arm around her torso to drag her bodily off the bed and walked with her as though she was nothing over to Akhmad. “Rope? Cloth?” he murmured in their native tongue. What he didn’t want to do was kill this one. But it wasn’t out of the question.
There wasn’t likely to be rope in here. “Get a cloth, stuff it in her mouth, and use that,” he nudged a shawl with the toe of his sandal, “to tie around her head.” With her mouth stuffed and the shawl in place to keep her from spitting it out, the danger of Nana making too much sound was minimal at best. Khanh was not afraid of her meager strength in the least. This whole exercise hadn’t been about thieving. It had been to relieve boredom while they waited. Besides, it couldn’t hurt to gather intelligence about how the Greeks lived before they hit their real target. Though, with people here, that made this not worth it. Thus, the point that the house was supposed to have been empty. Ah well. Best laid plans.
Akhmad set about maintaining the appearance of one who really didn't give a shit if the alarm was raised or not. A man who could slink between shadows and out windows and over roof-tops faster than most could summon a single guard, had little cause to be concerned. Even when the pampered princess of the household was screaming down the place.
Khanh, however, had less patience. Not fear exactly, for Akhmad has seen the man take on small army regiments and win single-handed. So, the risk of being discovered was surely as minimal for him as for the mute assassin. What Khanh did dislike was irritations. Particularly for the feminine persuasion. Akhmad had never managed to work out if the man loved or hated women, because his attitude towards them was so intense in every direction, depending on what he was feeling at the time. Perhaps nervous of the answer, he had never wanted to poke the bear and ask.
In this particular case, Khanh's impatience led to an almost expected reaction of leaping onto the mattress, his weight securing his position and ceasing any wobbles that might have led to him going arse over head. With a giant hand, the man reached out and took the princess Grecian by her long blonde hair and lifted her up from the floor in a manner that would have had Akhmad wincing if he was at all sympathetic to pain. It hurt to have yourself bodily hauled somewhere by the roots of your hair.
In a moment, however, Khanh had placed a hand around her to shut off any cries of pain and was giving out orders that Akhmad was to follow, partially because it was needed to keep their cover hidden until their real mission here in Colchis and partly because the man was his superior and Akhmad obeyed his orders - whether he thought them appropriate or not.
Looking around and spotting a soft looking muslin that could have been large enough to dress a doll in a shawl or was perhaps used for anointing oils to the body, Akhmad grabbed the thing and moved to stuff it into the girl's mouth when Khanh released his fingers. He then dropped low, scooped up the shawl and tied that around the girl's head so that she couldn't spit out her gag. Once done, Akhmad took four quick steps to the side of the bed where long and silken drapes hung at either side of the head of the bed and with the flash of a blade, cut one down in a single and fluid motion. He then moved to hand it over to Khanh so that he could bind the girl - likely hog style - and keep her from reaching at her gag and alerting the household to their presence.
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Dec 28, 2019 17:00:00 GMT
Posted In Anybody Home? on Dec 28, 2019 17:00:00 GMT
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Akhmad set about maintaining the appearance of one who really didn't give a shit if the alarm was raised or not. A man who could slink between shadows and out windows and over roof-tops faster than most could summon a single guard, had little cause to be concerned. Even when the pampered princess of the household was screaming down the place.
Khanh, however, had less patience. Not fear exactly, for Akhmad has seen the man take on small army regiments and win single-handed. So, the risk of being discovered was surely as minimal for him as for the mute assassin. What Khanh did dislike was irritations. Particularly for the feminine persuasion. Akhmad had never managed to work out if the man loved or hated women, because his attitude towards them was so intense in every direction, depending on what he was feeling at the time. Perhaps nervous of the answer, he had never wanted to poke the bear and ask.
In this particular case, Khanh's impatience led to an almost expected reaction of leaping onto the mattress, his weight securing his position and ceasing any wobbles that might have led to him going arse over head. With a giant hand, the man reached out and took the princess Grecian by her long blonde hair and lifted her up from the floor in a manner that would have had Akhmad wincing if he was at all sympathetic to pain. It hurt to have yourself bodily hauled somewhere by the roots of your hair.
In a moment, however, Khanh had placed a hand around her to shut off any cries of pain and was giving out orders that Akhmad was to follow, partially because it was needed to keep their cover hidden until their real mission here in Colchis and partly because the man was his superior and Akhmad obeyed his orders - whether he thought them appropriate or not.
