Avante

Her wrists were still scabby from their run-in with the law, and Vyvian could feel the sting of salt-wounds against new skin. It wasn’t pleasant, though it helped her stay awake. Dead hour loomed long and large as the moonlight shadows and the air was sticky with heat. It muffled her steps on the footpath reducing them to dull clacks that blended in with the clacking of nuts and shells in the closed market stalls. You’d be lucky to pick her out. You’d be lucky to pick anyone out in this hot, sticky mist. The damp made her brown hair frizz and fly free of its loose bun, stray strands sticking to her neck and forehead in a mixture of sweat and water, salty like everything else. This was hell. It had to be.

They’d arrived on the coast of Salva in the blissful pre-dawn hours, using the precious cool hours of morning to moor the ship in the harbour and scuttle away to find cool havens for the night. Vyvian had slept and bathed and now, not five minutes outside, she felt like doing it again. Her clothing was simply not suited for this sort of situation; the only skin showing was her face, hands and shoulders, with long, billowing sleeves covering her arms and a long skirt her legs. If that wasn’t enough she was doubly encased. Stockings wrapped their way around her legs and bindings her chest, held down even further by a tightly strung corset. She could feel sweat oozing down her back, soaking the material and rubbing. Tomorrow she’d have more than her wrists to worry about. Tonight, they had a jail-break to run.

The Avante Prison had been built two-hundred years ago and had been designed to intimidate more than it had been to hold. It was sister to the more northern Hellina prison complex yet lacked the sophistication or isolation of its elder sibling. Both buildings had been crafted from large, roughly hewn slabs of rock in depressing shades of gray, ornamented with hefty black bars and intimating, spike-adorned doors. Brightly coloured flags fluttered from the highest towers, reserved especially for the most deadly, dangerous criminals caught. That wasn’t where they were going tonight. Vyvian still had nightmares about the last time she’d been in one of those towers, even though Hellina was a months sailing from here. No. Tonight they’d stay on the bottom floor.

The stone arch was rough and warm behind her back, moss growing liberally and eating away at the mortar. It was Avante’s downfall. The heat and the damp, along with vicious southern winds lashing at the sea-bound side of the prison, made the outer walls brittle and let vicious shafts of air eat away at the inner walls. Another hundred or so years and the entire building would collapse into the sea, taking whoever was locked inside with it. It wouldn’t be tonight yet the thought made Vyvian shiver. Her history book snapped shut and was slid inside her satchel. You’d have thought the architects would have done their research before building the place. Typical Argonian thought, to build the biggest, most impressive structure they could without thinking about the land they’re constructing on. The guards, wrapped in gold and green broadcloth and topped with ridiculous little black hats, standardised uniform no matter where you were stationed, lounged sweating by their posts. The routine checks weren’t due for a month, they would slack while they could. Mid-check time no-one patrolled the grounds and it was this they were counting on.

A shadow moved and Vyvian’s hand went to her blade until a familiar shock of red hair caught her eye. She relaxed, motioning for Dominic to fall in line.

“Anything?”

“The same as last night and the night before. They’re not moving.” Another glance revealed that a game of jacks had started up, with shots of some sickly sweet liquor being the betting cards. Gambling for money was illegal on duty, but liquor? That had to be breaking some code of conduct, surely.

“That’s Sureshot, local stuff. Half of them’ll be knocked out in an hour.” Yes, Dominic would know.

That was more than a few rules they were breaking right then.

“So we should give it a little more time.” Came the decision. A fog-watch, slick with condensation, was tugged free and snapped open. The hands were tiny and difficult to make out in the moonlight but it was enough. “Another half hour. Tell the others.”

A sharp nod was Dominic’s only reply as, grudgingly plonking a round, local hat on his head to hide his hair, the battered pirate slipped off into the mist. Vyvian was alone again at the side entrance of Avante prison, right by the gallows. Dead hours, gallows, misty night. It was a good thing Captain Vyvian Lee didn’t believe in ghosts.

