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nekhbetkhalid · 7 years

Text

death came in the form of a man.

WHO ; Nekhbet & Hadrian WHERE ; a low lit quiet back ally in between two buildings in bearoria. WHAT ; Hadrian follows and catches Nekhbet assassinating a man.

Nekhbet: Nekhbet had yet to kill the man in Dracborough, this was taking far longer than he would have liked; although to be fair he had found himself a bit distracted as of recently. Still he had to strike soon, he didn't have the kind of time he would have preferred either as the kill itself was a time sensitive one he had be told. The vulture needed to act now or lose a substantial amount of coin, he thinks the best time to strike is currently as things had started to settled down and people decided to settle back into Bearoria. His target would be like a sheep to the slaughter, hood up he creeps, he had tried to wear something inconspicuous for once, something to blend in as if he was but just another traveler, a common colored cloak of course, still it was something to conceal his face well enough if he kept his head down.

Nekhbet: He doesn't for a moment, trying to get an angle on his surroundings, green hues flicker with delight, the thrill of the hunt. This was just business yes— but gods did he love what he did. It is then that he spots the target and Nekhbet begins to weave in and out of the small crowd, the man seemed to be heading to whatever chambers he’d had for the night; the vulture follows at a far enough distance that he feels comfortable. It was perfect that the other man (just as Nekhbet had expected) walked down between two low lit buildings to make his way to assumedly the tavern not far from here. The man had a perchance for doing such things, as the vulture had took note of back in Dracborough.

Nekhbet: It is then that he strikes, slinking and dashing forward, boots digging into the dirt of the alleyway as he takes off; one of his blades flicking out from under his cloak all the while it breezes. Before the man can even fully turn around at the briefest of noises, the assassin already has a blade to his throat, slicing across flesh, it’s bloodier than his usual work; but he doesn’t want his usual work to be noticed this time, he wants this to look sloppy, messy; something akin to a simple robbery. There were too many royals here and he doesn’t want to get too overly noticed right now when he’s stuck with them. Hadrian: Bearoria. It wasn't a damned hellhole like Norden, but it was no Dracborough. Hadrian is grateful, however, for the chance to see the world. There were always new people to meet, new stories to tell, and he could see so many more if he left his home on occasion. One particular experience briefly before his departure weighed heavy on the bard’s mind; was it by coincidence or divine design, he wondered, that he should come across the subject of these persistent thoughts that night? Hadrian is drunk, but far less drunk than usual, as he exits a little tavern he’s discovered (the first place you look for in a new location, of course). Hadrian: There is a man; he doesn’t think he knows him, but the man behind him... that man, he knows. He doesn’t have time to approach him, to decide whether or not to say hello before he watches him pull out a knife, and...

Hadrian: He’s never watched a man die, so he doesn’t know what to expect. The blood sprays; he would have thought it would ooze out, like sap from a tree, and he wonders what’s in a man’s throat to make it bleed like that. The warm spray hits him, and he flinches, momentarily stunned. He doesn’t know what to say, or what to do, so he doesn’t say or do much of anything at first, staring down at the specks of red against the pale of his hands.

