The cold wind blows down an empty street, the stream of wind lightly flicking up the dirt on the paved road. The moon shines in the night sky, casting a shadow upon buildings, and dotting the side streets. To the north end is a large estate, twenty metres high and thirty metres wide. A small staircase with five steps can be seen leading to the front door. Two windows exist on each side of the door. Rectangular with an arch at the top, the windows are obscured by drapes. A small light is seen through the bottom right window.
Through the window and passed the drapes, Yvette appears wearing a silver nightgown, standing in the centre of the room. A large portrait to the north, six lit candles bolted to the walls, displayed in equal intervals on the west and east walls, illuminating the room. She stands in the centre of the room, wielding a short sword, grasped in her right hand. The tip of the blade is directed at the ground. Standing stationary for a moment, her gaze fixed on the portrait of the nobleman, roughly a few metres in front of her.
Her expression was still and focused as if readying for a fight. Shifting her left hand to the blade, putting forth the blade in front of her. The blade aimed at the portrait wall, and her left foot stepped back, widening her stance. Exhaling a large breath, she lingers for a moment, raising her blade upwards, the blade pointed at the ceiling. Swiftly he pulls it down for a quick and brutal strike. Her eyes squint and then dart to the left, her arms twisting to the right. She slashes thin air from the right to the left. Immediately pulling back her right leg and twirling her blade around, slashing to the right.
She lingers in that stance for a moment, exhaling another breath and dipping her blade slightly forward. She lifts the blade horizontally, feigning an upper block, her blade pointing to the left. Digging her stance into the floor and pulling her left leg. Adjusting her stance, she twirls her blade to the right and performs an upper block, her blade pointed to the right. Inhaling again, pulling her right leg backwards and flipping her blade around to the left. Striking a lower block with her blade directed to the left.
She swiftly adjusts her stance again, pulling her left leg backwards and striking the lower right. Adjusting her stance by twisting her body anticlockwise, until her body is sideways. With her front facing the left and her blade retracted horizontally. Her blade facing forward, directly across her face. Her eyes dart to the shadowy figure emerging from the left. By sheer instinct, she twists her front right leg clockwise and to ninety degrees.
Shifting her blade into her left hand, swiftly pointed her blade at the figure. Her gaze is cold as ice, lingering at that moment, and her shapely figure comes into focus. Her gaze observing the person, she delivers a slight smirk. The shadowy figure is revealed to be Sevran, standing just in the doorway. Leaning against the left side with his arms crossed and a large smile on his face. He is wearing a grey tunic with a red rope belt; he waits a moment before speaking. "Do you ever sleep?" Sevran spoke, cocking his head to the right.
Yvette lowers her blade to her side, raising her hand to her ear. Flicking her hair behind with one swift motion, before replying. "Sleep seems to be a rare commodity for me lately. Might as well use the time for something practical." Returning his gaze, an apathetic stare is all he receives.
Sevran's gaze grows narrow, flashing a concerned look. Pushing himself off the wall, uncrossing his arms and resting them at his sides. Approaching her with soft, deft steps, he spoke softly. "Sleep is essential... Whether farmer or fighter, exhaustion is an enemy to all." Sevran moves a few more steps, leaning in closer. Nearing her, until he is only a metre away.
"I know, yet I still cannot sleep." Yvette replies, her gaze shifting to the right, facing slightly downwards.
Sevran's eyes squint for a moment, gazing at every facet of her demeanour. "Well, is it that you can't sleep, or perhaps you don't want to sleep?" He asks with an inquisitive look, his head slightly tilted to the right.
She swiftly turns to him, her eyebrows arching and her nose crinkling. Her cold temperament shook ever so slightly. "What do you mean by that?" She queries, her tone rising slightly.
Sevran's smirk vanishes, confidence replacing concern. "Orpheus told me, not in any specific detail, but enough. So, it is understandable for your absence of sleep. No doubt a desire to stave off the horrors of the past." He remarked.
