[ this wasn't a situation, a place either of them would have been likely to be found, unless it was sneaking in, blending into the shadows of the room and slipping in through a poorly locked window before plunging a knife through some noble's ribs.
this, however, was entirely different. maybe even disorienting. it's been a long time since daud felt like he was walking on stones that threatened to give way right under him, but this came pretty close.
he didn't have a face of a noble. nobles didn't have scars running along their face, didn't have the posture of someone whose only worry was who had the most lavish parties or highest fashions. so he used his transversals as much as he could, before it would be too hard to hide. it felt foreign, without the comfort of habit - of the red overcoat or the puches that carried his ammunition. the coat instead was dark, vest over his buttoned shirt. he refused to change that out for a crisper one. he could not hide his blade, but by knife wasn't the only way to kill. he had his wristbow; had darts neatly stowed away in his inner pocket. and had the outsider's mark hidden beneath the leather of his glove.
he finds billie quickly though. she stands out to him - because he recognizes one of his - recognizes the same posture he no doubt carried; the same weight of experience worn on shoulders, the knowledge that life wasn't all fancy wine and food served on golden platters. despite the jacket - the clothes of fashion and class - and the starkly feminine look, this was billie.
she blended in well, probably even better than himself (old dog, new tricks. maybe he wasn't as good at that as he thought). he maneuvered passed the guards - bored, inattentive and frowning. some noblewoman tried to strike up a conversation, but ended up talking to daud's back. something about how the floating lamps weren't as bright this night. it didn't matter.
he sidles towards her, all heavy steps and squared shoulder (wolves and sheep). ] Billie.
[ they had a target, a purpose here to remember. something told them, neither of them were too thrilled in finding any delays. ]
scenario 1 !!
this, however, was entirely different. maybe even disorienting. it's been a long time since daud felt like he was walking on stones that threatened to give way right under him, but this came pretty close.
he didn't have a face of a noble. nobles didn't have scars running along their face, didn't have the posture of someone whose only worry was who had the most lavish parties or highest fashions. so he used his transversals as much as he could, before it would be too hard to hide. it felt foreign, without the comfort of habit - of the red overcoat or the puches that carried his ammunition. the coat instead was dark, vest over his buttoned shirt. he refused to change that out for a crisper one. he could not hide his blade, but by knife wasn't the only way to kill. he had his wristbow; had darts neatly stowed away in his inner pocket. and had the outsider's mark hidden beneath the leather of his glove.
he finds billie quickly though. she stands out to him - because he recognizes one of his - recognizes the same posture he no doubt carried; the same weight of experience worn on shoulders, the knowledge that life wasn't all fancy wine and food served on golden platters. despite the jacket - the clothes of fashion and class - and the starkly feminine look, this was billie.
she blended in well, probably even better than himself (old dog, new tricks. maybe he wasn't as good at that as he thought). he maneuvered passed the guards - bored, inattentive and frowning. some noblewoman tried to strike up a conversation, but ended up talking to daud's back. something about how the floating lamps weren't as bright this night. it didn't matter.
he sidles towards her, all heavy steps and squared shoulder (wolves and sheep). ] Billie.
[ they had a target, a purpose here to remember. something told them, neither of them were too thrilled in finding any delays. ]