[The Rabbit Hole - Crimes Against Nature Part Seven]
While the pair strolled casually through Old Gridania, the young women was given a moment to collect her thoughts. If she had known her date better she would have recognized the change in how he carried himself. The swagger, the air of superiority and success. As it was, she tried not to fidget with her small purse as her mind wandered through the possibilities of the afternoon. For weeks she had suspected that an unseen hnd in the Wailers was moving things behind the scene to cover up the events at Toto-Rak. In this opportunity there was a hint of hope, accompanied by the ever-present whiff of danger. Her recognition of the stakes was something she did her best to conceal behind the cheerful confidence that so often seemed a blissful lack of awareness to others.
It was the charms of her feminine allure that had found her in this situation; the manners of which came more than naturally to her. Some were learned: the natural hip-swaying motion of her walk had been perfected in the tunnel-like streets of Ishgard's deep Foundation, and was emphasized further by the steep heels she always favored. The selection of sweet and simple fragrance was one borne of experience as well as preference. The natural shapeliness of her form only provided the core of a figure shaped by the rigors of conditioning and the demanding life of a dancer. The character and manner were all her own: the natural girlishness that seemed to draw those of a certain persuasion toward her without the need of ever casting a hook.Â
And so it was that she now found herself in the company of one enamored Wood Wailer: Weylan, the last surviving member of the crack unit known as the Sixteenth Spear. She had heard of their grim end: met out by the hands of a mad woman— void-touched ghost of an innocent woman framed for the heinous slaughter of children. She had met the father of one of Weylan's fellow soldiers. She had heard more of the tale than she wished. And now she wondered why this man had survived. By what miracle or design he had escaped the fate of the others. And by what fortune he had fallen into her lap, firmly caught on one of those unintentional hooks.Â
As they walked his mind was similarly occupied, but by a very different character of musing. His eyes focused rather intently, and unbashfully upon the sight of her exposed cleavage, bared in such un-Gridanian fashion. The challenges he pondered were how to keep his step, and not trip, while maximizing his time for ogling.
The name of the open-air cafe that Aya guided them toward was "The Rabbit Hole." It could be found tucked away beneath young trees in what was once a forest clearing along the northern end of the Old Town. Charming and rather quaint despite its recent vintage. there was always a quiet energy about the place as patrons gathered under the branches and at tables and benches sipping the tea and other warm drinks or sampling the chocolaty confections that are their specialty. As the pair entered the space, Aya slowed their walk and announced their arrival, "We're here!"
Her companion only temporarily drew his eyes away from the objects of his fixation so as to nod along with her, "You're right. Perfect spot."
She turned toward him, swiveling side to side on her hips in an expression of pent up energy as she turned that bright grin upon him. "What about something to drink? I think I'll have some honey-tea, its their specialty!"
Weylan nodded, regarding that grin with a chuckle as he drew his hand up to his face, pulling fingers down both sides of his jaw he seemed to think about it.
"Yeah, guess I'll have one too. See if they'll throw in a shot of whiskey for me." He cast a glance around her at the small covered pavilion that was the center of the 'Hole. It was built around a large trunk, the rafters of its crafted roof taking on the look of large boughs, the entire structure looking perfectly at home in the forest. The sight did not fill him with optimism, but worth a shot, right?Â
The blonde let out a cheerful laugh, as if he'd been joking with her. She covered her lips with her fingers as she turned away from him and walked slowly toward the pavilion. Though she wore a bright smile, there was as internal chagrin: "He's going to make me pay for the drinks? Some date!"
Weylan took a few steps, choosing a spot with a particularly fine vantage point. He relieved himself of the burden of his spear, leaning it against the back of the bench before taking a seat. His eyes had never let go, their focus shifting side to side as he watched the curvy sway of hips.Â
As she reached the counter she pushed her left toes near against the bottom of the counter and leaned forward, bent at the waist as she offered a friendly grin to the young woman behind the counter. The motion was most intentional, a favorite from evenings as a barmaid, and one made all the more effective by the snug fit of her leggings upon the shapeliness of the form outlined by her hips.Â
Her companion hadn't missed a moment, and once more drew his hands along his jaw once more as she seemed to so nonchalantly lean across the counter. It really was his day wasn't it!