Hadrian: After a long moment of stunned silence, he speaks. “Remind me not to ever anger you.” He reaches up to wipe what he assumes to be blood from his cheek, but only succeeds in spreading it around. Oh, gods, he hoped it wasn’t in his hair. Nekhbet: Nekhbet digs deeper into the mans throat, he has to make sure the job is finished, he’s being sloppy for a reason but he doesn’t want to be so sloppy he ends up dead. It is somewhere between the last gurgle of a sound that his target utters before the assassin feels him go limp that he notices that a familiar face is in front of him. His eyes are wide as he looks to the bard, teeth gritting before he mutters out a curse. “Fuck.” It’s all he can say for a moment as he lets pulls back the blade and wipes it off on the targets body (corpse), before letting it drop to the ground with a hard thud. Nekhbet: There is nothing graceful or beautiful about what he’s just done, he wishes that there had been; this was not something he’d of wanted Hadrian to see. For a number of reasons, the first two coming to mind being that if he was going to show someone his proverbial art form so to speak, he would have much preferred it to be a more fluid or poetic kill. The second reason being that anyone who saw him kill for business or pleasure didn’t live to tell the tale; or in this case sing songs about it. Nekhbet: He should kill the other man, by all means everything in his very being is going off right now telling him to, protect yourself his mind rings out; just as you have always done...Nekhbet takes a step forward (as if he might) and around the body, knife still between his fingertips. He’s surprised though when Hadrian doesn’t run, perhaps he is too scared too? That’s usually what happens, it is then though that he makes a quip and the assassin can’t help but halt in his steps. Nekhbet: “You...you’re not going to try and run?” His eyes narrow, for once Nekhbet finds himself confused, after a moment he takes another step, sliding the blade back down into it’s holster. Hadrian was covered in blood, gods this was not supposed to happen, this was not supposed to happen...Shaking his head the vulture moves to perhaps do the kindest gesture he’s ever done (besides not killing the bard) he takes off his cloak and attempts to wipe away the blood on Hadrian. “I’ll have to burn this now, you know.” Hadrian: Hadrian wants to feel sick, or afraid, or anything that a normal person would feel in this situation. It alarms him that he doesn't; he's strangely calm, calmer than he had been around him before. "Should I?" It occurs to him that Kael is still holding the knife, and that Hadrian had just witnessed him murdering someone in cold blood, and that he really doesn't know him that well. He has far more reasons to kill him than to spare him. But instead he finds him wiping at the blood that he hadn't succeeded in cleaning off himself, a strangely gentle gesture that makes Hadrian feel a bit like a child. "Hm. Yes, I suppose you will." He still isn't sure what to say. "Does it always make such a mess?" The question assumes that the man has murdered before, but Hadrian doesn't think that's an unfair assumption to make. Nekhbet: He hadn’t seen blood sputter out like that in awhile, even Nekhbet had been (admittedly) caught off guard by it, he probably hit an artery or something he thinks, he wouldn’t be surprised by how deep he went with the blade. His shoulders roll and he lets out a long sigh, this was all too much and yet the bard wasn’t dead, yet. The warning signs are still going off in the vultures head but he’s choosing to ignore them the best he can, it’s funny that the smallest of thoughts is the loudest one; the one telling him not to take back out his blade and gut Hadrian just as easy as he had the other man. Nekhbet doesn’t want to hurt Hadrian though, at least not in a way that leaves him breathless; or he takes that back he’d leave Hadrian breathless just not dead. Nekhbet: “Well you did say to remind you to never make me angry, that would be a quick way to do it.” He says it as if it’s a joke, perhaps it is or perhaps it isn’t; Nekhbet doesn’t know anymore as the smallest of cheeky smiles creeps on his lips— as if there isn’t a dead body slumped to the ground mere feet away from them. “Not usually no,” His voice quiet as he gazes around to make sure nobody else had witnessed his crime. What were the chances that it had been Hadrian of all people, if there were indeed gods they had been humorous in this moment; thankfully the assassin sees no one else. “Usually I don’t have an audience and usually it’s more...” He gestures with a hand, as if this was a casual moment but inside his heart is racing, “fluid, less knife work if I can help it.” Not that he minded getting down and dirty by any means. Hadrian: “Mmm.” Hadrian nods, as if he’d just simply been given a piece of mundane information, and they hadn’t been talking