#and Celean??? needs to loosen up a bit more

[birdbeep1s]

wanted to share a couple silly doodles and a new character design i'm workin up!! meet the D/ancestor version of Elacra!! also featuring @rusttbuckett 's Damari and Milnko

[scribomaniac]

One Step Ahead, Chapter 6: Border Edges Pt. 1

Read from the beginning here!

Rowan saw Celaena's hand inching closer and he struck out, “Ow!” She cried, pulling her hand back to cradle it against her chest. “What was that for?”

Eye twitching, Rowan glared at her out of the corner of his eye and said, “You've changed the radio five times in the last five minutes, Celaena. Just choose an channel and stick with it, please,” he grounded out the last word. It was ridiculous, but true. The assassin had been fiddling with the damn radio ever since they'd gotten into the car just over two hours ago. At first he thought it was to avoid commercials—which was fine—but then she'd just change the channel mid song. During songs Rowan actually liked, too! He didn't know if Celaena had an ADHD problem when it came to listening to songs, but if she did she needed to get a handle on it. Rowan's patience couldn't take it.

“So?” The blonde challenged, leaning back in her seat and crossing her arms over her chest. She looked out to window, taking in the scenery. Not that there was much to take in. Just open fields and the occasional cow now that they were well and far away from Rifthold.

“Just knock it off,” Rowan's hands tightened around the steering wheel. He needed to cool down, relax. Easier said than done, however, when one was sitting next to the underworld's best killer in a four door sedan. He didn't even know where they were going. 'North,' she had said, 'We're heading north.' His knuckles had turned white so with much mental effort, he forced himself to loosen his grip.

Raising a foot to rest on the dash, Celaena pouted, “I'm hungry.”

“You should've brought something to eat.”

“Oh look,” she pointed to a home made banner hanging from the back of a decrepit looking barn, “Ma and Pa's Diner. That's cute. Let's check it out.”

Rowan's green eyes flitted to the sign, then back to the empty road before him, “No,” he said.

“No? What do you mean 'no'?”

“Surely this isn't the first time you've heard that word.”

“Oh, come on! It's just off the next exit. We're gonna have to stop somewhere anyway—we've got a long drive ahead.”

“What?” Rowan turned to look fully at her. “How far north are we going?”

Blinking slowly at him, a Cheshire grin stretched over her lips and she purred, “Take the next exit and I'll tell you.”

Holding back a snarl, Rowan's nostrils flared and he looked back to the road. The exit was approaching and he had to make a decision. Knowing he'd regret it later, he took the exit. Celaena hummed happily beside him, then reached again for the radio. Ma and Pa's Diner really was just off the exit and soon the establishment was in sight. “Well?” He asked, distracting her from her channel surfing. When she shook her head, confused, he continued, “Where are we going?”

Celaena transformed before him. Something in her changed, unraveled. Rowan couldn't understand it, but all of a sudden it was like he was looking at an entirely different person. Celaena looked . . . soft. The hard glint in her blue eyes had dulled, the sharp tension in her jaw loosened, her shoulders slumped down ever so slightly and her smile . . . Rowan hoped he'd never forget how she smiled at him now. It was pure, genuine, unadulterated. It was a smile he didn't think someone like her was capable of producing.

“Terrasen,” she said, her voice breathless and almost dreamy.

Gulping, Rowan realized his mouth had gone dry. His thoughts turned fuzzy and his brain felt like his funny bone when hit just so. That smile had short circuited him and he didn't know how to reboot.

“Finally,” Celaena's voice broke through the haze that clouded his mind and he blinked. They were in the diner's parking lot. The Cleaner thought, briefly, that he should be worried about having lost at least three minutes worth of time, but then the blonde was talking again and his thoughts hones in on her, “I'm starving.” She unbuckled her seat belt and, without waiting for Rowan, hopped out of the car.

