group
He sighed and grabbed the gun. The first thing he checked was if it was loaded. It wasn’t. He scoffed but shoved it into his pocket anyways. He wandered around the shelves, pocketing random things that didn’t seem of interest to really anybody. But the mischief god knew exactly what he was doing. He had been at this for years. He was good at creating confusion and mischief.
"I need my jacket." Saros called, stopping in front of an unassuming wooden box, with minor gold detailing on the sides and lid. There was a crest carved into it, as well, one that had been lost to time but still evoked a bad feeling. She didn't pick it up.
group
He narrowed his eyes at the box, tossing her her hoodie once he had gotten close enough. “I don’t like that.” He murmured softly, biting his lip. “What is it?”
“Don’t know.” She said simply, shrugging a shoulder and digging through the pockets of the hoodie. After a moment, she just put it on, and then continued. Finding what she wanted, she pulled out a box roughly the same size, hefting it in her hands and studying the other box. Her brows drew together in a frown, and she was muttering something to herself in a completely random blend of languages.
group
Marcus watched her, shifting nervously. The box radiated something even he didn’t like. The god went back to searching the shelves, biting his lip as he watched her out of the corner of his eye. He didn’t want this human harming herself. He had yet to mess with her. He really was starting to get bored. He needed something to do.
After another moment of this, Saros shrugged, swapping the two boxes out with record speed. And setting off a small explosion. Thrown backwards by the force of the small blast, she hit the ground already getting up, grinning devilishly at Marcus as her eyes sparked and glinted with something almost crazy. There was a piece of wood imbedded in her side. “You wanted trouble, here we go. We should probably get out of here though. Before we’re caught.”
group
He gasped, thrown off balance by the force of it. He turned to look at her, his eyes narrowed. “Good gods woman.” He offered his hand, something sparkling in his eyes. He felt empowered by her presence. Her mischief was rather comforting to the lonely god.
Saros accepted the hand, letting him pull her up the rest of the way. She released it to tuck away the box, glancing around as sirens went off throughout the building. “Ooh, shiny.” Grabbing an old looking ring off of the ground amidst the rubble, she pocketed that too, and started for the door with odd ease considering the wood protruding from her side. Her hoodie shifted slightly, momentarily allowing a glimpse of some of the lash scars on her shoulders. “Let’s go!”
group
The god promised himself to heal the wound at some point. He liked the female. She gave off good vibes. Well, bad vibes but they were good to him.
“Mm I’ll help you with that,” he stated, pointing at her wood addition and laughing softly. He followed lazily after her again, glaring at the alarms. They were giving him a headache.
“Don’t worry your pretty little head about it.” The thief waved him off with a laugh, an almost imperceptible wince flashing across her face for just a split second. She shook it off quickly, leading the way back up and managing to avoid hallways with people. It felt too easy though.
“Don’t worry your pretty little head about it.” The thief waved him off with a laugh, an almost imperceptible wince flashing across her face for just a split second. She shook it off quickly, leading the way back up and managing to avoid hallways with people. It felt too easy though.
group
He hummed in response, narrowing his eyes. “I’m going to help you. Period. Don’t argue with me.” He replied with a scoff.
“I’m arguing.” She shot back, sticking her tongue out at him over her shoulder. And then she paused suddenly, head turning towards the end of the hallway, just before two large men cane around the corner.
group
He cursed lowly, looking at her with narrowed eyes. "You need first aid. Those who need first aid don't get a choice." He stuck his tongue back out at her, looking like an angry toddler. The sight of the men drew a sudden alarm in his body. He cursed the mortal mind for being so jumpy in the face of danger. "Ah shit this is unfortunate."
“I get a choice if I say I do.” She muttered to him, continuing at an easy and casual pace. A dark stain on her shirt grew larger and larger, had been doing so since she’d been hit. “Stay quiet.”
“Hey! You two! What are you doing down here?” One of the men called in a sloppy version of the native tongue spoken in the city, missing the way Saros subtly shifted her jacket to cover the injury somewhat.
