Having the tabaxi bodyguard at the door reassured Cyran that they were protected from trouble, though he didn’t miss how the girl grew nervous after he locked the door. Of course she’s nervous, he thought sardonically. To her, this isn’t a bedroom. This is a tomb.

“I would hate to impose.” Cyran replied politely. He couldn’t help but wonder what kind of estate Zarius lived in. “But I appreciate the offer.” And if he found himself here again, he might just take the tiefling up on it. There was no shortage of work for him in Darkveil city, and it would be nice to have a more stable place while he was here.

Just as Cyran was about to ask about Zarius’s home, however, a voice caught him by surprise- she was quiet, but he heard her question cut through the silence as if she’d screamed it.

“...What… exactly do you two wish to… do with me…?”

Cyran sighed, suddenly tired. He was aware that using a soft and patient approach was a fool’s errand in Darkveil, where anyone would expect him to have an ulterior motive. Perhaps the sentiment was naive, but in Cyran’s mind, someone had to hold onto those beliefs. He couldn’t help everyone he came across, but he could start with the people right in front of him.

The elf crossed the room in confident strides, boots barely making a sound on the creaky wood, until he reached the desk on the far end of the wall, where a chair had been pushed aside. He pulled it out, gesturing for the wary girl to take a seat before her legs gave out from under her from the stress.

“I’m not asking anything of you.” He said in a firm tone of voice that left no room for argument, making sure that Zarius heard. How did one best approach a belligerent thief teenager that believed they were being held captive? Cyran liked to consider himself patient, but he could admit that he’d never had to deal with a situation this delicate. “You’re free to leave any time you want, but I’d like it if you stayed.”

A knock on the door caught his attention, and Cyran opened it to find Snow holding a plate of warm food that had been left behind from the innkeeper. Cyran nodded, giving the tabaxi a grateful smile. “Thank you.”

He brought the plate back in- just to be sure, he stuck his finger in the bowl of soup, tasting it experimentally. When nothing happened, he deemed it safe, setting it on the table. “Here, for you.” Apologetically, to Zarius, he said, “I didn’t think to order anything for us yet- I thought she could use something to eat first.”

He leaned against a wall, crossing his arms. “So what brings you to this part of the city? Is your home in this part of the area?” He knew little of Zarius's family, but since Zarius had offered him hospitality, Cyran couldn't help but be curious. 

He listens to Cyran talk to the young girl and reassure her they didn’t want anything from her. It was a nice sentiment but it was hardly true. She did still have Cyran’s coin pouch after all. Even if Cyran didn’t want it back, the girl at least owed him an apology and an explanation of her actions.

“You are lucky Cyran is so forgiving. Had you stolen from someone nefarious you may actually have something to be concerned about.” He comments. He knew Cyran was a trained killer and really, any person could be capable of extreme cruelty, but the elf seemed to have a soft spot for those clearly in need.

As Cyran takes the food and tests it, Snow exchanges a bit of a look with Zarius before closing the door. Snow was perceptive and likely listening through the door in case anything went awry. Though present company made the concern unnecessary and Zarius was more than capable of holding his own. Still the tabaxi’s caution is appreciated. After closing the door, the tiefling leans against the door with his arms folded across his chest.

“Do not worry about it, I am not hungry.”

Even if he was, he wouldn’t touch the food here out of caution of being poisoned himself. He was very mindful of where his food came from and whose hands it passed through. Poisoning was a very real risk every day of his life.

When the question of his home comes up, a smile spreads across his face.

“Well, I am actually in the process of moving off my family’s estate and into my own space. It has been a long time coming but the pieces are finally falling into place. The new spot is just on the opposite side of the market from here. I would be happy to show it to you once it is more put together.”

He was actually pretty excited about the new space. He and his sister would often sneak into the old clock tower much to the frustration of their attendants and personal guard. It was a wonderful space with all manner of nooks and crannies to hide in. The place had been neglected for so long and he had always hoped to acquire the building one day and lamented the chance that someone else would buy it first.