Looking around and spotting a soft looking muslin that could have been large enough to dress a doll in a shawl or was perhaps used for anointing oils to the body, Akhmad grabbed the thing and moved to stuff it into the girl's mouth when Khanh released his fingers. He then dropped low, scooped up the shawl and tied that around the girl's head so that she couldn't spit out her gag. Once done, Akhmad took four quick steps to the side of the bed where long and silken drapes hung at either side of the head of the bed and with the flash of a blade, cut one down in a single and fluid motion. He then moved to hand it over to Khanh so that he could bind the girl - likely hog style - and keep her from reaching at her gag and alerting the household to their presence.
Akhmad set about maintaining the appearance of one who really didn't give a shit if the alarm was raised or not. A man who could slink between shadows and out windows and over roof-tops faster than most could summon a single guard, had little cause to be concerned. Even when the pampered princess of the household was screaming down the place.
Khanh, however, had less patience. Not fear exactly, for Akhmad has seen the man take on small army regiments and win single-handed. So, the risk of being discovered was surely as minimal for him as for the mute assassin. What Khanh did dislike was irritations. Particularly for the feminine persuasion. Akhmad had never managed to work out if the man loved or hated women, because his attitude towards them was so intense in every direction, depending on what he was feeling at the time. Perhaps nervous of the answer, he had never wanted to poke the bear and ask.
In this particular case, Khanh's impatience led to an almost expected reaction of leaping onto the mattress, his weight securing his position and ceasing any wobbles that might have led to him going arse over head. With a giant hand, the man reached out and took the princess Grecian by her long blonde hair and lifted her up from the floor in a manner that would have had Akhmad wincing if he was at all sympathetic to pain. It hurt to have yourself bodily hauled somewhere by the roots of your hair.
In a moment, however, Khanh had placed a hand around her to shut off any cries of pain and was giving out orders that Akhmad was to follow, partially because it was needed to keep their cover hidden until their real mission here in Colchis and partly because the man was his superior and Akhmad obeyed his orders - whether he thought them appropriate or not.
Looking around and spotting a soft looking muslin that could have been large enough to dress a doll in a shawl or was perhaps used for anointing oils to the body, Akhmad grabbed the thing and moved to stuff it into the girl's mouth when Khanh released his fingers. He then dropped low, scooped up the shawl and tied that around the girl's head so that she couldn't spit out her gag. Once done, Akhmad took four quick steps to the side of the bed where long and silken drapes hung at either side of the head of the bed and with the flash of a blade, cut one down in a single and fluid motion. He then moved to hand it over to Khanh so that he could bind the girl - likely hog style - and keep her from reaching at her gag and alerting the household to their presence.
Because they worked together so often, and for so many years, their movements were nearly as graceful and synchronized as a dance. He didn’t drop Nana until she was sufficiently gagged. The entire time, he’d stared into this girl’s eyes, wondering what had been going through her head, if anything had been going through at all. Mindless screaming. Heedless of the dangers before her. He was not concerned about their identities being known. For one, it was incredibly dark. It would be nearly impossible to tell what they looked like, and two, they were masked. Except for their eyes just above the bridge of their noses, there was nothing to see. Khanh knew he had a distinctive look but that was more in Egypt than here, where the people had hues of green, blue, brown, and gray. An entire gorgeous spectrum that hid him better.
He held out his hand for the fabric, not moving when he heard the knife slice into the curtain, giving off a brittle whisper, before the tail of the curtain was in his palm. Dropping Nana back onto the bed, he sank down on top of her in nearly the same motion. A loud sigh escaped through his nose as he flipped her over onto her stomach and jerked her hands behind her back. When he’d checked, and he had checked, there was no one here. This girl was ruining all his carefully laid plans. The nuisance of this was what was driving him to be so rough with her, rather than a hatred for her sex. Khanh liked women most of the time. He had no issues with Tiye, who’d been nothing but wonderful since he’d first met her. He just didn’t really like girls like the one he was trundling up like a chicken ready to be strung up. She was pretty enough but obviously too loud. Khanh preferred quiet people. They suited his life better.
Once he had Nana’s hands tied, he held out his hand for another sash for her ankles and made sure to cross them as he tied her in neat, pretty knots. It would be harder to hobble or even hop with her feet crossed over each other in this way. Then, he moved off her, where he’d been kneeling over her back, knees gripping her hips like she was a horse. For a single moment, he stood, one hand on his hip, the fingers of his other hand pinching the bridge of his nose as he closed his eyes, and sighed again. Wonderful. Just. Wonderful. A fun evening of thievery, ruined.