“We heard the sirens, obviously.” Saros responded, in more fluent Jirsch than the man spoke, though still with the same commoners accent. “Came to see what was going on. There were noises coming from down this way, but it might’ve been you two, apparently.”
group
Marcus fell silent as she requested, staring at the stain with increased worry. Yes he was a god who really shouldn’t be around mortals, but he had a mortal brain right now. It was bound to make some attachments or feel some emotions. Completely his mortal body’s fault. Of course… that was it.
When she began to speak with the men, Marcus fell silent, unmoving as he did his bet to mask his face with a small charm. It was just enough to make his features unrecognizable as their prisoner.
The two men shared a look, and obviously a braincell, as the other one spoke in a gruff voice. "Makes sense. What's with this guy? Your boyfriend get his tongue cut out for insubordination or something? He looks like the type." How they hadn't thought of something as simple as the fact that they had never seen Saros and Marcus around was beyond the thief, but she wasn't complaining.
"Close enough. Acid down the throat, for exactly the same reason." She said, rolling her eyes as though that was more stupid to her than worrying. "That's why you just have to shut up until you're out of range. Honestly."
group
Marcus nodded his head, letting his expression grow saddened and dark. He tapped Saros’ shoulder and nodded towards the hallway’s end.
Hopefully he could convince the two idiots that they had to go so something important. He lifted his hand and gestured to a door again, pushing against her with his other hand.
"He in a hurry to get somewhere?" One of the men asked, raising an eyebrow as he looked between Saros and Marcus, eyes narrowing slightly.
"Obviously. Do you not hear the sirens?" Saros raised an eyebrow back, letting Marcus push her a few steps before stopping both of them. "Somebody's down here who shouldn't be, and for all we know, they're finding and doing things they shouldn't either."
"Fuck. Right. Hey, wait a second. Who sent you guys down here? We had to get one of the higher ups to unlock the door to the stairwell. And the only one here is Reisling, and he's been with us…" The man frowned, looking to his partner before studying the two intruders. "You don't work for us. We don't hire women for grunt work. not after last time." Reaching to his side, he drew his sword, his partner following.
"Oh, well. At least we know you have braincells." Saros chirped cheerfully, her sharp and wicked grin not matching the friendliness in her tone. "Lighter, mind taking the smaller one? I'm in the mood for a good ol' Goliath dynamic."
group
When the two finally came to the realization Marcus groaned. “Now you take the fun outta it. But I’ll give you your satisfaction. The little guy will do.” He sighed, looking to her with an air of boredom.
“You know, it’s not fair I get the unloaded gun.” He teased, grinning.
"Should've grabbed a knife." Saros said with a cheeky wink, moving suddenly and quickly. Striking fast as a snake, she was moving towards the larger man before he could even finish drawing his sword, a dagger in hand and lashing out at him. Just the chest, a minor laceration. She was toying with him, that much was obvious. Like a cat playing with a mouse, confident as hell despite any of her own short comings.
group
Marcus let the smaller male attack him first. He wanted to at least let the man think he had an advantage over a skinny, dirty teen instead of fighting against a god. The smaller male was quickly put into his place, however, as after a few dodges Marcus struck suddenly, his eyes narrowed. He didn't even need a knife to cut, a soft crimson glow to the markings that curved like eyeliner from his eyes to the edges of the bridge of his nose. He kept them well hidden, not wanting a human to realize those were the markings of a god on a body he had created for himself. A near identical body at that. His mortal capsule, a puppet to transfer himself into every now and then to have some fun. And his real, immortal body resting in a run-down temple atop the mountain a little ways away.
His mind returned to the fight when he felt a sudden heat sear across his abdomen. He gasped in anger, realizing he had just been slashed. He growled in annoyance, eyeing the guard angrily. "You ruined my shirt." He growled. He made sure Saros wasn't looking before he put the man down where he belonged on the power scale, only knocking him clean out. He didn't kill. He made that a large rule on his behalf. Killing was cruel to him.
Saros loved fighting. That was her addiction, the one high she'd found that soothed the constant restlessness itching in her limbs and mind, the itch to move and do something big satisfied by the feeling of engaging an opponent. It didn't matter to her whether she won or lost. She never lost, not anymore, after she'd realized her life was more often than not on the line, but there was a part of her that didn't mind. If she lost, at least she went down fighting, a blade in hand and the rush of adrenaline and an evil sort of glee in her veins.