It needed a lot of work though. New roof, new floors, new siding, new masonry, pretty much everything needed to be fixed or changed. Luckily for him, his family was very supportive of the venture. He already had some staff lined up and was working on getting a supply chain going for food and drink for the tavern that would serve as the front for the building’s actual purpose.

“What about you? Are you currently running a contract for someone?” He asks Cyran.

She doesn’t move at first, even as Cyran confidently pulls out a chair for her and tells her they expect nothing of her. This was… strange. He said everything so confidently, like it was true, but Iryla couldn’t quite bring herself to believe him even still. As nice as his words and the sentiment were, she knew better than to blindly trust the things said to her. It would only be a matter of time before the rug was pulled out from under her.

But…

Her feet hurt. Her legs were shaking. And the addition of the smell of food to the mix…

It is with halting, hesitant steps that Iryla approaches the chair, looking between Cyran and Zarius with large eyes. Cyran testing the food himself does much to assuage her fear of it, and the rumbling in her stomach pushes her to clumsily take a seat and finally, finally, take a spoonful of soup to her lips.

If she were a little less in control of herself, the first taste might have been enough to make Iryla cry. Food, after not eating for a day or two, always tasted better after all. Hot, good food was even more of a luxury. She eats quickly after that, while listening to both Cyran and Zarius talk to her and each other.

Maybe Cyran wasn’t the nefarious sort if Zarius was to be believed, but she doubted Zarius was the same, especially not if he was a local with money. Though Iryla didn’t think he’d say anything too important in front of her, it didn’t hurt to listen to what he was willing to share with his friend even with a stranger present. Listening to everything around you was important when you had to survive on your own, after all.

A contract..? Cyran must have been some kind of mercenary, that type tended to drift in and out of the city for work all the time. Though she wasn’t quite sure why he would be here currently.

Belatedly, she realizes that trying to pickpocket a mercenary was... Probably not her smartest idea ever and a pang of embarrassment hits her. She’ll just blame that on the hunger.

When her soup is finished, she keeps her eyes on the empty bowl while she speaks quietly.

“Thank… you… For the food.”

Cyran suppressed a smile behind his hand as he listened to Zarius scold the girl. The tiefling may have seemed harsh, but he had still offered her clothing and shelter, and in Cyran’s eyes, it meant he had a soft spot under the tough exterior. His suspicions were confirmed when Zarius lit up with pride when talking about his new lodgings. Cyran nodded along as he spoke, happy to see the tiefling so animated.

“I would love to see it.” He said in response to the offer. “Moving into your own space is a commendable accomplishment. I remember when I moved out of my parents' home.” That part was spoken softly, almost to himself. "Though that was a long time ago. Centuries, even." He added with a laugh.

He nervously eyed the girl when Zarius mentioned a contract. He didn’t want to reveal anything about himself that would scare her, but it would be foolish of him to pretend that she wouldn’t understand the implication of Zarius’s words. The damage had already been done.

Shoulders slumping, Cyran gave Zarius a resigned nod. “I’ve been asked here to help settle a… border dispute.” He said, choosing his words carefully even here. Even in the privacy of his own room, it would be foolish to voice the words out loud. It was the truth, though, if not an oversimplification of it. An ashen father had stepped on the toes of someone more powerful than him, and Cyran had been called in to discreetly take care of the problem.

Within days, the crime lord would be nothing more than a distant memory, and Cyran would be moving onto the next job.

“I think I’ll be here for a while though. There’s a lot of business for me.” The thought of settling down in one place was foreign, but there was a lot more opportunity for someone of Cyran’s talents in a place like this… so long as he didn’t let himself get robbed by every common pickpocket on the streets. “If you have any advice to offer, I would be greatly appreciative. If I’m going to be successful, I’d rather not accidentally step on anyone’s toes.” He wouldn’t mind working for Zarius either, if the tiefling’s family had any need for his services.