Yvette's grip grows suddenly tens, she cocks her neck to the side. Soon after a sharp look bores its way out of her gaze and locks onto the man before her. "He shouldn't have told you that. That is my business." Her tone became sharper and jagged. The hostility towards Sevran quickly diverted to the image of her past saviour.
"Well, your business is clearly hindering your progress, you're exhausted you need sleep." He spoke firmly and with a strict finality.
Yvette turns her back to Sevran, and dips her forehead, inhaling a deep breath before giving her reluctant reply. "I'm handling it!" She snaps back, on the verge of violence and still retaining her reluctant tone. Sevran raises his head up and then down, he exhales deeply before setting his gaze upon her back. Pausing for a moment before speaking. "Handling it, you're ignoring it... trust me I understand that it can be..." He responds adopting her snappish behaviour for a moment. His words are short-lived before she abruptly interrupts him, turning around.
"Understand, tell me how can you understand!" Her eyes remain cold, yet her nostrils flare. Her face turns slightly red.
Sevran is taken aback for a moment and for a split second he froze. This didn’t last long. "Your right, I can't understand completely. I have no idea what you went through nor do you know what I have been through." His head dips forward, followed by a deep frown. His gaze turns to the right, fixing itself upon her. She crosses her arms in a hostile pose, while he continues. "But I do have some experience with torment. So that, that I can understand." His words prompt her expression to soften only slightly.
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"What do you mean?" She asks sincerely, prompting Sevran to raise both his hand's chest level. His left-hand caressed a faint burn mark on his right hand, just above the wrist.
"Well, let's just say that my father wasn't a very kind man.” Sevran remarks, caressing the burn mark. Yvette's gaze turns to the scar it left behind, her eyes fixed on it for a moment. "But listen, don't let the torment of your past keep you up at night. Don't let it hold dominion over you, not for a single moment. Leave the past where it should be." He steps forward, closing the distance in a flash.
Yvette situates herself in front of him and loosens her grip on her sword yet still wielding it. A slight smirk appears, she dips her forehead, then back up to meet his gaze. "That's easier said than done, so I assume that is the father in question?" She queried, glancing at the large portrait hanging on the northern wall.
Sevran turns to the portrait for a brief moment, chuckling at the sight. "Ah no, that is not my father. That is the late Lord Edward Helmen the third, he owns this property. My father was no noble and so there is no noble blood running through these veins. Unlike yours of course." He explains, humour creeping into his voice.
Yvette's eyes widen, and her bottom jaw drops, taken aback at his final comment. She feels a slight shiver run through her body, soon she collects herself. "How did you know?" She asks.
Sevran delivers another smile before his reply. "I didn't for sure, until now." He states with a mischievous grin.
Yvette rolls her eyes in annoyance before speaking. "Damn it, we're not speaking of this anymore!" Delivering her hostile ultimatum, she grasps her sword tightly.
Sevran still smiling, replies in a nonchalant tone. "As you wish my lady." He makes a short bow, smiling all the while.
Yvette exhales a short breath, flashing an angry look. He only smiles in response, almost egging her on. Yet his cold gaze, an obvious contrast compels otherwise. Deciding not to test him, she shifts her gaze back to the portrait. Raising her index finger at the man depicted in the painting. "If that's not your father, then who may I ask is this, Lord Helmen?" She asks a simple, yet poignant question.
Glancing at the portrait for a few moments, he returns to her with an explanation. "He is a useful little noble that our organisation has under our employee. In exchange for gold and certain assurances that he won't be killed, he offers us the property. Along with information and access for to conduct our business, within the kingdom." Explaining his association with the noble, Yvette listens intently to every word he utters.
Soon after they are interrupted by footsteps, pattering to the left, near the doorway entrance. "Sir there is a message for you, hand-delivered." They both turn to the left, noticing a blonde-haired man dressed in a fine black suit and popped collar. In his right hand is a rolled-up parchment.
