Red Blood, Blue Blood [Red Rogue Ch. 2][COMPLETE]
Dec 20, 2022 19:38:39 GMT -5
Post by Cyran Fenastra-Asiliari on Dec 20, 2022 19:38:39 GMT -5
There were many ways that Marlow Fenastra predicted the night could have gone. She was a businesswoman through and through- prepared for any contingency and had a litany of backup plans for any situation. It was the hallmark of any successful businesswoman to be able to flow like water and adapt, in order to ensure that affairs went smoothly.
And yet, even the shrewd businesswoman, the repolished gem of the Fenastra Clan, had shortcomings of her own. For all that youth bred innovation and change, it neglected the boons that were granted experience. Marlow may have been capable, but even she, somehow, could not have foreseen the thief outsmarting the bodyguard she’d hired because in her mind, her plan had to succeed. Perhaps there would be a thief, but Seiya was all sharp around the edges, exactly like the kind of guards that Grandfather kept posted around the mansion for reasons he would not explain. Marlow’s past experiences had shown her that those guards could keep out any thief from entering the premises- it had given her the false security that Seiya would be enough to deter the Red Rogue.
Hasty, hasty, hasty.
So one could imagine her surprise when she arrived the next morning to find holes in the walls and one incredibly confused bodyguard who was unable to explain how a critical portion of the shipment had been spirited away in the middle of the night.
“It’s gone?”
In contrast to her composed and poised demeanor from only the day before, Marlow Fenastra looked a far cry from that now- a look of utter shock and anger had thawed her otherwise cold expression, and her gloved hands were balled into fists in her skirt, as if she were making an attempt at ripping it apart with her bare hands.
“What do you mean, there are crates missing? And you say you have no memory of this event?” She stopped before attempting to smooth out her dress with her hands- remember what Grandfather taught you. Poise. Composure. A Fenestra does not behave in an unsightly manner.
The wrinkles in her skirt remained all the same.
“No, don’t answer that.” He’d already explained at length the strange hole in his memory, as if someone had plucked out an hour of his life from his brain. He could no sooner explain the scratches on his chest than he could who had taken them, which seemed to have vanished from his mind like a wisp of smoke.
That simply couldn’t be. If the thief had taken any bit of the shipment, then Madam Seriko wouldn’t be happy, and she’d report back to Grandfather, who’d hear all about how her first outing was a horrible failure, that she’d let some common thief get the best of her.
“No.” She breathed, suddenly unable to look Seiya in the eyes. “No, no, we cannot allow this to happen. Do you remember anything? Anything at all that might be useful?”
“I told ya’,” Seiya responded, shoulders tense with the irritation of someone who’d repeated this exact same thing as nauseum, “Someone was there, but I ain’t got a clue who they were.” He wrinkled his nose, a deep look of concentration on his face as if he was trying to force the memories he’d lost to return to the surface. “Can’t recall a thing about ‘em. ‘Xcept for the fact that they shoulda been wearin’ red…”
Marlow wasn’t sure how to respond to that, nor did she particularly want to. She had more pressing matters on her plate than whether the Red Rogue actually lived up to his name or not. Who cared how the thief dressed? If she had her way they would be dead come sunset.
“We need to get those crates back, Seiya.” She said, though it sounded more like the desperate plea of a young girl than the harsh, demanding woman she should have been in this moment. Another mistake. “Madam Seriko demands perfection. Please, we-“ Her voice cracked.
A Fenastra did not say please.
Marlow sighed, all the fight draining her at once. That small vulnerability was immediately covered up with a stern demeanor and that same cold expression that she’d worn during their first briefing. “He can’t have gotten far. I’ll pay you double what I promised if you track him down and get the wine back. No, triple! Burn that thief’s hideout to the ground, raze it, smoke him out, whatever you have to do!” The money truly didn’t matter to her- Marlow would spend all the money in the world if it meant Grandfather would not hear about her shortcomings.
She would do whatever it took- Marlow’s hands held no power of their own, not like Seiya’s did. Attempting to comb through every square inch of the city would be useless for someone of her stature. But what she did have at her disposal, she would use until her resources had run dry. Anything not to make the same mistakes her predecessor had.
She would complete this job while Seiya searched- all she had to do was smooth things over with Madam Seriko, ensure her business partner that everything was under control. Yes, Seiya could take care of things, he would find the thief and ground that bastard to a pulp and destroy his hideout, and Marlow would handle the other side. She had this under control.
However, it wasn’t until Seiya left that Marlow’s composure finally cracked. Alone in the warehouse, there would be no one around to hear her anguished scream.
There was a brief moment, in the safety of the bamboo forest when all was quiet around him, that Cyran felt at peace.
That was exactly what told him it would not last.
He’d made his way to the hideout the employer had instructed him to bring the stolen goods to with the meager amount of shipment he’d managed to get his hands on in the dead of night. The old tea shop, now resembling more of an abandoned hut than a fine store, was nestled right at the edge of the Bamboo Forest, between thick stalks of the native plant. There was no lantern to signal his homecoming, though Cyran made his way in all the same before setting the crates down in an empty back room.
The rest of his night was spent in silence, replaying that encounter in his mind. It was a foolish mistake to give that bodyguard his location so blatantly- even though he had erased his presence from the young man’s mind, it wouldn’t take a lot to put the pieces together and figure out what the location referred to.
Still, he was not especially on guard as he made his way through the abandoned shop, brushing through doorways and past windows like a lone spirit haunting the quiet, settled bones of this building. His footsteps did not make a sound as he made his way to a room filled with cabinets and jars of old, partially crushed leaves. He sighed, running his finger along the dust, leaving behind a long, thin, line. How long would it take for even this evidence that he was here to disappear once everything was said and done and the dust had resettled, angry that it had been disturbed?