The girl’s voice was low enough that Cyran almost missed her thanks at first, though she sounded surer than she had earlier. Cyran smiled at her, waving a dismissive hand. “You’re very welcome.” He was honestly relieved that she had managed to eat everything- whether it was because of the food or because she was relieved nothing had happened to her thus far, her shaking had lessened, and some of the tension had eased from her shoulders.

The bath would be here soon, and with any luck, so would Zarius’s bodyguard with a fresh change of clothes for the girl. Pleased with the progress that he’d made so far, Cyran tried to coax more conversation out of her. Perhaps it was the fact that Marlow would only have been a few years younger than her, but he couldn't help but be reminded of his own daughter.

There was a chance his inquiry would drive the girl back into her shell, but Cyran still felt the need to ask. “What’s your name?”

Zarius’ eyes narrow a bit at Cyran’s claim of being here to settle a border dispute. Any sort of turf war in Darkveil usually involved one or more of the Ashen Fathers or at least their grunts. If Cyran was getting involved in that, he would have to keep a very close eye on the bounty hunter’s movements throughout the city. Messing with the local 'politics' was a good way to get shanked in an alleyway. 

Cyran likely wouldn’t disclose who his client was, at least not here. It was possible that the hunter’s actions would benefit his own family, but it was equally possible that they wouldn’t. Perhaps Caedes asked Cyran for help with the Crimson Hand situation since they had some history. He would have to confirm that once they were done here.

He nods at the comment about there being a lot of work for someone with his particular set of skills. The tiefling himself had use for a hunter on a near daily basis. Knowing the movements of his family's enemies was key in keeping from being poisoned or stabbed in the middle of the night, and a hunter like Cyran could greatly aid in that. That was sort of the whole reason he prioritized recruiting Snow who was excellent at tracking. 

"Well, I would advice you get familiar with the key players in the criminal underground quickly. And pick your clients carefully. Darkveil is very volatile." He comments. 

Though Darkveil was considered at large to be one of the most god forsaken places in Charon to call home, he still had a soft spot for it. There was freedom and joy to be found in the music and arts just as much as there was terror and despair to be found in the darkened corners. 

The tiefling glances back at the half-elf. He wondered what Cyran's plan was after she was cleaned up and fed. The girl likely didn't have any family or place to return to other than the ash covered streets of the city. He wouldn't put it past the hunter to just let her have his room for as long as he is in Darkveil. 

He listens to the moon elf's attempts at conversation with the young girl. Perhaps Cyran's more gentle approach would get some answers from her now that she has had some food to warm her up to them. 

"Well, I would advice you get familiar with the key players in the criminal underground quickly. And pick your clients carefully. Darkveil is very volatile."

It was good advice for anyone seeking to make a living, or just live in general, in Darkveil. With sharp eyes, Iryla looks at Zarius, studying him for a moment. He was definitely harder to read than Cyran was. Though she still wasn’t completely sold on Cyran’s intentions being good, she was… perhaps 50% of the way to believing him.

The same could not be said for her opinions of the tiefling. There was just something about Zarius, something that told her not to trust him as far as she could throw him. Which would not be far. Maybe like, half an inch at most.

But, in spite of her mistrust, aside from some light threats, so far he had done nothing to her directly. It would be an easy enough task for someone connected to one of the families in Darkveil to make an unwanted orphan just disappear. No one would ever ask after her, and Zarius likely recognized that. So the fact that all he had done so far was tag along while Cyran gave her food…

“You should listen to him.” Iryla murmurs to Cyran. “Even if you don’t know all the families by name, it’s good to learn how to recognize who is important and who isn’t…” She trailed off with a small shrug, not bothering to add further comment on that line of thinking.


She looked down at her empty bowl, away from Zarius and Cyran.

“What’s your name?”

It had been a long, long time since the last time anyone asked for that. Most people didn’t care to learn the names of the beggars and thieves on the street. And her name was one of the few things that truly belonged to her. Something she kept close to her chest, like a precious treasure.


“...Iryla… My name is… Iryla.”