She strung her opponent along like a kite on a string, dodging hits like she was smoke, intangible. She took plenty too, small scrapes and nicks, but most went without meeting her flesh. And without a single tell. Almost like swapping fighting styles and patterns every few moves, just as they started to get recognizable.
Then the handle of her blade was jutting out of the man's chest. Saros stood, watching him crumble to the ground with his eyes wide, gasping for breath. And now she didn't look gleeful, but still wicked as ever. "Jonathin Reeves, March eleventh, Urasaka Capitol." She whispered as she crouched, retrieving her dagger. She knew this group more than she let on, apparently, though her words wouldn't make much sense to anyone but the man, who looked confused, before recognition flickered across his features as he took his last breath.
group
Marcus scowled down at the dying man, crouching down once he had let out that rattling breath that marked the end of a life. He closed the dead man's eyes and stood straight again, looking down at his ripped shirt and gritting his teeth. He was pretty ticked about that. He turned to her, letting the crimson color fade from around his eyes. It was hardly recognizable now, he had made sure she wouldn't recognize his godly markings. They weren't the only ones upon his body, but those were more intimately hidden across his hip bones and thighs. The main marking spiraled down his back, looking like an intricate tattoo. The red never faded from that one. That was where he had marked the body as his own, using the thick, golden blood he shed from his own immortal wrist. Flashes of the pain of that night still rang in the core of his very being.
He shivered and stepped closer, suddenly lifting her arm to study the wood in her side. "Please, let me help you with this." He grunted, his emerald eyes begging her to let him aid. "Once we're out you can stay at my hideout. I have bandages and pain medication there. You won't be touched."
Saros's eyes flickered up as Marcus approached, the gold coloring somehow looking more like a predator's now than ever. It took her a moment to realize he was speaking, and as she blinked, the strange look that had overcome her faded. "You're really not gonna let this little splinter go, are you?" That was like calling a wolf a lapdog, but she didn't care. "I want you to tell me up front what I'm going to owe you, so I know whether being in debt is worth it. I don't usually do debt." She stood, wiping the blood off her dagger onto her tank top before it disappeared somewhere into the folds of her clothing. Wherever she was keeping this many things.
group
He frowned and shook his head. "I'm not going to let it go." He huffed, glancing up at her face when she mentioned a debt. "What the hell are you talking about? You won't owe me anything. I don't want anything from you." He spat, his eyes narrowing. They softened quickly, a look of regret passing through his eyes. "I can do a kind deed and not expect anything in return. But if you refuse that, then I ask that when you leave, you don't tell anyone about me. Not a single soul. I don't care if someone asks what you did while inside this place. Do not mention anything about me."
"Everyone wants something." She said, her own eyes narrowing at him and staying that way suspiciously. "Kind deeds are a myth, fictional on the streets. People are a means to an end, is what an old acquaintance of mine used to say, and he was right about that." Tucking her hands into her pockets, she carefully avoided upsetting her wound. "That's intriguing though. Fine, I'll tag along at the very least. Maybe I'll learn something about you to take with me when I'm supposed to forget you exist."
group
He shot her a look and grumbled to himself for a moment. "People can be kind to be kind." He stated simply, ending the matter there. If she tried to push it further, he'd refuse to respond. He shot her yet another look at her next choice in words, tugging her with him as he glanced around for an exit. "You don't have to forget I exist, you just have to make sure you tel no one else I exist. I'm trying to keep a low profile here."
She let him tug her along until they got to a hallway with multiple stairwells, taking a certain one that led up. "People can be kind to be kind. Wishful thinking." Shaking her head, she tugged her arm from his grasp, checking one of the cuts she'd received. "A low profile, huh? And why ever would you want that, when you could be known?"
group
He growled but did as he had led on to; remained silent about the matter. The gang member shoved his hands in his pockets when she took her arm back, looking around at the stairwell. “Being known leads to problems. I’d rather hole myself up in a temple and be lesser known than dawdled over and followed wherever I go. And I don’t want to be feared either. I don’t want to be some known criminal. I just want to do my thing and cause some mischief.”