Those melancholic thoughts guided him to one of the jars at random, examining its contents. It would have to do for now- he had a bit of time before he was supposed to report back to his employer, and in that time, he could be expecting a visitor.
Well, if he was in a tea house, he may as well make some tea to pass the time.
And yet, even the shrewd businesswoman, the repolished gem of the Fenastra Clan, had shortcomings of her own. For all that youth bred innovation and change, it neglected the boons that were granted experience. Marlow may have been capable, but even she, somehow, could not have foreseen the thief outsmarting the bodyguard she’d hired because in her mind, her plan had to succeed. Perhaps there would be a thief, but Seiya was all sharp around the edges, exactly like the kind of guards that Grandfather kept posted around the mansion for reasons he would not explain. Marlow’s past experiences had shown her that those guards could keep out any thief from entering the premises- it had given her the false security that Seiya would be enough to deter the Red Rogue.
Hasty, hasty, hasty.
So one could imagine her surprise when she arrived the next morning to find holes in the walls and one incredibly confused bodyguard who was unable to explain how a critical portion of the shipment had been spirited away in the middle of the night.
“It’s gone?”
In contrast to her composed and poised demeanor from only the day before, Marlow Fenastra looked a far cry from that now- a look of utter shock and anger had thawed her otherwise cold expression, and her gloved hands were balled into fists in her skirt, as if she were making an attempt at ripping it apart with her bare hands.
“What do you mean, there are crates missing? And you say you have no memory of this event?” She stopped before attempting to smooth out her dress with her hands- remember what Grandfather taught you. Poise. Composure. A Fenestra does not behave in an unsightly manner.
The wrinkles in her skirt remained all the same.
“No, don’t answer that.” He’d already explained at length the strange hole in his memory, as if someone had plucked out an hour of his life from his brain. He could no sooner explain the scratches on his chest than he could who had taken them, which seemed to have vanished from his mind like a wisp of smoke.
That simply couldn’t be. If the thief had taken any bit of the shipment, then Madam Seriko wouldn’t be happy, and she’d report back to Grandfather, who’d hear all about how her first outing was a horrible failure, that she’d let some common thief get the best of her.
“No.” She breathed, suddenly unable to look Seiya in the eyes. “No, no, we cannot allow this to happen. Do you remember anything? Anything at all that might be useful?”
“I told ya’,” Seiya responded, shoulders tense with the irritation of someone who’d repeated this exact same thing as nauseum, “Someone was there, but I ain’t got a clue who they were.” He wrinkled his nose, a deep look of concentration on his face as if he was trying to force the memories he’d lost to return to the surface. “Can’t recall a thing about ‘em. ‘Xcept for the fact that they shoulda been wearin’ red…”
Marlow wasn’t sure how to respond to that, nor did she particularly want to. She had more pressing matters on her plate than whether the Red Rogue actually lived up to his name or not. Who cared how the thief dressed? If she had her way they would be dead come sunset.
“We need to get those crates back, Seiya.” She said, though it sounded more like the desperate plea of a young girl than the harsh, demanding woman she should have been in this moment. Another mistake. “Madam Seriko demands perfection. Please, we-“ Her voice cracked.
A Fenastra did not say please.
Marlow sighed, all the fight draining her at once. That small vulnerability was immediately covered up with a stern demeanor and that same cold expression that she’d worn during their first briefing. “He can’t have gotten far. I’ll pay you double what I promised if you track him down and get the wine back. No, triple! Burn that thief’s hideout to the ground, raze it, smoke him out, whatever you have to do!” The money truly didn’t matter to her- Marlow would spend all the money in the world if it meant Grandfather would not hear about her shortcomings.
She would do whatever it took- Marlow’s hands held no power of their own, not like Seiya’s did. Attempting to comb through every square inch of the city would be useless for someone of her stature. But what she did have at her disposal, she would use until her resources had run dry. Anything not to make the same mistakes her predecessor had.
She would complete this job while Seiya searched- all she had to do was smooth things over with Madam Seriko, ensure her business partner that everything was under control. Yes, Seiya could take care of things, he would find the thief and ground that bastard to a pulp and destroy his hideout, and Marlow would handle the other side. She had this under control.
However, it wasn’t until Seiya left that Marlow’s composure finally cracked. Alone in the warehouse, there would be no one around to hear her anguished scream.
There was a brief moment, in the safety of the bamboo forest when all was quiet around him, that Cyran felt at peace.
That was exactly what told him it would not last.
He’d made his way to the hideout the employer had instructed him to bring the stolen goods to with the meager amount of shipment he’d managed to get his hands on in the dead of night. The old tea shop, now resembling more of an abandoned hut than a fine store, was nestled right at the edge of the Bamboo Forest, between thick stalks of the native plant. There was no lantern to signal his homecoming, though Cyran made his way in all the same before setting the crates down in an empty back room.
The rest of his night was spent in silence, replaying that encounter in his mind. It was a foolish mistake to give that bodyguard his location so blatantly- even though he had erased his presence from the young man’s mind, it wouldn’t take a lot to put the pieces together and figure out what the location referred to.
Still, he was not especially on guard as he made his way through the abandoned shop, brushing through doorways and past windows like a lone spirit haunting the quiet, settled bones of this building. His footsteps did not make a sound as he made his way to a room filled with cabinets and jars of old, partially crushed leaves. He sighed, running his finger along the dust, leaving behind a long, thin, line. How long would it take for even this evidence that he was here to disappear once everything was said and done and the dust had resettled, angry that it had been disturbed?
Those melancholic thoughts guided him to one of the jars at random, examining its contents. It would have to do for now- he had a bit of time before he was supposed to report back to his employer, and in that time, he could be expecting a visitor.
Well, if he was in a tea house, he may as well make some tea to pass the time.