Cyran nodded in response to Zarius’s warning. While it was true he didn’t often like to get involved with the people he worked with- it was none of his business- it was only in the interest of his own safety to make sure he didn’t accidentally cross anyone too powerful. Zarius’s reservations, surprisingly, were only confirmed by the girl, who had already finished her food. She was still watching them both with wary eyes, but at least she was talking more, contributing to the conversation.

She didn’t finish her sentence, but she didn’t need to, the implication hanging in the air. He wondered if she had been forced to learn about the city’s leaders, for her own safety. Here, it was probably a necessity.

“I will keep that in mind.” Cyran promised, a frown tugging at his lips. Darkveil politics were different than the kind he was used to- the ash seemed to have hardened the city, forged their leaders into cutthroat criminals. Cyran was much used to a different kind of game back at home, one with social backstabbings and financial ruin. It made Eclipse City seem rather tame by comparison, but there was a certain kind of honesty that came with it.

He would simply have to learn to adapt.

“Perhaps you could help me out with that during my stay, Iryla.” Cyran replied with a kindly smile, happy to have finally learned her name. It was a lovely name- by moon elf naming conventions, meaning the sharp harmony of the mists. “You’re welcome to stay here as long as I am in Darkveil, of course. You don’t have to, but I’m happy to have you as a guest while I’m here.”

He spoke in a manner that would be obvious to anyone that he had experience dealing with children- his tone suggested that he would understand if she said no, but he hoped she would say yes.

He turned his attention back to the tiefling. “I would love to speak with you more while I’m in the city as well, Zarius.” Perhaps Zarius would be willing to tell him more about which families were to be trusted, and which ones to avoid. While his opinion might not be entirely objective, it would still give Cyran a good place to start.

Another knock on the door pulled him from his thoughts. Cyran’s ears perked up at the sound, and he made his way to the door. Hopefully, it was the innkeeper, come to tell him that the bath had been drawn, or Zarius’s other bodyguard- Eirynor- back with a change of clothes.

Zarius nods. While it would be great to have the conversation about business sooner than later, right now they were not in a secure location with appropriate company for such complicated matters.

The tiefling steps out of the way as Cyran heads for the door and opens it. Snow peers in from around the door frame, a fresh towel in hand.

“The innkeeper says the bath is ready.”

“Thank you, Snow.” Zarius replies. “Please go with Cyran and Miss Iryla. I will wait here for Eirynor to catch up.”

The tabaxi gives him a curious head tilt but nods. They step aside and wait to lead Iryla and Cyran to the baths. They offer the towel to Iryla should she choose to carry it herself.

Zarius figured that Iryla would likely be more comfortable without him looming nearby. The girl seemed to have some sort of idea as to who he is or at least that he had some rank within Darkveil. She clearly thought they were going to do something horrible to her, which wasn’t true. It was understandable why she would think that given the prominence of shady folk all throughout the city and especially within the upper echelons of the crime families who called the shots.

Cyran seemed to be better with young folk than he was. It curious actually. Cyran had almost a fatherly like demeanor about him which Zarius hadn't really noticed before. Perhaps he had kids himself? In that case he probably misses them a lot seeing as Cyran was pretty empathetic from what he as observed so far. 

While Zarius grew up with younger siblings, the expectations of their behavior was very different from most families. It probably would be best to not put those same expectations on the young street urchin. She was already anxious enough as things were. 

“Perhaps you could help me out with that during my stay, Iryla.” A subtle light enters Iryla’s eyes and she perks up in her seat at his words. “You’re welcome to stay here as long as I am in Darkveil, of course. You don’t have to, but I’m happy to have you as a guest while I’m here.”

Ahah. That made more sense to her now. He was new in town, and even if he had Zarius as an ally, it was likely that Zarius would not always be able to help him, depending on what sort of work Cyran would be undertaking here. Finding some other guide, someone who knew the city and was a local, would no doubt be quite the boon to Cyran during his time here.

A street urchin, someone who would know the city but not be missed, that was a good choice.

She looks at him and nods very seriously. “...That would be.. An acceptable deal.” She agrees easily. “I know of many of the families in this city, though obviously not… personally. And if you need someone to navigate, I could be of use. In return a place to stay… I’d say that’s more than fair.”