A third sigh escaped and he clapped his hands together, mentally getting himself back into his professional mode, and slid his arms underneath Nana, shifting her to hold her against his chest for a brief moment while he pulled back the covers of her bed to expose the sheets beneath. Once he had the top blanket back far enough, he settled her back down with her head on the pillow, and drew her blankets up over her body like she was sleeping. There. She’d ideally not be able to move until they were well and truly gone.
Glancing at Akhmad, whom he’d not checked on this entire time, he inclined his head towards her window. There was little point going back the way they came. Her momentary screeching might have alerted someone. Onwards and upwards, as it were. Leading the way, Khanh peaked his head out of the window, looked down, then twisted and looked up. Yes. If he stood on the sil, he’d have no problem reaching the lip of the roof from here. Within moments, it was done. On his tiptoes, he was able to grasp the flat, limestone edge of the roof and hauled himself up, biceps bulging, teeth gritted, coming to a neat crouch on the edge.
He pulled off his mask and glared at Akhmad. “Don’t look at me like that. It was empty.” Shaking his head, still agitated, he glanced up at the Kotas manor, visible from here. “Let’s go pick pockets down near the brothels. Make ourselves feel better?” With the plan for the rest of the night formed, Khanh moved quietly across the roof of the house and climbed down the other side, landing safely on the street and melting into the night.
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Feb 20, 2020 16:03:53 GMT
Posted In Anybody Home? on Feb 20, 2020 16:03:53 GMT
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Because they worked together so often, and for so many years, their movements were nearly as graceful and synchronized as a dance. He didn’t drop Nana until she was sufficiently gagged. The entire time, he’d stared into this girl’s eyes, wondering what had been going through her head, if anything had been going through at all. Mindless screaming. Heedless of the dangers before her. He was not concerned about their identities being known. For one, it was incredibly dark. It would be nearly impossible to tell what they looked like, and two, they were masked. Except for their eyes just above the bridge of their noses, there was nothing to see. Khanh knew he had a distinctive look but that was more in Egypt than here, where the people had hues of green, blue, brown, and gray. An entire gorgeous spectrum that hid him better.
He held out his hand for the fabric, not moving when he heard the knife slice into the curtain, giving off a brittle whisper, before the tail of the curtain was in his palm. Dropping Nana back onto the bed, he sank down on top of her in nearly the same motion. A loud sigh escaped through his nose as he flipped her over onto her stomach and jerked her hands behind her back. When he’d checked, and he had checked, there was no one here. This girl was ruining all his carefully laid plans. The nuisance of this was what was driving him to be so rough with her, rather than a hatred for her sex. Khanh liked women most of the time. He had no issues with Tiye, who’d been nothing but wonderful since he’d first met her. He just didn’t really like girls like the one he was trundling up like a chicken ready to be strung up. She was pretty enough but obviously too loud. Khanh preferred quiet people. They suited his life better.
Once he had Nana’s hands tied, he held out his hand for another sash for her ankles and made sure to cross them as he tied her in neat, pretty knots. It would be harder to hobble or even hop with her feet crossed over each other in this way. Then, he moved off her, where he’d been kneeling over her back, knees gripping her hips like she was a horse. For a single moment, he stood, one hand on his hip, the fingers of his other hand pinching the bridge of his nose as he closed his eyes, and sighed again. Wonderful. Just. Wonderful. A fun evening of thievery, ruined.
A third sigh escaped and he clapped his hands together, mentally getting himself back into his professional mode, and slid his arms underneath Nana, shifting her to hold her against his chest for a brief moment while he pulled back the covers of her bed to expose the sheets beneath. Once he had the top blanket back far enough, he settled her back down with her head on the pillow, and drew her blankets up over her body like she was sleeping. There. She’d ideally not be able to move until they were well and truly gone.
Glancing at Akhmad, whom he’d not checked on this entire time, he inclined his head towards her window. There was little point going back the way they came. Her momentary screeching might have alerted someone. Onwards and upwards, as it were. Leading the way, Khanh peaked his head out of the window, looked down, then twisted and looked up. Yes. If he stood on the sil, he’d have no problem reaching the lip of the roof from here. Within moments, it was done. On his tiptoes, he was able to grasp the flat, limestone edge of the roof and hauled himself up, biceps bulging, teeth gritted, coming to a neat crouch on the edge.
