A thin trail of smoke wafted over the head of a man, seated in one of the public squares that dotted the city landscape. Only the lightest breeze rustled the leaves of the tree he sat under, inching the smoke along lazily through the air. The long, thin pipe clutched between his teeth wavered a bit when the red cloaked man took a puff. Whatever was in the ornatly carved bowl had a aromatic scent that seemed to have a calming effect upon anyone it passed by.

Cautiously, Sovelis opened one eye to look around the courtyard. The people avoided him because of the smoke, and because he was situated out of everyone's way on the grass. A stray green blade poked up between his fingers, tickling his skin a bit. He didn't mind it though, the day was relaxing. The day was peacful and quiet for now. But he knew not to expect it to last too long, things aways seemed to happen whenever the Tempest was in town.

OoC: I am mainly posting this because you left the "l" out of "always". And it's not "orantly", it's "ornately". Lol, just here to help out. XP

IC: Keychain's nose scrunched up. The folds of skin traveled to her forehead. A headache was starting to pound through her temple. What was causing this? She didn't have one earlier in the day, so why would one start right now? Her nimble fingers rubbed at her temples, trying to calm the pounding that felt like her heartbeat after a run. She went to leave the courtyard, but then she saw the man in her sights and frowned deeply at his smoking.

She walked over to him, hands on her hips. Her long dark red hair fell in her face briefly before she brushed it away and placed the hand back where it was. Keychain scowled deeply at him. "Excuse me," she said, "There are some people who can't stand the smell of smoke, so would you please find somewhere else to smoke?" The light was starting to bother her sight. The headache was starting to get worse.

A young woman in a dark cloak with emerald embroidery slunk around the courtyard, as if she were trespassing. She scanned the people in the courtyard once, twice, three times. She didn't intend to be a pickpocket today, but old habits never died. Money was still a wonderfully tempting thing, but she steeled her quick fingers. She didn't need any at the moment, and there was no reason to cause any trouble on her first day back in town after such a long absence.

Out of the corner of her eye she noticed that strange little girl, Keychain- and with the sight came the old pangs of guilt and regret. She'd offered to take care of the girl, once upon a time. But whenever the thief returned Key seemed to be stronger than before, and capable of taking care of herself. So the thief stayed away.

There was another interesting sight: a man in a conspicuous red cloak, smoking. Key was reprimanding him, the thief realized, as she crept closer from behind to listen. A wry smile spread across the thief's face. If the man wanted to burn his lungs, let him. If it's not hurting you, why bother? The thief had changed, but not enough that she still didn't believe in keeping her nose out of other people's business and questionable habits. Such an attitude, she knew, came from having a handful of questionable habits herself.

The man seemed very calm for being an environmental hazard.

It's a nice day, the thief thought, and debated on whether she should approach Key or not. She really should, though, she knew. It'd been a while since she'd talked to anyone.

And so she crept even closer.

Her brow furrowed with confusion. The man smoking the pipe- she knew him, once upon a time when she had dabbled in... what was it? Alchemy... Her thoughts flashed back to the dark, foreboding mansion she had temporarily been able to call home. Was it really him, though? At any rate, she wasn't about to go rushing up to him. That's what the old Arrika would have done- the bubbly Arrika, the somewhat bipolar one, given to flashes of sudden cheerfulness amidst her usual sea of moodiness. No. If he cared... if he cared at all... if he ever remembered her, and if she wasn't just a nameless face in his time-defying existence (which she was and had always been convinced she was), he would approach her first.

And so the thief made her way to the other side of the courtyard, in plain view of both he and Key.

It was amazing how filthy the air could be.

A small grain of pollen drifted peacefully through the already dust ridden air, the sun’s light tinting the tiny body with a shade of yellowish green. It spun about half way, as if pirouetting to a waltz entirely unknown to others. And indeed, it was entirely unknown and unseen by normal eyes. Such a small speck on the face of a world dominated by higher and bigger beings could not dare to expect to be recognized. And perhaps that was better.

Not really.

A claw-like hand flew out into the sun basked sky, its skin pale and hardly healthy-looking. It grasped the pollen accurately, and a flurry of dust swept past the angry fist like fireflies from an intruder.

“Pollen.”

Sakiko’s eyes narrowed into slits, her face truly a model of irritation. Her pallid skin looked atrociously attacked by the sun’s ferocious rays, and the mage held up a piece of cloth to her nose. She hated the sun and she hated tree (plants and whatnot) reproduction, of all things! The only reason why she had stepped out of the cool solace of the comfortable indoor darkness was to collect herbs. Yes, had her stock of herbs been in plenty, she would not have bothered to mingle with dust and pollen ridden Hyrule.