Of course, she still wasn’t sold on trusting either of them entirely. But knowing what Cyran sought to gain from her put her more at ease, it made this situation make more sense in her eyes.

It is only after figuring out this puzzle before her that she seems to take note of something else that had been mentioned in the room. Her eyes finally land on the fluffy clean towel being offered to her and they go almost comically wide.

“...Wait, what as that about a bath…?”

Cyran inwardly smiled at the half-elf’s reluctant agreement to his terms, grateful to have found a more effective approach. She was obviously mistrustful of a hand extended that expected nothing in return, but a deal was something she understood. The offer hadn’t been a ruse to get her to stay- he could use a guide, and no one knew the ins and outs of a city quite like a thief that was forced to acquire such knowledge for her own survival. But he was glad that she had accepted.

With considerably more enthusiasm than he’d had before, Cyran stood and made his way to the hall, barely glancing back to make sure Iryla was following him down the hall- if he noticed her disdain at the idea of getting clean, he did not show it. She may have looked appalled at the thought of getting clean, but Cyran would bank on the hope that she would rather follow him than be alone in the room with Zarius for the time being.

“I did promise you one, after all.” He said, a somewhat teasing smile on his lips. “Don’t worry, I won’t attempt to take your things while your guard is down. You can keep everything with you.” He was referring to the coin pouch she still had on her person, but he had no doubt that someone like her had a concealed weapon on her person- it was what he did, after all. He couldn’t imagine whatever weapon she would manage to get her hands on in the slums was up to standard, though. Cyran’s mind was already reeling as they walked, thinking about everything Iryla might need. Yes, a solid dagger that wouldn’t give her diseases from the rust should she accidentally cut herself with it, maybe even a leather sheath…

… Assuming she would even accept, of course. And that he eventually got enough money to afford such things.

”We will be right back.” He informed Zarius with a smile.

With Snow and Iryla in tow, they made their way through the halls to the washroom. Out of the corner of his eye, in the tavern hall, Cyran spotted a familiar face- one of the thugs from earlier was at the bar, speaking in hushed tones with the barkeep. What was he doing back here? Had he somehow recognized Zarius as an important figure, or was this simply a matter of revenge for wounded pride? It was a small miracle the thug hadn’t spotted them yet. Cyran ushered the two quickly down the hall, making sure to angle himself so he blocked Iryla from view. He made a subtle gesture to the tabaxi, pointing out the thug so Snow was aware of him, before quickly guiding Iryla to the washroom.

He opened the door first, scanning for anyone that might be lying in wait. When he saw nothing in the room besides a wooden tub full of steaming water, he nodded, satisfied that it would be safe enough. He turned, widening the door to let Iryla in.

Zarius smirks, amused with Cyran’s enthusiasm. The elven man was very different from most bounty hunters. He had more of a soul despite the demands of the position. It was strange. Not unheard of though. Plenty of good people did terrible things and plenty of bad people did good things. And even more were in desperate sorts.

Perhaps that was why he took such an interest in the half-elf. She was clearly in need of some sort of stability. A little coin could go a long way though not all had an easy time getting their hands on it legitimately. Which begs the question of what exactly Cyran’s situation was.

How exactly did the elf come to find himself in such desperate need for coin as to take up a dangerous morally bankrupt position? Or maybe he was more picky with his targets and is using this as a means to be a vigilante. There could be any number of reasons. Though it was a dark path to walk.

“Alright. Do not get lost.” He teases.

The tiefling and Snow exchange a bit of a look before the tabaxi follows after Iryla and Cyran. Snow could be trusted to keep an eye on things for the time being while he steps over to the window and glances out at the ash covered streets. His eyes narrow as a group of familiar looking thugs loiter outside in the back alley.

