Yvette’s breathing became suddenly heavier, she exhales a deep breath. Her jaw trembles noticeably, her eyes darting all around, anxiety awash upon her face. Tilting her head slightly, she retracts her fingers now resting on her thighs. Digging her nails into her shoulders, she tenses. Her breathing soon settles, calming down,

Looking down she opens the drawer under the desk, within is a sheathed steel dagger. Grasping the blade, she unsheathes it. The dagger in her left hand, touches the tip of the horizontal blade, twirling it in her hand. While playing with her weapon, an image crosses her mind. Sevran's face appears just as the blade shimmers with energy. 

Suddenly her gaze darkens, and the awareness of her surroundings diminishes. The blackness remains for only a moment, fading into a new awareness. Another location appears before her, a room similar to hers. Furniture in the same location, along with a sword resting on the right side of the doorway. Her gaze peers downwards as if situated in the air. Witnessing Sevran closing the large wardrobe door and withdrawing a red surcoat.

Throwing the apparel carelessly behind himself, and landing on the bed. Still watching, she notices him untie his grey tunic, starting with the neck. Unwrapping his rope belt, placing the belt into the wardrobe. He crosses his arms and lifts his tunic up and over his head. Her ethereal eyes widen at the sight, taken aback, she exhales a deep breath.

Sevran pulls his tunic off, his body revealing a toned muscular form. His shoulders were broad yet still symmetrical, his biceps bulging yet lean. Throwing his tunic into the wardrobe, he closes it. Yvette tilts her head to the left, her eyebrows moving upwards. She immerses herself in the sight, a slight smirk appearing.

Collecting herself and shaking her head, she attempts to avert her gaze, away from a clearly private moment. Sevran then reaches for his pants, just before Yvette drops the blade onto the table. With a loud metallic clang, her awareness of her surroundings returns. "Damn it, I've got to get a better handle on that." She remarks out loud, blinking her eyes sporadically. Her hands are situated vertically in the air. She calms herself, placing them firmly on the desk and rising from her seat.

Turning around she starts pacing back and forth, from the doorway to the window. Shifting her gaze to the bed, just before she stops just at the centre of the room. Her eyeline lingers for a moment, before shaking her head in frustration. Ignoring the swirling thoughts, she turns around and collapses into the sheets of her feather bed. Staring at the ceiling she cups her hands together, situated on her chest. Closing her eyes, she attempts to sleep. Only a few minutes go by and her eyes open, her attempt ending in utter failure. 

"No, I can't do this." She mutters to herself before rising.

Hearing footsteps out the window, she moves for a closer look. Reaching her destination, she peers down and to the left. Directly in front of her is another brick building with a small alleyway below. To the left, she spots a dirt road and Sevran walking by the alleyway. Frustration emanates from her expression; she turns around and swiftly moves to the wardrobe. Opening it, a darkly hooded surcoat is neatly folded inside. She gazes at the apparel for a moment, before disrobing her nightgown. Pulling it off and placing it inside, she arches forward to reach for the folded clothing, three vertical scars can be seen on her back. 

Withdrawing the surcoat and grey pants, she begins dressing. Pulling up her pants and putting on the surcoat and hood. Once finished she turns to the door, a pair of black shoes just below her vision. Placing them on her feet, she reaches for the handle. Lingering there for a moment, before turning to the left and retrieving her dagger and sheath. Tying it to her right-side waist, she exits the room.

Turning left down towards the staircase, she descends to the foyer and opens the front door. Exiting the estate, she is greeted by a set of short stairs and a small wooden fence. Descending the stairs she turns right, walking in the same direction as Sevran. To the left and right are several houses and buildings, and to the south is a pathway exiting the town. The Theavalon capital can be seen in the far distance.

Yvette looks forward, noticing a long dirt road stretching outwards. A light breeze ruffles her hair, in response she raises her hood as the temperature drops. "Towershore, a town with a tower right in the edge of the sea. I see they put a lot of effort into naming this place." She thinks to herself, with short sarcastic thoughts.

Casting her gaze forward she takes in the appearance of the town's namesake. The tall stone tower in the distance, just north of her position. The tower is one hundred feet high, with a small wooden door at the base and a lookout at the very top. She gazes at the tower for a moment before continuing down the street. The pattering sounds of footsteps can be heard all around her. The nightlife of the town was considerable and vibrant.

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Several town patrons can be seen standing and walking all around the neighbourhood. Many of them grasping tankards of drink. Stumbling around the night street as drunkards do. Her gaze cast on Sevran’s back just before he reaches the end of the street. He turns left and down a dark street, quickly out of her view. Witnessing this she increases her pace, jogging to the right side. Moving swiftly to the corner, she puts her back to the corner, peering around. 

Seeing Sevran move to the end of the street, just near the shoreline. He turns left at the last building and enters it. Yvette swiftly blurs into action, walking down the street and reaching the end. She turns left to see a porch and a dangling wooden sign, attached to a pole. Carved upon the sign are the words the Elworth tavern. Her eyes cast upon the sign for a moment, and a grin on appears her face.