about murder. He looks down at the body; blood pooled on the cobblestone, dark and thick, and the wide wound in the man’s throat was a truly gruesome sight. “Usually,” Hadrian repeats, a bit dazed. That confirmed his suspicions, though he didn’t know if it was for money or for pleasure just yet. He isn’t sure which he wants to hear. “It… occurs to me that we should probably move along. And wash up, perhaps.” Nekhbet: Hadrian was right, in all of his haze at the situation (like a dear when you’ve spooked them) he had been more aware of the need to leave the scene, than Nekhbet had even thought about for the briefest of moments. Far too caught up in the situation than he would of liked, he nods, this could be bad this could just be a ploy to get to safety…still he doesn’t think it is. Nekhbet knows liars (he has to look at one in the mirror everyday) and Hadrian doesn’t seem like he’s lying right now, or trying to get an angle over on him. The man is still too busy processing everything Nekhbet has and hasn’t told him he gathers, he can’t help but think yet again how fucked up beyond belief this was. He’d been too sloppyhonestly, he decides then and there he wouldn’t make that mistake again, even if he had the best of reasoning for doing so. Mostly because now he had a weakness, an opening for others to dig at and claw away the layers of. Nekhbet: “You’re right, lets.” He makes a motion to move them both away from the scene of the crime, it’s late and he’s thankfully it seemed most everyone was already settled into taverns or the castle; some stragglers still out but far too busy on more well lit walking paths. Nekhbet still stuck to the ones less traveled either way. “I saw a well back this way, we’ll clean up there. We go back into the tavern like this and we’re both done for.” Nekhbet was good at lying, obviously— but he wasn’t that good, at least not enough to explain the body the next day if they’d been noticed all bloody. Though to be fair only Nekhbet’s gloves had gotten dirty, the rest of him had been surprisingly clean, he supposed that’s because it got all over Hadrian, yikes, his bad. Hadrian: Hadrian nods again; it seems to be all he's capable of doing. He isn't afraid, but he's shocked, and terribly unfamiliar with how to react in situations such as this. He follows close by Kael, keeping a careful eye on his surroundings. He hadn't killed anyone, but the moment he'd gone along with Kael instead of running and yelling for help, he'd become guilty as well. They reached the well within minutes, and Hadrian went ahead of his companion, sitting down on the edge of it and looking down at himself. Oh, what a mess. "This was a good tunic," he grumbled. "You owe me some clothes. And a drink." Hadrian could hardly afford clothing; it was a shame to lose a nice piece to bloodstains. "Are you going to help me?" He feels a bit of his normal confidence coming back, and he looks up at Kael, a single eyebrow raised in question. Nekhbet: The moment Hadrian goes ahead of him is a moment that Nekhbet’s heart briefly stops, gods he’s so paranoid, too paranoid; but he’d never let anyone else see him like this, he feels as though the whole walk to the well he’d been naked in a metaphorical sense. Nekhbet doesn’t like feeling vulnerable, or feeling anything at all for that matter other than fleeting dangerous emotions. Still when he approaches the other man and hears him grumble he is reminded why he didn’t kill him back in that alleyway. “It was, I think it would have looked better on the floor of my room though.” He comments wryly back, feeling his own sense of self coming back to him, whatever sense of self he thought he was in need of at the moment anyway. Sometimes the assassin finds it hard to figure out where he started and Kael began, or any of the other people he’d pretended to be over the years. Nekhbet: “I’ll buy you both, you name it and it’s yours.” It wasn’t that he was trying to win over the bard but he had recalled a time when he’d somewhat showed off that he wasn’t a broke man by any means. That and the added fact that Hadrian was seemingly going to keep quiet about things now that he’d went along with him. Nekhbet figures (for now) that things are going good in light of being witnessed. Smiling almost softly for a change, Nekhbet hums quietly and shakes his head in agreement as he moves to pull the rope; making the bucket go down into the well, before bringing it back up again once it’s filled with water. He moves his crumpled up cloak from under his arms and wets it some to try and (gently) get some of the blood off of Hadrian’s skin first. Nekhbet: His eyes momentary locking to Hadrian’s and he can’t help but think that the mess of slowly drying blood on otherwise pristine pale skin looks almost...lovely. It’s a sick thought, though to be fair Nekhbet didn’t really have any good thoughts. “You are just exquisite, do you know that?” There’s a grin