The pause at the counter gave her a moment to collect her thoughts. She had a good idea who he was, but he seemed to have no idea who she was beyond a pretty face. This gave her an advantage. Few men ever suspected her of an ounce of cleverness, but fewer still who were so infatuated upon just meeting her. She would just keep this up to see if she could learn anything... besides, she glanced back at the young man with his confident features and his shock of dirty-blonde hair, he was kind of cute! It could be worse.
It was a few moments before she joined him at the bench, his smile greeting her grin as she approached him. "Ah, take a seat!" He gestured to the spot beside him, before taking a wincing taste of the tea.
She straightened the skirt of her tunic under her as she took a seat, crossing her legs and slipping her free hand between them. "Now where was I..." he continued. "Ah, yes! The Sixteenth. They only took the very best, so getting in wasn't easy."
She turned awestruck blue-eyes upon him again, "I just can't imagine! There were only sixteen of you?" she asked with all the intentional manner of innocent curiosity.
He looked back with an eyebrow cocked before letting out a hearty laugh as he shook his head. "The Sixteenth," he repeated with extra emphasis, "The Sixteenth Spear." He reached to his side drawing out a leather-covered metal flask. Meanwhile a look of wide-eyed realization came ever her; soft lips hanging open for a moment before she seemed to flush in embarrassment.Â
He chuckled lightly and then nodded along as if helpfully walking her through something that she already knew, "You know, the First Spear, they stay at home and sit on their asses. But the sixteenth?" He swelled up with pride, "The Sixteenth takes the fight to where it belongs. To the poachers and criminals who're ruining the Twelveswood!"
She nodded along, keeping up her well honed part as the clueless blonde. She looked downward toward her lap as she drew her free hand up, thumb touching to her lips, "So there are more than sixteen of you..." she said with a voice just above a whisper.
Weylan cast his blue eyes toward her again, giving an amused smirk that was endearing in its own way. He unstoppered the flask, pouring some amount of the liquor within into his tea. "Aye, so you see, to get into the Sixteenth you have to prove your skill in the line of duty. No easy feat, as they've got strict requirements."
She sipped from her tea, regarding him through the tops of her eyes as she looked over the rim of her cup.Â
"Right, so you see, we were out in the Near Shroud, when we saw some tracks. Bird tracks." He leaned toward her, "Now the other lads wanted to return to base and report the tracks, instead of doing anything about it. Not me though." He sat back up, lips pulled partly to the side. chin lifted with a stern pride. "No, not me. See? Me 'an the Ixal we've got a history. Attacked my home. Killed a few of my friends. I don't run from any chance to fight Ixal, and I wasn't about to let them get away that easy."
He continued with his story. How he had followed them, alone braving the hostile wilderness to track down an enemy camp and surprise them. "I came across a group of about five of 'em, with two of those wolves they like to train. Savage things..." She listened intently. Eyes often widened, looking at him with some intensity. It wan not entirely feigned, "Lousy squad left me on my own. What else was I supposed to do?"
She knew that he might have exaggerated. Perhaps he wasn't as brazen as in his telling. But, as she looked at him she saw a young man not much older than herself. He had been through much. The Sixteenth would not have taken on such a young soldier without good reason. "Aye, I found the Ixal. Cutting down trees! They had one of their balloons there, loading it up with poached timber."
As the telling continued she found herself unwittingly enthralled by the tale. By the thought of this young man and the danger he faced that day in the wood. Of the valor he mush have shown, even if he put the old solider spin on it now. "I made chase! These were Ixal, remember? Savage beasts, worse than poachers, if anything could be. What sort of protector would I be if I suffered even a single one of them to live?"