Shaking his head, trying to shake the cob webs that had been weaved in his head, Rowan rubbed his fingers into his temples. He needed to refocus himself. This was just another cleaning job. True, it was an unusual one with all the running around and the fact that no one was dead—yet—but a cleaning job nevertheless. So what if she smiled at him? So what if it was the most beautiful smile he'd seen since—well, since a long time? She was an assassin, he reminded himself. Adarlan's Assassin. He dragged a hand down his face. It was an act, he told himself. All of it was just an act. A way to lull him into a false sense of security so she could . . . well, he wasn't sure what. Kill him most likely. Steeling himself, he decided two could play this game.

Getting out of his car and heading into the diner, Rowan quickly found Celaena sitting in a booth, perusing a menu. Sliding into the booth across from her, he asked, “What looks good?”

Blue eyes flashed up to his green ones, her curiosity piqued. Handing him the menu, she raised a brow in silent challenge, “Take a look for yourself.” Why are you so interested now? Was the unspoken question swirling behind her eyes.

He took the menu and shrugged. We're here aren't we? Might as well make the best of it. Celaena hummed, “Their milkshakes sound delicious. And their cheese fries.”

“Let's hope everything tastes as good as it sounds.”

“Trust me honey,” a deep, raspy voice said. Rowan looked up to see their waitress, a stocky woman with short, curly red hair, staring down at him. She held a pad of paper in one hand and a pencil in the other, ready to take their order. The name tag on her white shirt read 'Ma'.

Celaena snorted. I like her, her eyes seemed to say, she ain't taking your shit.

Rowan almost rolled his eyes—it was a near miss—and glared at the assassin. I wasn't giving her any shit.

The blonde actually did roll her eyes, Whatever your say, bird for brains.

Glaring harder, he wanted to strangle her. He wasn't giving anyone shit. He just wanted his food to taste good. “So what can I get for the two of you?” Ma asked.

“I'll have the double cheese burger with a side of cheese fries and a vanilla milkshake. Oh, and a slice of cherry pie, thanks.”

Ma nodded, writing it all down, and looked back to Rowan. “I'll have . . .” he trailed off, looking back at the menu. There were so many options and he hadn't much time to actually look at anything. “The same,” he finished lamely, handing Ma his menu. “Except a chocolate shake instead of vanilla.”

“Whatever floats your boat, sweet-cheeks,” she said monotonously before walking behind the counter and giving the kitchen their order.

Rowan watched after her for a few seconds, astounded. No one had ever called him sweet-cheeks before. No one had ever dared.

“Oh, I like her,” Celaena laughed.

“Yeah, you've said that,” Rowan turned back to look at her.

Celeane raised a brow and grinned, “Have I? Said it, that is? I don't think I have, actually.” Heat rose to his cheeks. She was right. She hadn't actually said it. “Now, now, Mr. Whitethorn, hasn't anyone ever told you that reading people's minds is rude?”

Shut up, his glare said.

Make me, her toothy smile responded.

“Order up,” Ma's raspy voice announced as she placed to plates full of greasy food in front of them. “Hope you enjoy,” she gave Rowan a look and then left.

“So,” Celeana began, talking around a bite of her burger, “what's your story?”

The white haired man paused mid bite, “Excuse me?” Cheese feel from his fry. He glanced down, to make sure it didn't fall onto him, and then followed through with the bite.

“Your story,” she shrugged and wiped her mouth then began slurping up her vanilla shake.

“That's . . . personal,” and painful, if he was being honest. Flashes of dark skin and soft, chestnut hair crossed his memory and he shuddered. No, now wasn't the time for those memories.

The assassin snorted, “No shit. That's why I asked.” When she saw that he wasn't going to budge, wasn't going to tell her his story, she sighed. “Fine. Less personal. How'd you become a Cleaner?”

“How'd you become an assassin?” He bit out, not liking all the questions.

Celaena blinked, “Arobynn, of course,” she said like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “How else?” She shoved five fries into her mouth.

Taking advantage of her chewing, Rowan pressed, “And how did you come to be under his tutelage? You were, what, ten when you started your training? That's pretty young—even for our line of business.”

Swallowing, the assassin took her time washing down the fries with another sip of her shake before answering, “I was nine, actually, when Arobynn took me in.”

“Took you in?”