playing on his face as he recalls what Hadrian had said to him that drunken night they had together, it’s not a mocking tone so much as it is a sly one, he hadn’t forgotten those words, how could he? He’d been with many men and women alike, (more women than men of course) yet Hadrian had really been one of the few not to make a deal out of...well him; if anything the fact he’d said such a thing flattered Nekhbet. He does mean it though when he repeats it back to the bard, eventually his eyes advert back to what he was doing, slowly moving the cloth down from Hadrian’s face to his neck, he wants to kiss it; his neck that is, he holds himself back if only for the fact that they are in public (though he does like to live dangerously). This would already seem questionable if they were to be caught and Nekhbet didn’t want to leave a trail of bodies and more questions behind. Nekhbet: “I’m an assassin.” He finally says rather bluntly, as if he’d been asked but, he supposed it was only natural for it to eventually come up and at this point what did he have left to lose (beyond his life). “For business and pleasure for the record.” His eyes flicker back up, the cloth now resting in Hadrian’s hands his own on top. He’s curious to see the reaction, he can’t help himself nor can he help but wonder if that changes anything between them; whatever it was that they had anyway. Hadrian: Hadrian snorts at Kael's comment, feeling an involuntary little smirk on his lips. When he stops to think for a moment, he realizes that he should have been damn near traumatized. He's a bard, a writer and musician and reader; a thinker and a talker. He doesn't fight. He's never seen anyone die. He's never killed anyone. He has never even held a real weapon in his life. And it had shocked him, seeing something like that from someone he knew, but just minutes later, he was fine. Laughing and smiling like it was just another night. Maybe he isn’t the delicate little daisy of a man he’d always thought he was. Hadrian: “Are you certain you want to tell me that? I have expensive tastes. I was a rich man in a past life, I think. Must have done something terrible to make the gods punish me with this life, now.” He lets the man clean him up, his hands folded in his lap, entirely unhelpful. He adores the feeling of being cared for, and the fact that Kael had gone and done just that without thinking twice about it. How sweet, he thinks, with only a hint of sarcasm. Hadrian: It is a strangely intimate few minutes, and Kael is looking at him like he wants to just eat him up. He thinks he can’t possibly look even remotely appealing right now, but something told him that his friend likely wasn’t turned off by a little bit of blood. His next words confirm that, and Hadrian is sure his face has turned a horrible shade of red. He’s embarrassed to be complimented in such a way, and even more embarrassed by the callback to Hadrian’s own comment towards the other the last time they’d been together.Hadrian: He isn’t all that surprised by the admission. There were only a number of things that explained what he’d just seen, and that was one of them. It had already crossed his mind. “Ah. So I've nothing to worry about from you, then, unless I anger someone with a bit of money.” Nekhbet: He shouldn’t have told the other man that, he thinks, he shouldn’t have cleaned him up so tenderly or looked at him in any way that didn’t involve Hadrian’s body going limp in his arms now, or back where they started moments ago. He shouldn’t be doing any of this and yet he is, he doesn’t rightfully a good explanation for it, although Nekhbet doesn’t usually have a good explanation for a lot of things other than; he wants to and so he does. The vulture supposed that was the case right now, his mind hadn’t forgotten about that night back in Dracborough, hadn’t forgotten the bard (un-admittedly he’d even been back a few times after that to quietly listen to him in the back of the tavern before stalking off into the night), how he’d wanted to forget about him; because forgetting was far easier than feeling and as much as he hated Ironhaven, that’s the first thing that hellhole taught him was a lesson on forgetting. Nekhbet: This wasn’t love, because the vulture didn’t love and because he’d barely known the man, nor was he even sure what love was other than a foreign concept...still it was something, something that he hadn’t been able to ignore as he’d done with previous one night stands. Hadrian was better than that, for whatever mundane reasons Nekhbet had decided; he was. “Oh I am sure,” His tone matter of fact but with just a hint of that devilish attitude he’d been known for. “I don’t know, I think you seem like a pretty lucky man to me, gifted with wits, a pretty voice and” He pauses briefly, grinning and biting at his tongue a bit, “those hands with that face— ” Nekhbet laughs lowly, deeply, his paranoia briefly causing him to