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~FALLEN ANGELS~

An original story by Aira and Marcya.

CHAPTER TWO

Chrisenta stormed into Prism’s office, fuming visibly, her hands clenched into tight fists. Prism, who was seated comfortably behind her desk, regarded her with a small gracious nod before asking slowly and conversationally, “So, how was lunch with your new partner?”

Chrisenta had calmed down reasonably by the time she reached her superior’s desk but that did not stop her from grinding out her response. “Peachy.” She said, her voice laced thickly with sarcasm, “Just peachy.”

Prism shook his head in disapproval before rising from his chair and holding a palm out, twirling his long slender fingers in the air. Chrisenta did not have to look behind her when she heard the unmistakable sound of springs and tiny gears springing and moving to know the door she had just come through was now locked.

“You have to give her a chance,” Prism said, sighing as he carefully removed his mask, revealing an otherwise beautiful and youthful face of a woman if not for the three telltale scars that began from midway her left cheek and ended somewhere beneath her jawbone.  Prism was a woman.

“I just don’t need a partner.” Chrisenta breathed, “Please, just get rid of her. Transfer her to another team, to Celestia’s company, if everything else is—“

“No.” Prism cut her off and she ran a hand through her golden hair. Her voice was softer, womanly, now that there was no mask to muffle and distort it. “You need one.”

“You told me that.” Chrisenta muttered bitterly, meeting and locking gazes with her superior.

“I did.” Prism affirmed uninterestedly, “But I’ll say it again. Have you ever bothered to look through the missions you’ve been taking and your… attitude towards them?”

“Why? Is there a decrease in my overall performance, My Lord?” she questioned carefully, avoiding sounding smug when she did so. Deep down, she was worried about that. If there was one thing she valued more than anything else, it was her job. She didn’t have anything but that and she held onto it like a man to the edge of a cliff from which he hung between life and death; desperately.

“No.” Prism said and a sigh of relief escaped Chrisenta’s lips before she could make a conscious effort to stop it. Prism eyed her with glassy, unreadable blue eyes.

“You need a partner to make sure you don’t kill yourself on the job, Chrisenta.” Prism explained, “Someone who’ll remind you when to stop pushing your—“

“I don’t need one.” Chrisenta said abruptly. “I’ll be doing this job for as long as I live and that’s going to be a long time so there’s no use worrying about losing your finest to some unintentional suicide mission.”

Prism’s lips disappeared into a thin line and Chrisenta continued, “I won’t die… not just yet.”

And with that she spun on her heels and stalked away, not even bothering to stay any longer if her superior was about to say something about that. The door opened before her with a click and she stepped out, quickly putting on that mask of indifference years of practice made perfect.

The door closed behind her and Prism’s face scrunched into a soft frown. Her mouth moved, forming words in silence and then she slipped her mask back on.

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Rysta slipped her key into the keyhole and pushed open the door, entering ‘Craywell Manor’, owned by one Jessica Craywell, widowed wife of Lord Ashley Craywell. She stepped into the carpeted hallway which was lit by a glass chandelier, a smaller version of the intricate glass one that graced the already well-lit sitting room.

She walked in confident strides across the hallway, ignoring the very dominant scent of freshly baked bread wafting from the kitchen, and ran up the stairs, taking 2 steps at a time.

She walked down to the end of the second floor hallway and slid her key into the keyhole of the door to the left of the ceiling to the floor window.

She stepped into her room and dropped her backpack on the couch to the left of the door. She walked over to the window and drew open the hunter-green drapes, bought to match the bedspread. She pushed open the windows and inhaled the scent of pine.

She undid her black cloak, while sauntering over to the bathroom. Pausing at the doorway, she flung the cloak on the bed.

After a quick but relaxing shower, Rysta quickly changed into some comfy old robes and then headed downstairs to practice.

She stood in the middle of the workroom, with her back to the door, taking deep breaths to clear her mind before she started her practice session. She opened her eye and focused on the bullseye in front of her. Taking a last deep breath she said “Flamania”, swinging her right hand up to shoulder height, palm facing outward, fingers pointing to the floor, as she said the words. A ball of blue fire seemingly shot out from her the middle of her palm, hitting the center of the bullseye and staying there, the flames dancing, but never burning the piece of painted wood.

A slow smile graced Rysta’s face, and watched as if entranced by the dancing blue flames in front of her. Before she brought up both hands in front of her and moved them apart, the flames went out, and the wood remained as perfect as when she had walked into the room. But a close watcher would have seen her lips move slightly and an even closer listener would have heard her mutter the word, “finito”.

She stood there not moving her hands from either side of her, stretched out at the shoulder height. After a few seconds her eyes blanked out, she stood there to the world around seemingly dead but in reality she heard the door softly open and the footsteps that a normal person would never hear, through all this she never moved. But it was the voice that snapped her out of her stance.

“You know Rys, if you wanna fly you have to have wings and even then, you still have to flap them.”

Rysta let her hands fall to her sides and turned around to look at the guy standing behind her. He was tall with silver blonde hair that constantly fell into his slate gray eyes.

“Hey Kirean,” she said. “How are you? Fine? That’s good! I’m doing great, so nice of you to ask.”

She stopped talking and looked at him, remembering that day she’d met the guy she’d come to love like a brother.