“He found me on the streets,” she shrugged. “I probably would've died if it weren't for him.”

“And your parents?”

And just like that Celaena shut down, and Rowan found himself sitting across from Adarlan's Assassin. Her mask went up and her eyes turned dull and cold. She tapped her index finger against the table top twice before saying, “Personal.”

Lifting a brow, the Cleaner raised his milkshake glass in a mock toast, Not so fun, is it? Slowly, ever so slowly, the icy wall that the blonde had thrown up chipped away as Celaena began to relax again. “So . . .” he began slowly, “What's your favorite season?” It was the only thing he could think of—and he wanted to slap himself on the back of the head for it—but Celaena didn't call him out on it. In fact, she seemed interested—amused, even.

And then they began talking. About nothing and everything. Weather, clothes, music, fighting styles, past jobs, and so much more. Anytime either asked a questions the other didn't want to answer, they'd respond, “Personal,” and move on to the next topic. Rowan never thought he'd learn so much about a person without actually learning about them personally. He knew nothing about Celaena's past before Arobynn Hamel found her. He knew nothing of her family, her heritage, her childhood, but he knew her favorite color was green though she hardly ever wore it. Knew that summer was her favorite season because it was just one huge excuse to set off fireworks. Knew that she loved dogs, but had never had one because their profession didn't allow it. Over the course of one meal, Rowan Whitethorn had learned so many wonderful facts about Celaena Sardothien.

He also learned so many terrible facts. Like how she had a scar on the inside of her bicep from a job gone wrong, how she broke her own thumb to learn how to escape handcuffs so Arobynn wouldn't, how she'd first killed someone when she was eleven and had vomited as soon as she returned home. It was strange. Rowan felt as if he were completing a puzzle from the inside out. He didn't have the border, just the middle pieces to work off of. He had the main image, the substance of it all, but he didn't have the structure that gave it context. Without the border pieces, the edgeless pieces could go on forever. He'd get lost in it.

“Oops,” Celaena ducked behind her empty milkshake glass sheepishly, “Ma's glaring at us again.”

“Again?” Rowan looked over his shoulder and true enough, the older woman was staring straight at them with a hand on her hip and her fot tapping the floor impatiently. “Why?”

“Probably because we've been sitting here for two hours without ordering anything.”

Looking at the clock on his cell phone, Rowan hummed with surprise. Celaena for once wasn't using hyperbole. They really had been sitting in the diner for two hours. “Guess that means we should get going?”

“Unless we want to be added to the menu, I think that's a good idea.” Rowan reached into his coat pocket for his wallet, but Celaena reached over and stopped him with a hand on his bicep. “Don't worry, it's on me.” She pulled out a wad of cash from her own coat pocket and smiled crookedly, “Or, more accurately, it's on Arobynn.”

Brows raising to his hair line, Rowan whistled lowly, “I thought you two were on the outs.” At least, that's the impression he got when he visited the Assassin's Guild.

“Oh, we are,” Celaena cofirmed. Looking into his green eyes, she added, “Did I mention I know the combination to Arobynn's safe? No? Well,” she placed several bills beneath her milkshake glass, “he won't miss it.”

“You sure?” Rowan's mind began moving a mile a minute. Was that how she got her hands on Arobynn's necklace? She took it from his vault? If so, Arobynn was a bigger fool than Rowan had originally given him credit for. “He seems like the type to notice something like that.”

“Trust me,” she rolled her eyes and shrugged on her coat, “He's not. He keeps track of slights and kills, not money. One time a hundred dollar bill fell out of his pocket and he didn't even notice. Now come on,” she urged, sliding out of the booth, “Ma's making her way over here.”

“Fine, but you're driving,” he tossed her the keys, grabbed his coat and led the way out of the diner. Hearing her huff behind him, Rowan felt a smile pulling at his lips and he turned to walk backwards while facing her. “You know what this means right?”

“What? That I don't get to take a post gorging nap like I had planned?”

Chuckling, Rowan shook his head, “Well yes, that, but it also means I get control of the radio.”

Celaena squawked, quickening her pace to the car, “No it does not!”