He slipped his hand to her thigh, giving it a good squeeze. The sensation brought her back to reality. The valiant warrior gave way to the bore. She tried not to gasp. She squirmed slightly but he seemed not to notice. He continued to regale her, working his way through his tea faster than she did her own. She wondered if there really was anything in his tale quite worth it after all.
As he finished the story of his adventure, she brought her hand up to her chest, laying it flat above her heart. He gave her a delighted smirk, "Got a commendation for that. Proactive justice. That's when the Sixteenth started asking about me. They need good trackers, people who can work independently." His hand lifted from her thigh and she almost breathed a silent sigh of relief, but it soon slipped around her back and settled upon her opposite hip. "So aye, I was a perfect fit."
Rather than relief, it was a surprised gasp that escaped freely from her lips and for a moment she tried to wriggle free. But, Weylan either didn't notice, or didn't care. His hand pulled her tighter, drawing her hips against his. She looked to him for a moment, almost aghast, but she she was still curious just what he might know. She took a soft, deep breath and recovered her composure. She regained her smile, softly tuning it toward him more of her curiosity, "They came and recruited you after that?"
"Yep," he nodded with a huge grin. "Came to visit me at the barracks. Whole host of interviews with the new squad captain. Damn fine man. Fuckin' shame.
She lifted her blonde eyebrows, leaning slightly toward him as she cast an inquisitive gaze. She knew, but tried to give him the opposite impression.Â
"Such a shame that he had to die, and some lousy fuckin' adventurers can't even be bothered to get him a proper burial. If it weren't for them— wouldn't have this mess in the Shroud to begin with."
She canted her head, taking on her most confused expression.Â
"You haven't heard?" He looked at her more closely, keeping his snug hold upon her hips as if to comfort her. "The whole Shroud is full of void-corrupted criminals. And half the damn adventurers are helping them, not that the authorities won't stop denying it." He looks at her more intently yet, his hand wandering slowly up her side. "But let me tell you. I'm doing something about it."
She did her very best in that instant to hide her surprise. There it was... her intuition had been right. But, just what had he been up to? She pressed him further, in her own manner.
"But..." she stammered in a light, but concerned voice, her blue eyes looking at him filled with a mixture of worry and impressed curiosity, "That sounds dangerous!"
That's just what Weylan liked to hear and he sat up tall, gently stroking her side with a firm hand. "It is. But I would do anything for the Shroud."
She leaned a bit closer, curiosity winning the struggle over her expression, "What are you going to do abut it...?"
He lowered his voice, a tone of seriousness coming over it. "Corruption spreads even to the highest levels. I can't tell you much. But we're cutting out the rot right at the core." His hand continued its rough embrace, pulling the fabric of her tunic all out of place. He seemed to gaze off into the distance as if contemplating the enormity of the task before him.
Aya seemed somewhat taken aback, feigning the same irritation he had already shown to nudge him into revealing if he were working with anyone, "You're not working with adventurers are you?"
He retorted, sneering, "No, of course not. Its just us Wailers. We're the real protectors. And don't you worry, we're taking care of it. Right to the very top."
"Oh?" She turned toward him, drawing her hand to his shoulder. "Like the ones you're patrolling for, or is it one of those elite units you were talking about joining?"
He nodded slowly with his chin proudly out-thrust. "The most elite. Veterans who still remember what it was like before." He smirked with an undisguised pride, as if he already counted himself among their number. "Not like these others. The ones've got me patrolling? They're part of the problem, too. All their bureaucracy gets in the way of real justice."Â
Aya drew in a deep breath, offering those wide-eyed impressed eyes up to him like bait upon a hook. They glanced downward, as if she were thinking, and then back toward him as he gave her side another squeeze. "They're such a special unit of the Wailers... and they want you?"
She thought of the old wailer: Arden Wood. He had lost his son in the Sixteenth. Could his son have been the Captain? He knew something of what happened it Toto'Rak, could he be one of these veterans?