It wasn’t a silent night. Stalls creaked and groaned in the shifting air pressure and various bugs chirped and fluttered around the spluttering oil torch nearby. It was a sickly bloom of light that lapped towards Vyvian’s feet every so often, threatening to expose her toes to the world. Muted laughter wafted through the arch mingling with the scent of cheap liquor, heavy in the already oppressive heat. Ten minutes passed and her sleeves were rolled up to her elbows. Twenty and she’d chosen to squat, her back against the wall and her light grey eyes watching bugs fly into the flame, sizzling before their burnt bodies fell to the ground without a sound. It was the eyes Dominic noticed first when he returned, and he darted a falling moth to crouch down next to his captain.

“They’re ready to go.”

“And go we shall.” There were no cracks as Vyvian straightened up, the heat keeping her joints moist if not her muscles, and she shook her legs out for a few moments as Dominic peeked around the corner. A soft chuckle escaped into the night.

“Tipsy at least.” He said lowly, pulling back to give her a grin. “Play this right and we can get ‘em all with none of ‘em fighting back. Fast and quick.”

“It’s hardly a fair fight.” Vyvian muttered.

“They don’t play fair, Capt’n.”

And it was true. They’d ambushed them and taken their smallest, their easiest, to try and use them against the crew. The State of Argonia didn’t play fair and it would be simpler, easier to retaliate in kind. She’d do her best not to think not to think of their families.

“Now.” As if they’d planned it, Vyvian and Dominic slipped inside and divided to hug opposite walls of the courtyard. Safe from spirits beneath their oil lamp, the four guards rolled another round, completely unaware of the two shadows just waiting until the die stopped rolling. Snake eyes. Dominic’s first blade slid through one guard’s neck and feeding off momentum he took a slice at a second, cutting to the bone in a deep hit to the shoulder. A sabre offered Vyvian a little less flexibility in style and far less strength, so wrapping the blade across her victim’s neck like one might use a garrotte and sliding seemed the best, and quickest alternative. She could feel the flesh parting for the unforgiving metal, blood spurting, then oozing from the wound as she pulled the entire length across the gash. She winced as the liquid splattered from the tip, the blade finally sliding free of the flesh and coming to hang by her side. There was just a soul guard left now, the one with the wound to the shoulder. On his rear and scrambling back in the dirt, quiet whimpers bubbling forth and dribbling slightly in fear, the man looked less an Argonian soldier and more like a kicked dog. Vyvian snorted quietly, a sharp exhalation from her nose. If she’d been the more reluctant party earlier, that had all changed now.

“Oh, stand up already.” She ordered, her educated tone making the man scramble to his feet. Blood soaked his uniform around his wound, gluing the rough material to his skin. Vyvian could already see the bugs hovering around the weak spot. She could see the dirt staining his pants and wedged beneath his nails. Her nose wrinkled in disgust. “I’d call you a disgrace to the service, but you’ve been most helpful. My thanks.”

It was a quick, practised movement that sent her blade slashing though the air. The soldier crumpled, his knees giving way and his body falling horizontally until the legs pushed it otherwise, sending him to finally rest on his back, eyes glazed and a vivid red gash marking where Vyvian had severed his windpipe. A quiet sigh and she pulled a handkerchief out of no-where, running it across the blade to clean it. It was bad luck to put away a sullied blade but more importantly it also tarnished that way. Not on her watch. Her blade clean and away, Vyvian slid through the door Dominic held open for her. Natural light shone on the stone floor, a slither that abruptly died as the red-head let the heavy door slide shut behind them, leaving them at the mercy of flickering torchlight. There was one window in this corridor and it faced away from the moon, leaving the narrow room oppressively dark and damp. Moisture condensed on the walls and gathered between the stones on the floor, moss lined the corners and it felt like one had just stumbled into the sewer system, right down to the rats that skittered up and down past them without a care in the world. You could hear them chewing away at something within one of the cells they passed and, judging by the low, pained moan, Vyvian decided she really didn’t want to know what and resisted the urge to peek through the bars. Hell on earth indeed.