Nevertheless….

“AHHHHCHOOOOOO!!!!!

A striking flash of silver hit the visions of some pedestrians as the mage’s hair flew in all directions. Sakiko flung the piece of cloth ill-humoredly on the grassy patch and stomped on it to make it disappear. A little bit of magic didn’t hurt now and then – especially when one did not have enough herbs to make oneself potions to guard against dust and other menial atrocities.

But alas, it was not pollen that had been the culprit of the mage’s rather unladylike sneeze. It was a man. Smoking. Sakiko scowled, seeing his contented face, piping on the disgusting material like some drunkard. Good – she wasn’t in a good mood anyway; perhaps this man ought to learn some valuable lessons about which weed to burn.

“You there!”

Sakiko strode to the despicable man quickly…

Sovelis!

What! She had not seen him in what seemed to be years. Where had he been, the rascal? But her surprise didn’t end there, fortunately. Sakiko’s eyes widened further (yes, all of her irritation forgotten) as she beheld the little thief standing by. She shivered, feeling anger and happiness simultaneously. She had missed her “dear” bandit ever since her sudden disappearance after the rather momentous Christmas Party. She looked as mischievous and dark as ever, so ready to filch and disappear into the shadows according to her whim. All other sights melted into the world of the forgotten as Sakiko swept towards Arrika.

“You! Where have you been, you? Do you have any idea how much you were….er, missed? Supposedly, according to Zeze, that is. I had to endure so much talk about you.”

OoC: Just like the old days, eh? I'm getting nostalgic.

IC: The thief flinched and shrank back beneath her hood. "I don't know what you're talking about, witch," she replied coldly. "You must have me confused with someone else."

The thief strode away, drawing her cloak closer around her body and surrendering her spot in Sovelis' line of sight. Reflexively she erected barriers around her mind, as if the silver-haired mage would interrogate her that way next. Why couldn't these people just leave her alone? These... magic users... The thief had had her fill of the arcane arts, and from her experience they always did more harm than good. She didn't trust them anymore, not after what she had gone through. Not after what Kobas had done.

It's not like she was hurting you, whispered the rational voice inside her mind. Not like him. She missed you...

No! She just wants something from you. You don't need her anymore, the other half of her replied.

And with that, the thief begrudgingly admitted to herself that she had lied to not recognize her old friend.

You're a mess. You finally come back to town after all this time, then deny the reason for doing so? Make up your mind.

Definitely not. Absolutely not. How could she forget the voice so thickly coated with biting acidity? Witch? Sakiko brushed her eyes across her robe, wondering if she really looked like one. It wasn't as if she was holding onto a tell-tale staff, or had a sign around her neck declaring her magical disposition. Rather, she was commonly dressed (albeit lightly, as the weather was forbiddingly hot) as any other Hylian. It was definitely Arrika.

But she had to admit that was she stung by this rather warm welcome. In all honesty, Sakiko had expected Arrika to run up and - goddesses forbid - embrace her. If anything, this was a greeting so surreal she could not respond to it with equal coldness.

"What? I know who you are, Arrika."

The mage felt a sliver of coldness snaking down from her heart to her stomach, sickening her until she felt disgusted by her cowardice. Because, truthfully, she was afraid the little thief would reject her once again. What happened during the long "forever" since they were separated? What had hurt her once cheerful friend? She halfheartedly lifted her arm, as if to reach for the retreating figure. But alas, the coward that she was - she withdrew her hand and waited with a blank expression for the thief to renounce her previous comment.

The thief flinched at her name. She halted midstep and turned slowly to face Sakiko.

Despite the sun bearing down on them, she felt no discomfort with her cloak on. Living in the desert, among the Gerudo, had pushed her physical limits. But this witch- addressing her by name gave her sudden chills.

She lowered her hood, as if finally acquiescing to Sakiko's attention. "You know Arrika. But you don't know me."

Truth be told this was the same thief that Sakiko had befriended long ago. But there were significant differences between the energetic rogue of the past and the wiry youth before the mage. For one thing, the thief had shorn off her long black hair into a severe pixie cut that only served to accentuate the prominent cheek bones and hollows of her face. The thief had always been thin, but if possible had gotten even leaner. She was considerably paler and had dark shadows under her eyes, and her expression was constantly wary and guarded.

And then there were the eyes. She had been an anomaly, for a Sheikah, and for as long as the thief herself could remember she had had extremely dark eyes. Now they were their original shade of crimson, but the brilliant color only made them seem more piercing and hostile.

