Black Velvet (Dare x Write)

Jingle, jingle, jingle.

Ferrah giggled as she tossed a pillow high into the rafters and caught it again. The embroidered bells that decorated the pillow tinkled at the motion. The entertaining creation was small, barely big enough to be labeled a pillow. The fabric, worn and faded, held on to its purple hue like a tree clings to the side of a wind swept mountain.

Ferrah loved that pillow.

She paused, staring around the room with wide eyes, the innocence that permeated her temperament only moments ago now hidden. A predator stared out, judging the other patrons as she hugged her pillow possessively against her chest.

Without a word, she approached a dark booth and slid in. Her gaze searched the room ceaselessly, as if waiting for something or someone.

Kiran slumped against the alley wall, his lithe elven body molding to the shadows with practiced ease. His breath came in ragged gasps, the air forced in and out by overworked lungs pushed to the limit, his blood still racing through heated veins. Although the mage would have considered his body in shape under most definitions of the phrase, a full day’s run through the countryside would stress anyone and it had done a number on him.

Closing his eyes, the elf slowed his breathing, reaching deep down inside for that well of power that he always carried, pulling just a touch of it out and wrapping his body in it. It was an old trick, one he had used since the days of his childhood to calm his nerves, and it worked now. When his eyes re-opened, he focused his gaze on the mouth of the alley, a fierce grin forming on his lips.

“All right, Kiran. Time to get to work” he muttered to himself as he stood, shaking the dirt off his cloak, a gift from the grungy place he’d chosen as a hidey hole. Staying slumped over, he moved back into the light and took a quick measure of his surroundings before heading down the street. His destination was just ahead and without any pause, the elf slipped through the doors and into the noisy atmosphere of the tavern, his eyes immediately scanning the room.

The familiar pressure of magic invaded Ferrah's senses. Yet, it wasn't quite familiar at all. This magic had a tinge to it that she didn't recognize. Not that, she admitted, she knew every wizard, warlock, and mystic in the area; but she certainly had memorized the feel of the regulars in this tavern. She'd spent days here, watching the comings and goings of the regulars who threw magic around like strands of colored beads at at Mardi Gras. This magic wielder was not one of them.

She hugged her pillow tight, fighting the urge to shift. The bells tinkled in a soft cadence, drowned out by the murmurs of conversation in various parts of the tavern. So many people. Too many people! If she'd been in true form, Ferrah knew her ears would currently be laid back.

"Bad, bads." She whispered to her pillow, her eyes riveted on the door. It wasn't that she thought the magic had an evil taint to it, so much as it had been coupled with a sensation of...She mulled it over, trying to find the right word. Panic? Exhaustion? Chased? She gave a firm nod, accepting the word in her mental dialogue. Yes, chased fit perfectly. Ferrah knew all about chased.

When the elf entered the room, it took her a moment to notice he wasn't a regular. She'd been so prepared for something huge to come through the door, she'd almost dismissed the smaller form. He didn't look so scary. Maybe, her eyes flicked back to the door, maybe it was whatever was doing the chasing that was scary?

She tucked Squeaks into the corner behind her, curiosity getting the better of her. What was the use of being a big cat if one could not follow the whimsy expected? Trying her best to look inviting, innocent, safe; she stared at the new creature with huge eyes of a deep blue. Her black, wavy hair framed her face and draped down to her thin waist. "Come tell me your problems. I'm safe," her appearance said.

The young elf noted two things once inside the building and he didn’t like either of them. Crowded and noisy, the establishment had a grungy feel to it, one that permeated his pores and seemed to soak into his body slowly, its inky tendrils latching onto his muscles and veins and invading at will. He shivered for a moment, trying to brush off the feeling, and only marginally succeeded. Moving just to the left of the door, he plastered his back against the wall and let his gaze slowly move over the room, taking in every little detail that he saw.

Bodies were everywhere – from human to dwarf to elf and then a few of the more exotic races too. He suspected there were probably a few shape shifters out there also; ones that blended in nicely if you didn’t know what to look for but whose traits stood out like a sore thumb if you did. Such as the burly man in the back who was covered in massive amounts of thick black hair – a werebear for sure – and that diminutive little man in the corner who couldn’t sit still, almost as if his tail was twitching. Werefox would be his bet.

It was unusual to see such a diverse crowd in a tavern like that, and it spoke volumes to the type of place it was, but Kiran could roll with it. He was used to mingling with all types and this was no different. He’d covered most of the place by then, his eyes seeing and cataloging, but he stopped when his gaze fell on one particular booth. A woman sat there, one who stared at him with wide innocent eyes, and he studied her in return. That look, and the way she held herself, it caused his senses to tingle. Werecat perhaps? If so, she was a rare beast indeed as not many of them roamed the land, their innate curiosity having killed many of them off by then. He considered calling up the sight but knew that would give him away to the others, let them know they had a mage in their midst and he didn’t want to do that but still, she called to him somehow. Shaking his head, he decided to take the plunge and strode across the room, his body drawn inward, head lowered, using his skills to seem unobtrusive and someone not worth anyone else’s time. Reaching her booth, he slipped in uninvited and learned forward. “Fancy finding you here, little miss” he murmured, acting as if he’d recognized her. In fact, he hadn’t, but he’d found a long time ago that acting with familiarity sometimes opened up the conversation in his favor occasionally and it was worth a shot now.