Meanwhile, Snow glances down at Cyran’s gesture then looks across the tavern hall at the thug who was speaking with the barkeep. The tabaxi nods then hangs back to block the hallway to the bath just to be on the safe side. They keep one hand on their quiver and the other on their longbow. Focusing on the thug and barkeep, they can't quite make out what they are discussing, however they do catch a suspicious glance from the barkeep. 

The thug takes notice as well and turns his nose up at the archer before stepping away from the bar and walking across the room towards the hallway. 

"Move along." The tabaxi growls. 

"Where's your owner at, pet?" The thug spits the insult in the leopard's face. 

A few of the tavern's patrons notice the confrontation and watch as the human man, who stood a half foot shorter than the fluffy catfolk, squares up like he's trying to intimidate them. Some patrons shake their heads, knowing that it wouldn't result in anything good, while a few eager young folk start taking bets or get ready to spring into action if a brawl was about to start. 

"Move. Along."

The thug tries to look down the hallway and Snow just moves to block his line of sight. A look of irritation and indignancy crosses the thug's face. He glowers up at the tabaxi who glowers back. A silent moment of tension passes between the two before the human is the first to break eye contact and step back.  

"Hmph. Better watch your back, cat. Those nine lives run out fast."

"You speak with a lot of venom for someone with only one."

The thug scowls and rests a hand on his weapon, heavily considering getting at least one good hit in on the archer before he can notch an arrow. Snow is not deterred. 

"Leave. Now." Snow's lip curls up in a snarl, bearing one fang in warning.

The man scoffs and backs off in earnest this time. He retreats from the confrontation to the front of the tavern and exits the building. Looks of relief and disappointment on the patrons pass after a moment. Snow breathes out and relaxes their stance as they continue to stand guard for Cyran and Iryla. 

“Don’t worry, I won’t attempt to take your things while your guard is down. You can keep everything with you.”

With those words, a little bit of tension seeps from Iryla’s shoulders. If he kept his words, then maybe Cyran was someone she could trust. Though even if he didn’t, it wasn’t like Iryla had anything on her worth stealing besides his money pouch and her- Her… Heirloom. The one thing she’d never take off to begin with.

But was he really going to make her take a bath…? What was even the point of that? She was fairly certain she’d stand out like a sore thumb if she took one now. The only washed urchin among a sea of them on the streets. And her clothes were filthy anyway, so it all seemed like a waste of hot water, truth be told.

She doesn’t have much time to linger on these thoughts when a semi-familiar face, and more obviously, the movements of her companions catches her eye. Looking over her shoulder she just manages to spot one of the thugs from earlier over at the bar. An unsurprising turn of events really, but concerning nonetheless. Her best guess said that his pride was likely wounded, and he was looking to soothe the ache with a fight. That was exactly the sort of short term thinking she’d come to expect from that sort on the streets. She just hoped she and Cyran and that fluffy cat person wouldn’t get caught up in a fight inside the tavern. That was a surefire way to get all of them kicked out…

Before she can say or do anything, though, she is ushered into the inn’s washroom with Snow outside the door to keep watch for them. And it is with a start that she realizes she has absolutely no idea what to do in here.

“I- Er-” Turning in the doorway, Iryla looks back for Cyran in the hallway. “You know I don’t need to do this in order to be your guide, right…? In fact- If I walk around looking like a clean beggar, I’ll probably just draw attention to the both of us, and that would kind of defeat the point, wouldn’t it?”

Gods, she hadn’t been made to take a bath by anyone since she was evicted from the orphanage after she got too big to feed any longer.

“If I smell bad, I can go find a river or something later.” Sure, they tended to be full of ash and turn your clothes back, but smelling of smoke and soot would likely be better than the alternative.

“Or!” She tacks on, quickly switching tactics. “Maybe we should make sure that the kitty- Er- Zarius’... servant? Is okay dealing with that punk from earlier. If he’s hanging around, he’s probably got friends nearby.” Iryla was clearly rambling at this point, inching away from the tub in the corner full of steaming water and soaps.