Fleeing to the desert had taken its toll, but her isolation had given her an extra edge. She walked with more confidence- if anything, she resembled a hunter. A rapier hung at her side next to a deadly looking collection of daggers and knives, and she had become skilled at using the new longer weapon.

Flinching; that was always a good sign. It meant that the "opponent" - in this case, Arrika - had been affected by whatever Sakiko had said. The mage almost relaxed her tense facade, thanking the goddesses silently that it was Arrika. It would've been quite an embarrassment had it been some other stranger, but that was the least important.

"You know Arrika. But you don't know me."

The moment the thief had turned around, Sakiko's hand had curled into a tight fist. Her knuckles glowed white, as if all flow of blood had been cut off. Indeed, she had reason to. The rogue that she had once known had transformed into a vicious, wary ... she really had no idea how to describe it. Certainly, not a monster - although, if she thought of it deeply enough, perhaps a monster did exist in the deeps of Arrika's soul. But a friend? This stranger in front of her was right; nowhere on her hostile, isolating expression did she have a glimpse of friendliness on her.

For a fleeting second, Sakiko cringed with a wave of fear. What if this thief in front of her had hurt Arrika in some way?

But no, she knew the transformation as well, if not more, than anyone else did. This was the surfacing of hurt and agony - the same change she had experienced so long ago. Sakiko was faced with a grim reality, and only one that Arrika herself had embraced to change her this way. The mage only hoped that this change was temporary...which probably wasn't.

Sakiko smiled grimly, her thin lips pressing into a pale, upturned line.

"What are you going to do, then, Arrika, if I really don't know who you are? Are you going to turn your back on me?"

Her fist clenched even tighter, if that was possible. Her outwardly calm gray eyes watched the blood-ruby orbs meticulously, watching for any signs of weakness or readiness to even attack. She didn't know about this new Arrika, but she knew that the old one was prone to sudden fits of anger.

So, then. Whatever would come would come.

"I think it would be best for both of us if you just stayed out of my way," the thief said quietly, her hand visibly moving to rest on the pommel of her rapier.

Her eyes flicked back to the smoking Tempest. Yes, it was good to see him, and yes, deep down, she had missed him all these years. But this was no time to rekindle an old romance, or even an old friendship. There was only one reason why she had returned to Castle Town, and that was to track down Kobas. The Tempest could and would certainly help her, and she was willing to give up almost anything in exchange for her revenge. She had trained among the Gerudo, but she knew that realistically speaking she was still no match for the immortal blue-haried rogue, who would certainly use his greater knowledge of the arcane arts to his advantage. As much as she had grown to rely on herself and only herself, this endeavor would come to nothing without outside help.

She glanced back at Sakiko. She was so damn persistent. What did she want, for Arrika to burst into tears of joy and hug her or something equally melodramatic? Well, the witch was a witch, and maybe there was some use to her after all. She had not seen Sakiko for a long time, but from what she could remember the witch was only moderately skillful at her craft at best.

Kobas was far beyond "moderately skillful".

And so the only solution the thief saw for the useless situation before her was simply... to get rid of it.

Her hand strayed to the poison-tipped needles instead. She would make this quick, once she got Sakiko into a less public area. All the witch was doing was hindering her... by making her remember what she used to be and all she had lost.

Silent anger and irritation ebbed into her being as Sakiko clearly saw the look of calculation on Arrika's face. She couldn't help noting spitefully that it was all Arrika would do; she would calculate what was best for her, for her safety, for her comfort - and others? Why would that matter? Sakiko's complexion turned bitter as Arrika made a quick movement.

She was a thief, but Sakiko was observant. She saw those hands linger on what seemed to be needles. And if she knew Arrika, the little rogue wouldn't bother carrying around normal needles, either. What damage could such small inconveniences do? No - they would be dipped in the most dangerous of poisons.

Sakiko was outraged. How could she even consider trying to harm her in this way? Did those years of friendship evaporate into the air? Did they mean nothing to this pilferer?

Her thoughts leaked out as she heard herself say softly and even maliciously,

"Of course, you never had a sense of honor. You've always acted to benefit yourself - I can at least say that much hasn't changed about you. You may have cut your hair, and your eyes may have changed color, but you have always been this selfish scrounger. So, then, why don't you try to kill me?"

Her hands tightened around the needles. Do it! she urged herself, but she hesitated. Logically, she should kill Sakiko then and there. The witch now knew she had returned, and somehow, Kobas would get wind of it and ruin her advantage.

"Only out of necessity," she replied just as coldly, "and I see nothing wrong with it. We all do what we can to survive."