"Jeremiah, a message you say?" Sevran responds, casting a curious look at the butler.
Moments later he reaches him, handing it over. Unrolling the parchment, he reads it carefully. Yvette looks on with curiosity, eager to learn its contents. Sevran then proceeds to reroll the parchment, handing it back to Jeremiah.
"Thank you. It seems I have an urgent meeting to attend, I will be leaving at once." He declares, nodding to Jeremiah.
"Will you be needing a carriage sir?" The butler asks.
Sevran thinks for a moment before speaking. "Hmm no thank you, it is not too far so I think an evening stroll might be nice." He replies, turning down the offer.
The butler bows his head respectfully, before speaking with his head, still tilted downwards. "As you wish sir." Rising to meet his employer, he turns around and walks away.
Sevran turns his gaze to Yvette, waiting patiently for an explanation. "What was that about?" Yvette asks inquisitively asks, gesturing with her chin at the doorway.
He looks back to the door, pondering what to say next." Just a meeting invitation, nothing to worry about. I'll be out for a few hours; you should get some sleep. Come here let me take you to your room, give me the sword." Sevran explains the situation, placing his left hand carefully on her right shoulder. Reaching for the sword with his left. Yvette resists for a moment before ultimately handing over the sword. With her weapon relinquished, they both move towards the left.
"Hmm, fine." She begrudgingly states as they pass through the doorway.
Yvette first and Sevran now grasping the sword in his left, places it up against the doorway. They exit the room and are both greeted by a small foyer. To the left is a wooden double door, and to the right is a grand white staircase. Wide at the bottom, it curves inwards towards the top.
Straight ahead is another doorway leading to a dining hall. They both turn right and proceed up the staircase side by side. Looking at each other intermittently, they ascend to the top of the stairs. Both turns left and are greeted by a rectangular-shaped floor, three rooms on the left and three on the right. Each of them is concealed behind white doors. A pathway stretches to the front of the house, then to the left and then back around to the staircase. The centre floor is missing, allowing them to see the first floor and surrounding it is a finely carved wooden rail.
Quickly Sevran moves to the room on end, to the right. As they approach, he situates himself on the left and she stands on the right. Reaching across he grasps the handle and pushes the door inwards. Inside is a small one-bedroom, with a queen-sized bed to the right, and a large dresser to the left. Besides the bed on the right, is a small desk. A mirror is draped on the headboard. To the north of the room is a closed window.
Sevran gestures her to entire with an all-flamboyant flourish. Yvette quickly enters and standing just in the centre, she turns around to face Sevran. He walks to the centre of the door. Facing inwards, he spoke with a sincere tone, his head tilted to the left. "You really should get some sleep. I'll be back soon and hopefully I will see you bright and early tomorrow morning." He spoke sarcastically, his body facing the path to the staircase, his head turned to the left.
Yvette responds to this with her own sarcastic eye roll, leading to an equally sarcastic reply. "Sure." She replies, lingering on the word far longer than necessary.
Sevran responds to this with a slight smirk just before he pulls the door shut. Footsteps are heard outside, pattering on the floor. They grow ever more silent until they disappear entirely. Yvette turns to her bed; her eyes linger there for a moment. Soon after she swiftly turns her head to the left and clicks her tongue in frustration. She then turns around and moves towards the desk in the corner.
Pulling out of the chair she seats herself, her gaze fixed on the mirror on the headboard. Leaning forward she gazes at her own reflection. Her brown flowing hair was tied back in a ponytail. She lingers, before pulling her hand back and unwrapping her hair. Drawing a small strand away, her hair falls to her shoulders. She places the strand on the desk and once again gazes at her reflection.
Staring intently at the woman looking back, she sighs in exhaustion. “What the hell are you doing here?” She queries her doppelganger looking back at her. As expected, no reply was forthcoming and so the room descended into silence.