Iryla’s reticence to get clean was… not what Cyran had expected. Didn’t she want to wash the grime off of herself? Another, darker thought occurred to him that perhaps she had never used a full bathtub in the first place. Cyran had fallen to poverty, learned to adapt, but he had not been brought up in it. He could never truly understand what Iryla had been through, and while he could sympathize, it probably sounded like little more than empty platitudes.

What would be the best way to approach this? He had a feeling she wouldn’t appreciate if he asked her whether she required assistance or not- it would only make her clam up.

“Think about it this way…” Cyran perked up as inspiration struck. “Zarius’s other bodyguard is coming here with clothes from his estate… I very much doubt he will be bringing,” A potato sack, he politely refrained from saying, “The kind of clothes you normally wear. If that’s the case, it will be better for you to be clean, yes?”

She still didn’t seem convinced- Cyran winced as she brought up the thug still meandering around. It was too much to hope she hadn’t seen him, he supposed. He dropped that line of conversation in favor of focusing on the monumental task at hand- getting the urchin clean.

“It’ll be like a game of espionage.” He tried. “While you’re my guide, it would make much more sense if we looked and dressed alike. We would turn less heads that way, and it will give you a chance to hone a new type of stealth.”

Subterfuge was not Cyran’s first choice when it came to stealth- he was not good at it, and it was often unnecessary for someone who could make you forget all about them with the brush of a hand. But Iryla, who was clearly hardened by a life on the streets, forced to hone such skills for her own survival, would benefit from having all the skills she could at her disposal.

“And don’t worry about the thugs. If you would prefer to be left alone, I can go help Snow deal with the situation, but I suspect he already has it handled.” The tabaxi was clearly competent at deescalating situations. Whether the thugs were truly gone for long or not was left to be seen- they were clearly out for revenge, but how far would they go to obtain it?

He pushed those thoughts aside for now. If Iryla wanted him to leave, he would go help Snow take care of the thugs if they were still loitering around, and be done with it. The situation was beginning to annoy him- while they likely did not pose much of a threat, they were provoking them in a public space, and intruding on an otherwise pleasant night.

Cyran did not take kindly to those that messed with his people. Perhaps he could not consider Zarius and Iryla as such, but he was protective of others by nature, even if those people didn’t necessarily need it.

For those thugs’ own sakes, he hoped they did not attempt to intrude upon the evening any further.

As Iryla and Cyran argue over the bath, the door to the inn swings open seemingly by itself. Snow's eyes lock on the movement and perks their ears to listen. No one else seems to take any notice of the door's strange movement as it swings back closed without issue. Snow's eyes dart to the floor as a slight trail of ash footprints cross the floor towards the tabaxi. Snow scents the air for a moment then relaxes in their stance. 

An invisible hand taps Snow on the shoulder and the tabaxi steps aside to let the unseen individual past. Appear at Cyran's side is Eirynor, the tall half-elf with a longsword sheathed at his hip. He waves a bit before pulling a bundle of clothes out from a satchel at his side and offering it to the elf. 

The clothes themselves were of extremely high quality material only found in Zeinav, not something easily acquired by common folk, but their design took into account functionality and comfort in the region. The clothing has a mix of dark midnight blues and various cool greys with delicate embroidery accenting the hems. There are a few garments intended to be layered along with a durable cloak. Generally speaking, the outfit looks like it would fit well enough for the time being. 

Eirynor looks at Cyran and starts to sign something only to remember that Cyran likely would not understand. His face flushes a bit and his ears turn pink in embarrassment before he starts trying to do some charades to communicate that he'd stand guard with Snow. He turns on his heels and goes to stand with the tabaxi, further blocking off the hallway. 

Snow looks at the half-elf with a curious head tilt. Eirynor signs something to the catfolk whose tail twitches in response. 

Meanwhile, Zarius opened the window to Cyran's inn room and silently stepped out onto the side of the building.^[1,2] He closes the window and a shimmer of passes over his body, obscuring him from sight.^[3] Skulking across the wall, he gets over to where the thugs were grouped up and conversing in the alleyway in order to overhear their conversation. 

The thug from inside trudges over. "Bastard is still inside, cat is guarding the moon elf and the kid."