Salva was not a large island and even with prisoners being imported to fill up the Avante’s cells, only half the prison was ever in use. Argonia’s domination of the southern islands had not gone to plan, only half of them falling under the control, and the jail’s importance cut, as you might have guessed, in half. It made their job easier; the drafty end of the prison would not be searched unless it had to be.

Avante may not have been particularly high security but it was certainly depressing. Vyvian made a habit of avoiding prison but from limited experience, this was the worst. At least in Hellina they cleaned up the blood. There were no hands grabbing at them when they passed, no-one calling out. They might as well have been walking through a post-war battlefield, dead and wounded at their feet. The smell matched. Holding her arm under her nose to prevent herself being sick, Vyvian hurried after Dominic as he checked the next corridors, giving the all clear. No patrols. Being stationed in here would be a cruel and unusual punishment. It was as if they’d reappeared at the entrance of the last corridor except for one small factor. A thin, boyish voice was doing a fair attempt at soprano yodelling at the far end of the corridor.

“Niiiiiiiiiinty-niiiiiiiine pieces of gum on the waaaaaaall, Niiiiiiiiiinty-niiiiiiiine pieces of gum! Come on guuuuys, I need another candy! I need one for each number!”

They’d found what they were looking for. A smile stretched Vyvian’s lips as she pushed past Dominic, walking straight up to the offending cell. There sat a small boy, no older than ten, flat on his back on the grungy prison bed, his thin little legs swinging back and forth in time to his off-key singing. She would have leant against the bars to just watch and smile in that maternal manner she had, but those bars were filthy.

“I think that’s enough, Felix.” She said quietly, chuckling as a huge grin broke out on the boy’s face and he scampered over, sticky hands pawing all over the bars. She could almost see the germs being spread around.

“Mummy!” If one melted sugar down into syrup and drank it, you might have come close to the amount of glee Felix managed to produce on an hourly basis. His chocolate brown eyes were bright in the dim lighting, his usually wayward, auburn hair spiked from rolling around on bed. A smear of grease decorated his nose. The boy was definitely being bathed before bed-time.

“I totally knew you’d find me, Mummy! I told the guards when they brought me here but they were all GRAH! And I was all, Nyah! Mummy’s going to find you and kick your butts! But they totally didn’t listen and, and, and – “ The boy stopped to breath, bringing a filthy, oversized sleeve up to wipe at his face. “And you totally came! I knew you would and I was right, I was right, huh, Mummy? You kicked their butts!”

“Yes, and Dominic helped me.” Butt-kicking wouldn’t have been the way Vyvian would have put it but she found it difficult to deny the boy much.

“Yay, Dom-Dom!” By this stage, ‘Dom-Dom’ had melted away the lock on the door and Felix, still clinging to it, swung out before leaping out and clinging to Vyvian’s legs in a hug. The boy’s face hidden in her skirts, Vyvian didn’t hide the wince as she patted his head. Gods he was filthy. Still, the grin that shone up at her was worth it. “Are we going home now, Mummy?”

“We certainly are.”

“Yaaaaay!” Arms outstretched like an bird, Felix ran a circle around his rescuers before he latched onto the bars of a cell two down, peering through the bars. “Goodbye Mr. Meanie-poopy-Grr-I-Don't-Like-Things man! Mummy came to get me, I tooooold you she would!”

"It's about time you left. Go get diabetes or something.”

Vyvian had been walking past, about to tug Felix away from harassing whichever poor sod was stuck in there, when she stopped dead. The bitter tone, the grouchy note; she knew that voice. Strange that she’d only spoke a few times with him but the sound had stuck quite firmly in her mind. She swallowed. It had been a while.

Half a year, at least. Their positions had been reversed and she’d been the one slumped in chains, a bruise marring her face and feeling worse for wear. He hadn’t been here that long, that much was obvious from the still vivid bruising and the still reddish bloodstains on his shirt. Long enough that his high-collared vest had been ripped open and the shirt had lost a few buttons, exposing pale, sun-deprived skin to the world. One would think he was asleep, head tilted back against the wall and eyes closed calmly like that, had he not spoken two second earlier.