She wanted to kill her, just to get that smug self-righteous look off her face.

"I don't have to try," the thief spat. "I could kill you in an instant."

And as she said that, doubts began to form in the back of her mind. She cursed herself silently; what was she waiting for? The witch was asking for it.

The thief hated indecisiveness and convinced herself it was solely because killing Sakiko in public would draw far too much attention.

Sakiko smiled, mockingly. It would've been better if Arrika just went ahead and started to attack her; it was far better than this thick tension that hung between them like curtains. The mage repeated tauntingly,

"Instantly? With your little needles? Do go ahead, by all means."

Her light gray eyes gleamed with cold acerbity, knowing full well that Arrika could do far more damage than the mage led on herself to admit. Although she wasn't as skillful as other Sheikah warriors of her acquaintances, she knew that she was a Sheikah nonetheless. And she knew their ways - much more than she would've liked. For only knowledge gave one fear, and she grew rather pallid at the thought of their abilities to melt into shadows, suddenly place their deadly weapons at your throat...

The sun became unbearably hot, oppressing her silvery head with its wretched, burning rays. Sakiko grew even more tense, trying to seem unmovable as stone. But it was so hard...with all the dust and warmth...

"ARRRRIIIIKKKKKKKKAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

It was now Sakiko's time to flinch, as she heard the distinctive, high pitched, overly cheerful call. This time, the voice was dripping with cheerfulness and surprise, albeit pleasantly tinged. The mage barely had time to allow herself time to brace herself for the onslaught, as the infamous, tattooed bard came flying through the streets. A puff of dust accompanied Zeze's quick feet as she ran towards Arrika with only the thief in her sight.

Although it wasn't to her disadvantage; although Sakiko and Zeze missed Arrika with equal intensity, the bard was blessed with humility and expression. While Saki held up her pride and "self righteousness" (as Arrika put it) in the expense of friendship - to her regret later - Zeze allowed herself to be beaten verbally and physically for retaining relationships that she valued. And so, the mage was rather relieved - although by no means irked - at the bard's unwelcome and unexpected presence.

Zeze ran up to squeeze the thief as if she wanted to turn her into fine powder of some sort, and said breathlessly,

"Arrika, by goddesses, where were you? I missed you so, so, so, so much! I have so much to tell you. Ever since that Christmas party, I haven't seen you. I've been so bored. Did I tell you what happened to Laido and Masakazu? Dear, you haven't seen them in such, such, such a long time. Oh, and they have a new shop now..."

She didn't seem to notice Arrika's aura of hostility, and only briefly remarked on the thief's new "fabulous" hairstyle, which she had to admit made her look "modern" and "chic." Sakiko merely watched with the feeling that her mouth was going to dry out; whether from the dust or disbelief she always felt when she was around Zeze, she had no clue.

Ooc: I was afraid of a stalemate. -__-"

OoC: Jesu, I was too. I felt extremely panicked while I was typing, as if we were sealing our fates in awkward stone.

IC:

The thief flinched at such close contact. Who in Din's name was this fool that dared touch her in such a friendly manner-?

Ah. Of course. It was... Zeze.

She gritted her teeth at the harsh chatter. She felt trapped. There seemed to be no way out of this one either, except to kill Zeze as well.

She glanced at Sakiko, and she seemed to be having a similar reaction. She managed to worm her way out of Zeze's vice-like grip, but afterwards was at a complete loss of what to do.

So what would the old Arrika have done?

Probably laugh it off. But it had been a while since she'd done that.

"Yes, yes- instantly," she replied quickly, flustered and straightening her clothes. She hated Zeze at that moment; the idiot had ruined her resolve.

She let out a short hiss of annoyance. Asking the Tempest for help would have to wait... the entire situation had turned way too damn awkward.

The thief glanced from Zeze's optimistic, energetic face to Sakiko's cold stare. "I see I was... missed," she said, letting her voice break on the last word. Her shoulders slumped and her hand dropped from the weapons at her side, as if surrendering.

What the hell are you doing? Part of her raged.
Plan B.

"I'm crazy. What am I doing? Saki... Saki, I'm going insane..." She pulled at her hair and buried her face in her hands. "We need to go. I can't- I can't be here. I shouldn't have come back. If I stay in one place too long, he'll- he'll find me, he's after me-" she rambled and stumbled towards the mage. "You've got to help me, Saki. I don't want- I don't want to die, help me, I don't know what I am anymore-"

On the inside, she realized that it was not entirely an act. During her isolation she had built up walls. But now they were cracking and if she didn't hold onto her purpose, she would break down again. And then he would have her.

