Chapter 2: Consolidation and the Hunt

After the less than perfect greetings, Archer and Annette can begin a conversation not shrouded by drink. This, however, does little to stem Annette's baser urges.

The day drug on for the pair, few words were said to pass the time. This was not from a feeling of malice, they simply didn’t know what to say after breakfast. As the sun crawled to its highest peak in midday, Annette had retired her parasol in favor of avoiding the boxes of light from the windows. Her actions were inconspicuous for any lapse in her acting was covered by an exaggerated dance in which she stuck out her tongue, imitating some sort of game she played with herself. To this, Archer simply rolled her eyes. Her hangover had improved since breakfast, dragging with it her mood kicking and screaming. When she made for her basement to obtain a bottle of mead from her private store, Annette caught her, ushering Archer to the kitchen to wait as she was preparing lunch. Only now did Archer ask the obvious questions, only now could she ask them.

Archer settled herself in the chair, resting one arm on the table. “So, what’re you doin’ in the Capital?” Her eyebrow cocked in curiosity.

Annette spun her hips in time with the stirring of her soup, halting the quiet humming of the song within her head. “Idunno. I was walking around Outside for so long and then I figured I’d come in.” A smile graced her lips as she turned to shrug.

“That’s it?” Her curiosity turned to confusion. Luckily, her dark skin kept hidden her blush from watching Annette’s hips.

                “Mmhmm.”

                “Then… You live Outside?” Archer shifted in her chair.

                “Now I do. Does that make me spooooky?” She waggled her fingers, expanding her smile to a toothy grin.

                “N-Kinda-whatever.” A gulp punctuated her sentence. “Then where’d you get the dress?”

                Annette had, at this point, returned to her soup and hummed to herself while clanging the spoon against the side of the pot. “What?” Was all she could say.

Archer took the hint and dropped the question with a combination of apathy towards it and an unwillingness to press the issue.

‘Some dumbass noble kid got lost outside and went nuts living out there.’ She thought to herself.

“When’re you leaving?” Archer said with a raised voice, acting as if this was the question she asked.

“Idunno.” Again, Annette swayed her butt in time with her spinning. Then, in time with her swaying, she spun on her heel to pluck the bowl from the table, into which she poured the soup for Archer. “Do you want me to leave?” She added with an exaggerated frown.

Archer could only stutter in annoyance and lack of answer. Annette then giggled and transferred quickly into a new subject.

“My turn for questions!” She squatted, plopped her elbows onto the table, and rested her head into her hands. “Hmm… Where’d you get that?” She pointed at Archer’s hood, which she’d yet to remove.

“A group I was in.” She swirled her spoon in her soup, inspecting the food, yet turning her look into admiration for its quality.

“What group?”

“A political action group.” Archer tasted the soup, finishing with an impressed scoff. “Good job.”

Annette gasped. “Really??”

“Yeah.” Archer’s lips cracked into a smile.

“Yes…” Annette let her victory sink in before returning to her questions. “Where’d you get that?” She pointed at the bow laying on the ground before the door.

“I made it.”

“YOU CAN DO THAT?” Annette proclaimed with astonishment.

                Again, Archer smiled. But this one almost exposed her teeth. “Y-yeah. It’s layered with sinew and naturally layered wood with a dragon bone covering.”

                “How’d you cover it with dragon bone??” Annette leaned forward, enthralled.

                “It’s really not hard. Just stick the bone in regular vinegar and … Olive oil, I think. I don’t really remember. Then boil it until it’s soft. Then bend it around the rest of the bow and let it dry.”

                Annette’s jaw hung open. Archer took another sip of her soup.

                “Aren’t you gonna eat?” Archer asked.

                “I ate at breakfast.” Annette waved her off after picking up her jaw.

                “And it’s lunch now. Wait, -did- you eat at breakfast?” Archer’s eyes narrowed as she rubbed her head.

                “Mmhmm. You probably don’t remember because you were still drunk.” Annette said with a mischievous giggle.

                “Hung over!! That’s not-“Archer shut up as Annette turned her giggle into a snicker, both noticing Archer had been baited.