He nodded, with delight in his eyes, "Aye. They know what's what, but they're old and they need someone young and strong to help. That's where I come in." He smirked, "And with my history of taking on rough jobs? Yeah."
So there were more... she made mental note of everything he said. She focused on keeping her demeanor relaxed, amused. Her eyes stayed wide and flirtatious, her movements playful.
She pursed her lips, giving a soft little giggle as she adopted a teasing tone, "So do you have any help with this or are you too worried about competition for joining the unit?"
He glanced a bit side-to-side as if scanning the area. "Yeah, yeah. Mmm, a few others. Just a few. Have to be careful, though. Never know who might be listening. Hey— just stick with me and I might introduce you." He emphasized the offer with a suggestive grin and a possessive squeeze of her side.
Hey eyes shone with an unfeigned excitement.Â
"Yeah...you mean it? Really?!" she leaned closer, fighting to keep her voice quiet in her excitement. "You'd introduce me to the most elite Wood Wailers in all of the Shroud?"  She narrowed her eyes, conspiratorially, "They're not like... the Grey Lances, or anything like that are they? I can only imagine what sort of secret code name they must go by!"
He grinned back, but there was a hint of something different in his expression: trepidation. "Yeah, really. I gotta make sure, though, y'know?"
She looked back, blonde eyebrows lifted with with a baffled disappointment lifts those blonde eyebrows, "Make sure of what?"
He grew slightly defensive. "Check with my friends. You know. Make sure they're okay with you stopping by."
She had to convince him to let her meet them, how could she let an opportunity like this slip her by?
She pursed her lips, pushing her head away from him and tilting it back his way and looked at him out of the side of her eyes. Clearly not impressed, "Where's that brave Lancer you've been telling me all about?"
He looked at her, his lips pulled taut for a moment before they drew back into a smirk. "You're right. Hah. He's right here." He nodded to himself and gave her another squeeze. "I'll take you to meet my friend. I'm supposed to meet him in a week or so at the Boar." He chuckled lightly, "He'll be happy to see you."
Aya's pursed-lip teasing gaze erupted into a radiant, ebullient grin. "Oooooh, I just can't wait!" she squealed excitedly. Her heart skipped a beat within her breast. She stood at the edge of a precipice, but she did not know how deep.
Weylan grinned broadly at hep excitement, giving her another gentle squeeze. "Aye. I'm lookin' forward to it, too. Though, think I need to get back to work. How about we meet for dinner sometime?"
She nodded in agreement, keeping the full begrudgingness of the request to herself, "That sounds nice! Monsieur Weylan, Brave Shroud Lancer!" she settled back into the seat and grinned at him.
"Lady Aya, beautiful flower of the Shroud. Fear not, we will keep you safe." He leaned toward her, his romantic offering no doubt deserving of a kiss, right?
Rather deftly, the girl slipped her finger before his lips. She canted her head and grinned brightly at him, "Oh Monsieur, not on the first date! It is a saying of ours!"
She girded herself, knowing that the charade must for now be maintained; clever improvisation would only get her so far. On the cheek, she thought, but make it good.
She leaned forward to give him a gentle kiss on the cheek. She allowed herself to linger for a moment, before opening her eyes slowly, long dark lashes moving before his eyes. At last she looked at him with own bright blues and slowly withdrew, a warm, purse-lipped smile upon her lips and a hint of her lipstick left behind upon ruddy cheek.Â
Weylan grinned like a boy, seeming to overcome his disappointment for now. He released her, stood, and finish.e the last of his tea in a single drought. "Aye, aye, fair enough. I'll come find you for our date!." He unhooked his mask from his belt.
Aya nodded, grinning as she watched him don the mask, and then waved to him as he returned to his patrol.
One bullet dodged. For Now. But just how deep can this all go?
[Credit to Nihka for the RP scene and her creepy character, Weylan!]