He pulled off his mask and glared at Akhmad. “Don’t look at me like that. It was empty.” Shaking his head, still agitated, he glanced up at the Kotas manor, visible from here. “Let’s go pick pockets down near the brothels. Make ourselves feel better?” With the plan for the rest of the night formed, Khanh moved quietly across the roof of the house and climbed down the other side, landing safely on the street and melting into the night.
Because they worked together so often, and for so many years, their movements were nearly as graceful and synchronized as a dance. He didn’t drop Nana until she was sufficiently gagged. The entire time, he’d stared into this girl’s eyes, wondering what had been going through her head, if anything had been going through at all. Mindless screaming. Heedless of the dangers before her. He was not concerned about their identities being known. For one, it was incredibly dark. It would be nearly impossible to tell what they looked like, and two, they were masked. Except for their eyes just above the bridge of their noses, there was nothing to see. Khanh knew he had a distinctive look but that was more in Egypt than here, where the people had hues of green, blue, brown, and gray. An entire gorgeous spectrum that hid him better.
He held out his hand for the fabric, not moving when he heard the knife slice into the curtain, giving off a brittle whisper, before the tail of the curtain was in his palm. Dropping Nana back onto the bed, he sank down on top of her in nearly the same motion. A loud sigh escaped through his nose as he flipped her over onto her stomach and jerked her hands behind her back. When he’d checked, and he had checked, there was no one here. This girl was ruining all his carefully laid plans. The nuisance of this was what was driving him to be so rough with her, rather than a hatred for her sex. Khanh liked women most of the time. He had no issues with Tiye, who’d been nothing but wonderful since he’d first met her. He just didn’t really like girls like the one he was trundling up like a chicken ready to be strung up. She was pretty enough but obviously too loud. Khanh preferred quiet people. They suited his life better.
Once he had Nana’s hands tied, he held out his hand for another sash for her ankles and made sure to cross them as he tied her in neat, pretty knots. It would be harder to hobble or even hop with her feet crossed over each other in this way. Then, he moved off her, where he’d been kneeling over her back, knees gripping her hips like she was a horse. For a single moment, he stood, one hand on his hip, the fingers of his other hand pinching the bridge of his nose as he closed his eyes, and sighed again. Wonderful. Just. Wonderful. A fun evening of thievery, ruined.
A third sigh escaped and he clapped his hands together, mentally getting himself back into his professional mode, and slid his arms underneath Nana, shifting her to hold her against his chest for a brief moment while he pulled back the covers of her bed to expose the sheets beneath. Once he had the top blanket back far enough, he settled her back down with her head on the pillow, and drew her blankets up over her body like she was sleeping. There. She’d ideally not be able to move until they were well and truly gone.
Glancing at Akhmad, whom he’d not checked on this entire time, he inclined his head towards her window. There was little point going back the way they came. Her momentary screeching might have alerted someone. Onwards and upwards, as it were. Leading the way, Khanh peaked his head out of the window, looked down, then twisted and looked up. Yes. If he stood on the sil, he’d have no problem reaching the lip of the roof from here. Within moments, it was done. On his tiptoes, he was able to grasp the flat, limestone edge of the roof and hauled himself up, biceps bulging, teeth gritted, coming to a neat crouch on the edge.
He pulled off his mask and glared at Akhmad. “Don’t look at me like that. It was empty.” Shaking his head, still agitated, he glanced up at the Kotas manor, visible from here. “Let’s go pick pockets down near the brothels. Make ourselves feel better?” With the plan for the rest of the night formed, Khanh moved quietly across the roof of the house and climbed down the other side, landing safely on the street and melting into the night.
Akhmad hadn't needed watching whilst Khanh worked because he hadn't been doing anything of great significance. Khanh was perfectly capable - and experienced - in tying up hostages and didn't exactly need aid with a single slip of a noble woman. Instead, he had moved to the door of the chambers, folded his arms and crossed his ankles, and leant against the wall that would permit him a view through the open doorway and down the corridor. If a guard or member of the family came running at the blonde's cry, he would need to warn Khanh that leaving sooner rather than later was preferable to a successful tie job.
When Khanh had completed the task at hand before any sign of hurrying footsteps or opening doors could be heard down the corridor - perhaps they had been lucky and the blonde's calls had not been heard by the slumbering family - Akhmad abandoned his post and followed his leader out the window, without a second glance at the young woman they had likely just traumatised.