OoC: I honestly felt super awkward writing that.

Ooc: It's ok... I felt awkward reading it too.... ^__^"

IC:

Sakiko quietly watched Arrika's transformation, a bit relieved. Yes; this was how the old Arrika would act. Although most of their bickering ended unresolved, the ones that did manage to end concluded with Arrika acting confused and apologetic. Even though Sakiko and Arrika were about the same age, the mage felt that Arrika was almost like a child. Her big, black eyes - although they were hardly that color anymore - had wanted of cynicism and wariness. Albeit obscurely and indirectly, Arrika's petite figure made her look innocent and helpless - which was hardly the case, then or now. Maybe that's just part of her disguise....

Just a few minutes earlier, Sakiko had bitterly accused the thief of being merciless, mercenary, and selfish. The mage always resorted to these insults as her last resort, because she knew that was what Arrika despised; even though the Sheikah prided herself in her skills of agility and stealth, her past had pointed her to the direction of thievery and trickery. Even though her friend had never mentioned it, Sakiko was certain that Arrika would have liked, at least for a day, to live a life of honest wealth and trust.

Trust; yes, that had always been the barrier between the two. Although she had resolved not to talk about it, she remembered the first betrayal so clearly. It was cut into her mind, as if it had happened yesterday. It was a scar, forever etched onto the woven tapestry of their wobbly yet paradoxically, steady, friendship. It was then that Sakiko had realized that a moment of weakness could withdraw Arrika from the life she had befriended, and succumb to the inner darkness within. (OOc: sounds like some line a monk would say in some adventure movie...-___-)

But despite all that, Sakiko truly, sincerely, cared for Arrika. Her outer shell didn't allow her to express it as much as she should have, but she did. And how could she forget that the thief had readily sacrificed her safety for her life? Had it not been for her, the mage may as well be good as dead. And it was the same for Arrika as well; it seemed as though they survived on each other, by sheer luck, if anything.

While Sakiko dwelled on these fleeting thoughts, Zeze had burst into tears. She looked like a monster, her tattooed face turning red from her weeping. Petting Arrika gently, she sobbed,

"Oh, darling, what troubles did you go through alone? What friends are we, just sitting here lazily while you faced all these...heartaches by yourself? Help you? Of course we'd help you! Just tell us the offender, dearie, we'll gettim."

The mage felt unsure about that rash promise. Whoever the enemy may be, she was certain he or she was powerful enough, and personal enough to have wreaked so many damage onto Arrika. She was an experienced thief, and any small matter would not have left her so...what was the word?

Because she was sure she would've sounded so fake saying anything else, even if the words she spoke would've reflected truth, the mage stepped a little closer. All she could manage was a soft murmur.

"Tell me everything, Arrika."

She elongated the last word, her friend's name, as if it would drift into the air and protect them both. Sakiko had abandoned any trace of resentment in her voice, and only felt pity for the thief.

OoC: "Even though her friend had never mentioned it, Sakiko was certain that Arrika would have liked, at least for a day, to live a life of honest wealth and trust."

I feel like you're dropping me hints here. Haha. >.>

Also, our friendship tapestry must reek of curry.

IC:

The more practical demon in the back of her mind growled. She's petting you.

"Tell me everything, Arrika."

The little demon in her smiled.

"Not here." The thief reached out for the mage's hand, and tendrils of shadow emanated from her body. The shadows twisted and pulsed as if they had a life of their own, and crept up all three of their bodies, pulling them below the ground. Although the thief had come to detest magic, she was not against using her own abilities.

The shadows dropped them rather unceremoniously into a cold hallway made of stone. The thief landed gracefully on her feet, with disregard for Sakiko and Zeze, who were most likely less coordinated than she.

"Welcome to The Den," she whispered. "Hurry," she said urgently, hearing voices from other rooms, and took off down a dark passageway.

She had come here with Kobas and Rhyss countless times throughout the years- The Den was a well known, literally and figuratively underground society among the shadier crowd. Annually, it was a meeting hall for the less scrupulous citizens of Hyrule devoted to a professional life of crime. She was taking a big risk by coming here; Kobas himself could be here, and if he was, he would have sensed her right away. But if there was anything she'd learned from him, it was the advantage of unpredictability. This would be the last place he would look, because if she was noticed, word would quickly spread and reach him. The risk was enough to keep reasonably sensible people away, and because of all the precautions she had taken he would never expect her to come here.

In reality, The Den was a maze of catacombs below Hyrule Castle Town. If one knew their way around, and very few did, for that matter- they could travel through the entire town and even the castle unseen.