look around them once more before back to Hadrian. Nekhbet: “besides fuck the gods,” Nekhbet hadn’t been dealt the easiest of hands either, he’s sure the little scars that riddled his body told that much, nor was he one to believe that some higher beings would have control over him if they even existed. In his eyes there wasn’t even a god of death, unless he counted himself; after all did he not bring such things in his wake? He made his own way and he earned his own way; Hadrian could do the same, did the same perhaps. Nekhbet somehow doubted that the man had been born talented as hard as that might of been to believe with how wonderful he sounded. Part of him feels disgusted that he’s cleaning the other man up while another part of him feels both hungry and almost nurturing; it is a strange mix of emotions that he stifles down. Though that seems harder when red flushes Hadrian’s face, he snorts out the smallest of laughs, he can’t help it, he hadn’t expected to earn that sort of look from him and honestly he’s eating it up. Nekhbet: He finds himself halfway between relieved by the last comment, while also amused. “Usually that’s how it works, yeah. I don’t want you dead so there’s that, naked preferably, but not dead.” Nekhbet moves his hands and leans up, as if to dust himself off before he realized that his gloves were still dirty, he takes them off and tucks them away to burn later. “If you fold the cloak the other way you can put it over your clothes, it’ll look a little damp but I doubt anyone's going to notice till you get a change of clothing.” Hadrian: Kael seems so determined in his flattery of Hadrian; most intelligent people would claim that flattery did not get one anywhere with them, but as far as the bard is concerned, it gets one everywhere. He is a…convenient lover for most of his companions; drunk and impulsive and lustful, and always ready at the jump with the flowery words and poetic compliments that his typically attention-starved lovers craved. And he is a giver, in all respects. People take what he has to give, and then they leave, and he doesn't mind. But this isn't that, and he can't help but think that it's nice. Hadrian: "Yes, yes," he agrees with the compliments rather nonchalantly with a dismissive wave of his hand. "But I want more than that." He wants a great deal more than that, he thinks, but he is content to start with just the material things. "I would be a most gracious recipient of any gifts you wish to give. Most gracious, indeed," he adds with a playful smile. Hadrian: "Ahh." He chuckles. "I'm relieved to hear that. Though, if your mind is ever changed by a heavy bag of coins, I would like you to know that I'd prefer something a bit more…poetic than a slit throat. An arrow through the heart, perhaps…or a drop of poison in a glass of sweet red wine." He nearly smiles at the thought. "Something dramatic. And you can certainly think of something; any good assassin is an artist in their own right. But do be thoughtful. I want them to sing songs about it." He takes the cloak with a sigh; there is a pause once he's well and covered before he finally adds, "And should I ever want to see someone dead, you would be a useful friend to have." He grins at the other man before jumping to his feet. "Now, escort me back to the tavern, would you? There are dangerous people lurking about." Nekhbet: So nonchalant he takes the complements, Nekhbet could never take them so lightly like that, it’s always been rather visible on him when his ego is being stroked, among other things; it’s when his mask falters the most he’s afraid. “More? Then take it, take what you want Hadrian, it’s not as hard as you might believe.” There’s a coy smile on his lips and he motions his head as if he’s making a point but honestly he meant less about them and more just about Hadrian actually just taking what he wanted from the world, it’s what Nekhbet did anyway. “In any case I’ll keep that in mind, you keep looking at me like that and I won’t be able to say no.” He admits, he could very well say no, did he want to though was the better question, the answer being he didn’t. Nekhbet: Idly he wonders if his mind could ever be swayed, he thinks perhaps that it could be, he wasn’t a hard man to buy off depending on how heavy the coin bag was...but...he also thinks he wouldn’t have nearly as much amusement or pleasure in his life after killing the bard, there’d also be significantly less music too. He’d have to weigh out all the pros and cons if the time ever came, surely he thinks he’d want to pass the dead along to someone else but the more he thinks about that the more it disgusts him; Hadrian deserved more than some two bit rate assassin. He deserved the poetic and dramatic death he wanted by only the best and maybe Nekhbet was just being full of himself but he didn’t think he had a nickname for nothing. Nekhbet didn’t need much of a reason to think he deserved