***

Night was again upon the city. Guards began their patrols along the walls, ensuring the bonfires gleamed their protective shield of visibility. Few creatures beyond the stray cat or crow drew near to the blaze. As a pair of guards marched passed Archer’s home, they recalled last night’s altercation at the Inn. It was about time someone put that revolting low life in his place. They continued their nightly patrols.

Annette hovered near her host, yet not so close as to truly appear hovering. As Archer affixed her armor and gear for her nightly regression to the bar, perhaps more in habit than in need, she caved.

“Yes. You can stay the fu- the night again.” A groan pass as she extended her hospitality.

Annette erupted in glee, but promptly contained her excitement to fall back onto her manners. With a curtsy she gave her goodbyes. As Archer departed for the night, any instructions for her home without her presence were lost in the fog of her desires for drink. However, they would not be heeded as Annette had no plans to remain in the home for long. She would return before Archer, yet, other business must be concluded first. Her feet remained locked in place until an ample amount of time had passed, and thus, she departed.

***

                Annette took a moment to lean against the closed door of Archer’s manor among the sparse lighting from the crescent moon. With a breath to prepare herself, she began her hunt and surged onto the paved streets. Her target was seared into her mind, and the course was set.

***

                As Annette arrived at her destination, she kneeled before the side window of the Inn. The fact that her patched dress now rested in a puddle of unknown liquid lay far below her main priority. Peeking to her last seat, she surveyed the area, and came upon the unsightly brigand from last night. She had forgotten the disgusting aura he exuded. His pustules and unkempt clothes ensured he must pursue forced sex to have a hope of a woman’s touch. Even the woman in his entourage paid little attention to their “leader”. He must rule from fear as when he began to erupt in laughter, his cohorts did so as well, even if they spoke amongst themselves and knew nothing about what caused his laughter. His rolls of excess fat showed his control of them further as he must do nothing of his own fruition. The world would be better off without him.

                The man and his band sat further from Archer, who had, once again, slumped over her drink. On occasion, a member of this trio would peak towards her, perhaps surveying her, perhaps leaning in to whisper a joke as the rest laughed. Yet each of these ended the same; all would lose their laugher and fall into a silent, anger filled acceptance of their defeat. One of these laugher fits was ceased when the leader clasped his leg. His henchmen turned to him and motioned to the door. Enraged the man extended an accusing finger, at which they cowered. Only after finishing his drink did he begin to rise. The woman rose to his aid but she was cowed as he hurled his stein at her. He hobbled to the door.

                Annette, in a single, silent, and effortless motion, now leapt to the roof of the Inn. With her new perspective she waited, laying prone and clutching the wooden shingles of the roof.

                The man limped through the door, cursing and smacking at his own leg. Each smack caused him to waver in his drunken steps. The similarities to Archer passed directly over Annette’s focused mind. His awkward steps trudged him through the streets. All those still populating them either moved aside or were forced to do so by his hulking frame. Any who began a quarrel were met with vulgar language and drunken flails of his fists. Even a passing guard decided to allow this man to stumble home as not to endanger herself.

Annette followed as a specter. With grace she leapt from building to building as if she were taking a single step for each. All the while her posture remained immaculate, and her parasol rested on her shoulder, unopened. Those bonfires upon the wall did little to illuminate Annette’s wraithlike form, as their backs were covered to allow all light to point outwards into the Outside.

Soon, the man clutched his crotch. He had forgotten to relieve himself before departing the Inn and entered an alley on his right. This alley, between two homes, housed a drainage grate between them indicating this was the repository for their collective filth. Making his way to the grate, the man fuddled with his trousers, unable to fish out his penis. Curses, as had become typical of this man, flowed from his mouth as if they were nothing more than his outward breaths. Now, Annette dropped from above, the noiseless plop of a nebulous shadow. A black mask covered this executioner, the mask of her all engrossing desires. Her parasol sat as the axe, but the killing blow was from a concealed blade. Two shining implements of death bared themselves.

Author's Note

Please tell me any and all thoughts, ideas, or criticisms, be they good, bad, small, or large. :)