*** A six year old Rysta stepped into the old, almost falling apart wooden house, looking warily around her and wondering what Master Lythe, as she had been instructed to call him, wanted with her. “Maybe,” she thought, “he’s one of those child-napper persons who took children from their parents and made them slaves.” Then a counter-thought came to her, “No, it can’t be, because I don’t have parents and he knows that.”  She was snapped out of her thoughts by Master Lythe’s voice saying in a kind voice:

“Rysta, this is Kieran and Shristyne.” She looked at the kids in front of her. The boy, Kieran; he looked about 8 or 9 and the girl, something-teen, Rysta couldn’t get her name properly, she looked about Rysta’s age.

Rysta gave a shy smile and said a meek “hello” to the people, whom she would soon come to love as brother and sister. ***

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Chrisenta scanned through the papers Prism gave her with an uninterested look. Deep blue eyes ran up and down the first page one last time and then she threw them on Prism’s desk.

“So, it’s a smuggling group?” Chrisenta questioned, crossing her arms across her chest. Prism nodded and took the papers in her hands.

“They basically smuggle and sell exiled elves illegally into Kryde and Numeille.” Prism paused and Chrisenta arched an eyebrow. The elven assassin’s ears twitched, sensing something about Prism.

“I’m not offended, go on.” Chrisenta said in a flat tone.

An audible sigh came from Prism. “We’ve alerted the Elven cities of Corcie, Teelin and Wein about it already but knowing it concerns exiles they probably would’nt do much about it.”

“That’s just about right.” Chrisenta breathed softly.

“We sent an ambassador to the 2nd World to inform Evon about it… but…”

“It’s not likely they’ll do anything either so His Highness passed down the order to act now, right? I see.” Chrisenta finished for her superior before turning around on her heels and beginning to walk away.

“I’ll inform my….‘partner’.” Chrisenta said ‘partner’ with a tinge of sarcasm which wasn’t lost to Prism. “I’ll pay a visit to her house… You don’t need to give me her address… I know…”

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Rysta slowed down from her fast-paced jog to a normal-paced as she emerged from the trees that almost surrounded Craywell Manor. Then she slowed down to a walk, albeit a fast one, as she neared the door. She quickly opened it and stepped inside, longing for a shower before heading back out.

As she walked down the hallway, she heard a voice calling her from the sitting room. “Lady Rysta….. Lady Rysta”. She turned around and doubled back to the sitting room. Walking in she found the last person she was expecting to see.

“Chrisenta…. How nice of you to drop by!” She smiled, hoping the elven girl did not see her falter at the doorway.  ‘With my luck’ , thought Rysta, ‘she probably saw that and more.’

Chrisenta gave her a smile, that Rysta saw for what it was, fake. “Lord Prsim has just given me the briefing.” Chrisenta paused, and looked pointedly at the woman still standing in the room.

Rysta turned to look at the cook, “Larcelle could you please give us a few moments of privacy?” The woman obediently turned and left the room, closing the door behind her. Chrisenta still did not speak. Rysta waited for a moment then prompted her, “You were saying?”

“Lord Prism gave me the briefing early this morning.” She did not look happy at having to repeat herself. ‘Well, I didn’t ask you to repeat that part…. I heard that.’ Thought Rysta. Instead she said, “ I want to know why I wasn’t there for the briefing, but we’ll leave that to be discussed later shall we. Continue.”

The look on Chrisenta’s face would have sent a braver person than Rysta running for cover. Rysta on the other hand, just stood there, even though she knew that running for cover would have been a much wiser thing to do.

Chrisenta took a deep breath, obviously trying very hard not to either kill Rysta here and now or  to walk out the door. Then she spoke in a voice one normally used with a crying two year old. “ There’s a smuggling group, and they’re smuggling slave elves illegally into Kryde and Numeille. What we have to do is stop them.”

‘Ok,’ thought Rysta ‘Smuggling group. Smuggling groups I can handle…. As long as the killing is kept to a minimum…. Smuggling groups I can handle.”

Keeping her face cool and calm she said “What do we have to do?” When Chrisenta spoke again her voice was visibly lowered, and she sounded as if she was telling the scariest part of  a horror story. “Our mission….. is to stop the smugglers…… and don’t worry you wont have to kill anyone” she smiled, a smile that reminded Rysta of  evil rulers, “yet.”

Rysta resisted the urge to give her a quick witted reply, instead saying “When do we leave?”  Chrisenta looked at the watch  and smirked. “We leave in half an hour.”

Rysta wasn’t sure whether it was her imagination or whether she could really hear evil cackling at the sound of those words.

END CHAPTER TWO.

Thanks to our reviewers.

JoeyStar – Thanks a lot… You are our first reviewer… so.. YEA!!!!!! Anyway, as for knowing what’s going on… all will be revealed in due course!!! And no, the ‘elve’ thing was not a typo, we actually use it coz we like the sound of ‘elve’ better than ‘elf’.

Ana. G – Our second reviewer (it doesn’t matter that we bullied you into it!!!). Stay tuned….

Digintegrated – Thanks and yep, its just the beginning… There’s loads more to come!!! We will keep going on!!! Hi back from me (Marcya) by the way.

Vanyar – Updating, Updating, Updating!!!!! :P

XTsukimiOdangoX -  Thank you, Thank you!! You have officially made Aira’s day!!!! And yea, I (Marcya) too think her series fics are addictive…. Even though I don’t read slash!!!

Pato San – Thanks!!! Ha Ha.. and yea.. so do we!!!!!!

Nephtali – Wow! Thanks for your review and the advice you gave!!! But like you said…. ‘The story has just begun’!

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