better either, he simply thought that and so he believed it, no more no less. This is all hypothetical of course, he doesn’t foresee having to kill the bard and actively wants to avoid it if he had anything to do with it. Gods, was he losing his edge, how...disgusting. Nekhbet: “Oh if you’d of only seen the things I’ve done, I’m sure I could come up with something people would sing about for centuries to come.” He wants to dwell on the many ways he might kill the bard, if only to stifle down the fact he thinks he’s losing his edge around him. “Although I must say, you sound as though you’ve thought about this yourself, ever consider using your skills for...more.” He brings back the notion of more, there would always be more to want, even Nekhbet knew that, it’s why he did what he did. “People would trust a pretty faced bard, surely that’s advantageous in the right field.” He wants to believe he isn’t sure what he’s getting at but the sly smile he gives Hadrian tells otherwise, besides the vulture was a lot of things but never stupid or one to mince words. Nekhbet: He starts to lead them both back towards the tavern, walking them down a different path now, he didn’t want to go back the way they’d came, still he acts casual about it as if they’ve done nothing wrong; almost so well that he could believe it. “Should you ever want someone dead I am the most useful friend to have, I can name a few other things I’m useful for though too.” He laughs, especially when he thinks more on the dangerous people comment. “Of course my friend, you’ll have no finer escort in all of Zenan.” He gives way to a mock bow continuing onward. Hadrian: "If I took everything I wanted, there would be nothing left for anyone else." He says it with a smile, a light tone, but he knows the words still might seem sinister. He doesn't bother to clarify either way. "I will settle for whatever pretty, shiny things you can provide." He flashes a toothy grin. He is starting to get the impression that his friend is not a poor man, and he knows that wealthy men love to spend their gold on illicit love affairs. It's one of the facts of life he appreciates the most. In all fairness, however, he assumes there must be a difference between a rich criminal and the perfumed and stuffy nobles he is accustomed to. Hadrian: "My dear Kael, are you suggesting what I think you're suggesting?" Hadrian feigns horror at the thought, but a smile plays on his lips. He doesn't find it even a remotely realistic prospect, to be like Kael, but it certainly doesn't horrify him. It is a fascinating thing, in reality. "These hands have never held a real weapon. Surely a thing like that is something to consider more so than my so-called pretty face." Hadrian: He lets himself be led away, noting that they are taking a new route. A smart move, but there is no one to be seen anyway. He takes this prime opportunity to catch up to him, wrapping his arms around the man's arm and clinging to him. "My hero," he says with a dramatic sigh. It is all in jest, of course, but he doesn't let go after that. He wants to see how long he can get away with it. Nekhbet: “Oh but that’s the idea.” There’s an almost equally sinister smile playing on Nekhbet’s face to match the implications of Hadrian’s tone. “Oh you wouldn’t have to settle, I don’t.” Nekhbet didn’t settle for anything, if he couldn’t get something he’d take it one way or another, it wasn’t the best ways to be but he wasn’t the best man either; he rather likes the grin on the bards face though, it’s playful and fun and leaves him wanting to keep up their banter, so he does. Nekhbet: “As if you’re mortified by the thought, If you had been you’d of left the moment you saw me tonight.” His words are flat but his tone is not as he lets out a snort, if Hadrian had been disgusted he’d of left by now, one way or another, he’s glad that the other man didn’t leave though. “there’s always poison.” Nekhbet muses out loud, it’s what he usually used anyway— but he gets what the other is saying never the less so he doesn’t push his luck. “Still you’re right, it took me years to get where I’m at, although I like to think,” He pauses waving a hand for emphasis, he tended to do that quite often, talk with his hands now and again that is; Nekhbet: “I’m a cut above the rest, pun intended.” Another snort of laughter but before he knows it Hadrian is wrapping his arms around one of his own, if there was ever the briefest most fleeting moment of red on his face it was then. Blood rushing to his cheeks before he coughs to stifle a laugh; he keeps walking, idly letting his eyes fall to Hadrian before looking back around them. Thankfully it had been just them, Hadrian must of known that, the sneaky bastard, oh two could play that game though, Nekhbet: He leans into the other male, somewhere between resting on him and continuing to walk. “I’m no hero and you’re no damsel in distress, surely though