"Wouldn't be a good idea to start a fight inside," replies a bulkier looking dwarven man. "Too many other folk might jump into the fray."

"Might work in our favor," a dull green lizardfolk interjects with a hushed hiss. "Plenty of folk chomping at the bit to take down an Ashen Father heir."

"Plenty of folk looking to be owed a favor too."

"So, what? We just wait until they come out and jump 'em in the streets? Rha'Oriyn is known for being slippery." 

"Could grab the kid. Probably is important to the elf. Might be willing to trade her safety for the tiefling."

"Nah, you can't make deals with allies of those ash-skins. We'd need to rally up some others if we were going to try an pull something like that off in broad daylight."

Zarius just listens to them bicker back and forth. It was tiring and pretty pathetic. If they were going to waste his time like this they could at least have a more interesting plan to discuss. He almost wishes he had gone with Cyran and Iryla. A bath would be ten times more entertaining than listening to these idiots. 

---

[1] Spider Silk Boots
[2] Silent Step
[3] Invisibility

“Zarius’s other bodyguard is coming here with clothes from his estate… I very much doubt he will be bringing the kind of clothes you normally wear.”

Had she missed something? They were bringing clothes for her now too? Biting her lip, Iryla curses a bit internally. Debt. Unless she argued it would be a cost of her help, that would be a debt she highly doubted she could pay back.

Looking down and fiddling with the rough hems of her clothes, Iryla can’t help but feel a bit embarrassed. A tunic-like top fashioned out of the rough canvas of a discarded sack. Pants that were a few sizes too large for her and sloppily pieced back together after countless scrapes and tears. Everything held up by rope and shaky stitches. It wasn’t as if she was trying to make a fashion statement with the clothes she had on at the moment. They were just.. All she had. At one point in time, she had clothes a little more suited to her, even though they were just worn hand-me-downs from other orphans who had come and gone already. But those had long stopped fitting her frame as she grew. And these were all she was able to find for herself.

“It’ll be like a game of espionage.”

Pulled out of her, admittedly slightly self pitying, thoughts, Iryla looks up again at Cyran.

“While you’re my guide, it would make much more sense if we looked and dressed alike. We would turn less heads that way, and it will give you a chance to hone a new type of stealth.”

That… Did make sense, even if she knew it was just an excuse to get her to accept the situation. Maybe it wouldn’t be a bad thing if she learned to fit in with people like Cyran or Zarius, just for now. She doubted she’d ever really be a part of their world. But who knew what she might gain from the experience before she, inevitably, was sent back to her home of dusty streets and thievery.

Iryla is about to accept his proposal, when suddenly someone who was not there before appears at Cyran’s side, causing her to jolt back with an embarrassing squeak of surprise. He- What the-

“Where did- How did-” People didn’t just appear out of thin air like that normally, right? She herself had a knack for hiding and appearing when she wasn’t expected, but there was no where for him to have hidden around here where he could appear like that.

Ah, she really was in over her head now, wasn’t she..?

She only catches a few of the signs this newcomer makes to Cyran before he seems to realize he won’t be understood and turns to a game of charades instead. Not that she’d understand much of it to begin with, but there were more than a few mute or deaf beggars to be found in Darkveil, and she had picked up the basics of their language.

Something.. Guard…? This had to be Zarius’ other, er, servant? Servant might be the right word. Or bodyguard, he seemed important enough to have one or even two of those. She watches as he leaves to join the cat in the hallway, and hesitantly turns her attention back to Cyran.

“I…” She pauses for a moment before letting out a breath and continuing. “I can bathe myself. I’m guessing that bundle has the clothes you mentioned. I’ll… I’ll get cleaned up and put them on.” She couldn’t quite see what the make of the clothes or their value might be, but maybe if they were worth something she keep and sell them after this endeavor. That alone might be worth the embarrassment.

Maybe.

…

Okay, probably not. But she had to get through this somehow.

"But- If something happens with those thugs, if they barge in here or something, then you have to call me! I can help!"