Her thoughts churn into sarcastic and pessimistic tones, pondering the moment. "A tavern huh... I'm offended he didn't ask me to accompany him." She thinks to herself, ascending the staircase and reaching the large wooden door.

Grasping the handle with her right hand, and pulling the door open, she enters the establishment. Greeted by a dark tavern, several lanterns were strategically placed around the room. In the centre are several circular wooden tables, with three to four seats for each of them. Several patrons are seated, consuming alcoholic beverages from the metal tankards. In the far-left corner are five middle-aged men, wearing tunics and leather armour. Each of them had sheathed short swords on their belts. The other tables comprise several other men and women, all conversing. Three women in grey and brown dresses can be seen circling the room with empty tankards.

To the left is a young man with the looks of a fifteen-year-old. Short brown hair, green eyes and wearing a maroon tunic, with a brown rope belt and black leather shoes. He is sweeping the floor with a straw broom. His gaze turns to Yvette as she enters, he gives her a quick smile, before speaking in a soft and sincere tone. "Good evening miss and welcome, please make yourself at home. If there is anything you need, please don't hesitate to ask." The boy spoke cheerfully, retaining his bright smile.

His left-hand gestures to the tables and his right continue to grasp the broom. Yvette gives a slight nod and moves forward to seat herself at the table. The table is situated on the left side of the room, near the wall. The boy sees this and continues sweeping towards the bar, around the centre tables. Yvette's gaze turns to the bar, noticing Sevran standing there and conversing with the bartender. He is a bald middle-aged man, wearing a grey tunic, with grey eyes and dark skin.

Listing to a faint conversation but can't quite make out the words. Her gaze continues to linger for a moment. Remembering something, she cast her eyes to her belt and grasps the sheathed dagger. Her thoughts turn to the image of Sevran, before closing her eyes in concentration. Time goes by, the dagger starts to lightly shimmer from within its sheath.

The blackness is now replaced with a bird's eye view of her target. Her ethereal body is situated on the ceiling, looking down. With her new perspective, she eavesdrops on Sevran and the bartender's conversation.

Sevran lifts a tankard of ale, chugging its contents before firmly placing it back on the bar. Exhaling deeply, the bartender begins to speak. "How is it, my friend?" The bartender asks a smile on his face, expecting a jovial response from his patron.

Sevran hears this, wiping the foam from his lips with his sleeve. He gives a wide smile and soon a pleasant reply. "You know how it is?" He states with a slight chuckle, followed by a wider grin. Shaking his head from side to side, the bartender continues to smile. 

"You know I like to hear it." The bartender remarks, tilting his head. Placing his hands on the bar, to support his body, leaning forward slightly.

Sevran nods slightly before making his statement, his grin devolving into a smirk. He sighs for a time before moving the tankard to the right. "Perfection as always Ethan." Sevran cheerfully states to Ethan, eliciting a positive reaction in the form of a smiling chuckle.

Ethan grabbed the empty tankard and pulls it down to the lower bar. Placing it next to a small wooden barrel, under a nozzle. His gaze returns to Sevran and he speaks once more. "Another one?" Ethan asks, lifting the tankard above the bar and placing it on the barrel's nozzle.

Sevran thinks for a moment and then gives his reply. "Sure, but this one I am paying for, can't keep taking advantage of all your free drinks." He says sincerely, reaching his hand to a small leather purse, tied to his right hip. Opening it and extracting a small copper coin, placing it on the bar.

Ethan peers at the coin for a moment, lifting his gaze to Sevran. He sighs for a moment before giving his reluctant reply. Placing the tankard under the nozzle, filling it with ale. "No Sevran it's on me." He continues to reply in a sincere tone, his eyes squinting and his head tilting to the right.

He continues filling the tankard to the brim, yet Sevran pushes the copper coin forward. "No, no. I insist please, I know that the lord's taxes are quite high these days." Sevran cuts in with a calm, yet frustrated manner. The last part of his sentence gives off a slight tone of contempt towards the subject.

Ethan reluctantly grabs the coin, placing it within a small box of coins, just below the bar. Rising to his full height, he sets the tankard on the bar. Sevran takes the beverage graciously and takes a small sip. "Now I'm assuming your invitation was more than just having a drink with a friend?" Sevran asks inquisitively, his eyes widening and eyebrows ascending with a curious look.

Ethan pauses for a moment, eventually delivering his reply. Yvette still seated with her eyes closed, not too far away, listens attentively. 

"True, this is more than just a friendly drink, a new job has come up... Interested?" Ethan grabs a small rag, wiping the bar down for a moment. He waits for his friend to finish his drink.

Placing the tankard down, Sevran delivers his reply, wiping his mouth again. "When have I ever not been interested. So, who's the target?" Sevran queries, clearly interested.