Instead of stepping out and climbing as his superior did, Akhmad took a running charge at the window, latched hold of the stone edge at its top and swung his legs out in a solid and sweeping kick.
With the right curve and bend to his arms and the strength needed in his fingers to hold on, Akhmad's legs went skyward, until he was able to let go of the window and follow the arc of his own momentum.
Spinning in a complete, gymnastic circle, Akhmad's bound feet hit the roof and he landed in a low squat on the ceramic tile, absorbing the impact in his legs, before extending them and moving back to standing. He looked around at Khanh who was making an expression that clearly read - 'show off' - and said nothing when the man accused him of holding judgment in his eyes. One shoulder rose in response to Khanh's assurances that the house had been empty - damnit - when he had checked it over and, instead of arguing, Akhmad simply gave a nod at his suggestion of lining their pockets with the contents of someone else's.
At least with that they would be able to gain a little change and coin to start amassing in their hideout within the Lower Levels of the city...
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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Akhmad hadn't needed watching whilst Khanh worked because he hadn't been doing anything of great significance. Khanh was perfectly capable - and experienced - in tying up hostages and didn't exactly need aid with a single slip of a noble woman. Instead, he had moved to the door of the chambers, folded his arms and crossed his ankles, and leant against the wall that would permit him a view through the open doorway and down the corridor. If a guard or member of the family came running at the blonde's cry, he would need to warn Khanh that leaving sooner rather than later was preferable to a successful tie job.
When Khanh had completed the task at hand before any sign of hurrying footsteps or opening doors could be heard down the corridor - perhaps they had been lucky and the blonde's calls had not been heard by the slumbering family - Akhmad abandoned his post and followed his leader out the window, without a second glance at the young woman they had likely just traumatised.
Instead of stepping out and climbing as his superior did, Akhmad took a running charge at the window, latched hold of the stone edge at its top and swung his legs out in a solid and sweeping kick.
With the right curve and bend to his arms and the strength needed in his fingers to hold on, Akhmad's legs went skyward, until he was able to let go of the window and follow the arc of his own momentum.
Spinning in a complete, gymnastic circle, Akhmad's bound feet hit the roof and he landed in a low squat on the ceramic tile, absorbing the impact in his legs, before extending them and moving back to standing. He looked around at Khanh who was making an expression that clearly read - 'show off' - and said nothing when the man accused him of holding judgment in his eyes. One shoulder rose in response to Khanh's assurances that the house had been empty - damnit - when he had checked it over and, instead of arguing, Akhmad simply gave a nod at his suggestion of lining their pockets with the contents of someone else's.
At least with that they would be able to gain a little change and coin to start amassing in their hideout within the Lower Levels of the city...
Akhmad hadn't needed watching whilst Khanh worked because he hadn't been doing anything of great significance. Khanh was perfectly capable - and experienced - in tying up hostages and didn't exactly need aid with a single slip of a noble woman. Instead, he had moved to the door of the chambers, folded his arms and crossed his ankles, and leant against the wall that would permit him a view through the open doorway and down the corridor. If a guard or member of the family came running at the blonde's cry, he would need to warn Khanh that leaving sooner rather than later was preferable to a successful tie job.
When Khanh had completed the task at hand before any sign of hurrying footsteps or opening doors could be heard down the corridor - perhaps they had been lucky and the blonde's calls had not been heard by the slumbering family - Akhmad abandoned his post and followed his leader out the window, without a second glance at the young woman they had likely just traumatised.
Instead of stepping out and climbing as his superior did, Akhmad took a running charge at the window, latched hold of the stone edge at its top and swung his legs out in a solid and sweeping kick.
With the right curve and bend to his arms and the strength needed in his fingers to hold on, Akhmad's legs went skyward, until he was able to let go of the window and follow the arc of his own momentum.
Spinning in a complete, gymnastic circle, Akhmad's bound feet hit the roof and he landed in a low squat on the ceramic tile, absorbing the impact in his legs, before extending them and moving back to standing. He looked around at Khanh who was making an expression that clearly read - 'show off' - and said nothing when the man accused him of holding judgment in his eyes. One shoulder rose in response to Khanh's assurances that the house had been empty - damnit - when he had checked it over and, instead of arguing, Akhmad simply gave a nod at his suggestion of lining their pockets with the contents of someone else's.
At least with that they would be able to gain a little change and coin to start amassing in their hideout within the Lower Levels of the city...