that just makes it all the better.” His fingers interlace between Hadrian’s, as eyes carefully scan around them, they would draw near the tavern soon; he didn’t want to be the first to break the contact now, he’d almost out right refused losing what he’d thought was a teasing game on Hadrian’s part. Hadrian: "I haven't a problem in the world with your profession, it's true. I wouldn't think twice about doing it, if I had any talent for it. But I don't think I do. I think it's safe to say my talents lie elsewhere." He smiles, and he wonders what it was that made his friend suggest such a thing, no matter how subtly it was brought forth. It was not something most people would pick out as a line of work he was suited for, and someone who was an assassin themselves would surely know more about what it took. Hadrian: "Are you excited by the thought of it?" It's a question he thinks he knows the answer to, and he looks up at him with a grin. "Feel free to let your imagination run wild. I am not offended by it."Hadrian: Hadrian wants so badly to laugh at the reaction he gets from the other man, but he bites his tongue. He doesn't let on too much that it caught him off guard, but the bard catches a moment of surprise on his face that is just priceless. Hadrian: But it doesn't last long. Soon there's a hand on his and he has to fight hard to keep a smile off his face. "Perhaps not, but I can play the role quite well, if you like." He knows how close they are, and knows they can't exactly walk in like this, but he wants to ensure that he isn't left alone once they get there. Hadrian: So he stops, pulling the other man to a stop along with him, and plants a kiss firmly on his lips without so much as a pause. "You gave me quite a fright tonight, you know. I'm afraid I have such delicate sensibilities." He speaks with a teasing tone after he pulls away. "Be a gentleman and don't make me spend the night alone. I'm just so... terribly shaken." Nekhbet: “I’d very much like to be reminded of some of those talents, especially the ones that involve your hands, or mouth I suppose I’m not picky.” He gives a light squeeze on the others hand and licks at his lips idly. There were all kinds of assassins though and what worked for one might not work for another, as long as the job got done though the people dolling out the coin usually didn’t care in most cases. He supposed him suggesting his line of work to Hadrian had been more wishful thinking than anything set in reality; something he’d rather like to see more than anything else. “Perhaps, are you excited by the thought of exciting me?” He turns it back around coyly, trying to plaster a look of innocence on his face; clearly he is anything but; it’s almost believable...almost. Nekhbet: Let his imagination run wild he would indeed, he can’t help but to let it run to the future, now that Hadrian had been made privy to his life, not all of his secrets but close to it. “I’m sure you could, it’s part of why you’re so interesting.” He doesn’t answer if he’d like it or not, although he thinks he might, is pretty sure he’d might. Not saying anything about it was admission alone he realizes but still doesn’t. Then he’s being pulled int a kiss, the vulture can’t help but be all eyes wide for a second before closing them and pushing his lips into it. Hadrian didn’t just have a way with words, he had a way with Nekhbet. Licking at his lips again after the kiss breaks off he lower his head, tilting it as if he can’t believe the other; clearly he’s amused though because it’s written more plainly on his face than he’d admit to. Nekhbet: “I’ll try not to frighten you in the future then, I promise,” The assassin brings a hand up, his fingers crossed as if to show he was out right lying, before he places the hand under Hadrian’s chin, stroking the side of his cheek with his thumb; eyes locking to the bards, his expression contorting to something momentary predatory. “I’ll show your delicate sensibilities a good time and just why I’m as frighting as I am fun though, so don’t worry.” His voice is somewhere between a purr and a low growl as he pulls (a bit roughly) Hadrian into a kiss, it’s more aggressive than the previous one the other man had given him. Nekhbet: He breaks away with a soft bite on Hadrian’s lips, a contrast to his words and tone. “I’ll try my best, I don’t think you want a gentleman though, not really.” His hand finally drops and he starts walking again. “Mhm, but I can still hold that body of your’s still, should you stay shaken.” Nekhbet doesn’t look back as he calls out behind him, eventually he does though; grinning and gesturing for the bard with a motion of his head for him to go ahead of him. “Lead the way— Your Grace.”

#chatsy chat #minstrelhadrian #the vulture and the visionary #tw: blood #tw: gore #tw: death #tw: violence #death came in the form of a man #tw: murder

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