“Dominic, take Felix ahead.” The Captain said lowly, tugging the child away from the bars and giving him a hankie to wipe his hands on.

“Capt’n…”

“Alright, you can wait by the door in case something happens, if it makes you feel better. I won’t be long.”

Looking uneasy, Dominic slowly, reluctantly nodded, taking a firm hold of Felix’s shoulder and steering the protesting child away. She watched until they rounded the corner, letting her smile drop as soon as their footfalls began to fade.

“Lamont didn’t come for you, huh.” Not the most sympathetic way to greet someone, but he wouldn’t want to be pity. “It’s been a little while, Virgil.”

“So the brat’s yours, huh.” If anything, Virgil sounded somewhat cheated. Vyvian couldn’t quite figure out why until, wait, Felix.

“Adopted but yes, mine.”

The almost palpable tension that had built up between them suddenly vanished, and Virgil’s ember eyes slid open to rest on her. Vyvian fidgeted a little under the stare. “So you weren’t lying back then.”

Back then she’d been shackled to the inner hull of a bounty-hunting ship, sporting a cut tongue and a black eye. She’d never lost a battle before, not since she’d taken command of the Anna-Louise and she’d been ill-prepared for what ‘caught’ really meant. Pain, darkness and death. She’d been damn lucky to avoid the last one but despite the unfortunate experience she hadn’t come away with nothing. Virgil had been around in his own awkward, cranky way, and a nod and a smile seemed to make his day, as far as she’d been able to tell in the gloom. It was even darker now.

“I’m somewhat insulted you even entertained the idea.”

“Kinda hard not too when some kid starts screaming ‘Mummy’ at the top of his lungs. Why the hell’d you pick him up?”

“It was a whim.” She’d seen him, legs swinging and watching the sky, and had to have him. It wasn’t something she regretted. “He’s a sweet thing.”

Virgil snorted. “Literally.”

“I’m pretty sure Felix isn’t what you want to talk about.” The night’s haze was trapping the heat in like a sauna, and Vyvian wiped at her brow with her forearm. She could almost imagine herself dripping from the fingertips, droplets of sweat falling only to ripple against the slimy floor. “How long?”

“Two days.”

“Gods. Bad?”

“Could be worse.”

She doubted it. It was unlikely Virgil could see more than her silhouette in this light but Vyvian’s brow had wrinkled, a finger finding her chin and tapping against it slowly. It wasn’t a difficult decision she had to make, more the consequences afterwards she had to worry about. What would she do with him? A pirate ship was no place for him, even if he agreed to it, and she had no idea if Lamont, his captain, was docked here. Unlikely. What on earth had Virgil done to get stuck in here of all places…

“Capt’n!” Dominic’s voice was barely audible, so muffled was the echoed by moss and lax bodies. She’d run out of time. A short, sharp sigh was her only response before she reached up into her hair and tugged loose one of the long, thin pins holding the messy concoction up. A few locks gave way, sticking to her damp shirt as she worked the lock pins. One. Two. Three. Easy, just impossible from the inside. The door groaned open and she walked in, looking down at him. He was sprawled on the floor – the bed was obviously too grungy for his tastes, too – legs in front of him and back slumped, looking back up at her with a mixture of apprehension and a sulky pout on his lips. Gods, did he want rescuing or not?

“Come.” She said quickly, holding her hand out. One of his dark eyebrows rose, almost obscured by the shadows and his own, messy hair, as if in challenge. Hearing Dominic call out again, Vyvian’s eyes narrowed and hardened. “I said come on!”

This time she didn’t give him a choice. Reaching down in a smooth, almost arch-like movement, she took hold of his wrist tightly and yanked him to his feet, keeping her grip tight as she almost dragged him out of the cell and down the corridor. They didn’t make it.

((Right here is where I’d leave it if I was horrible and didn’t want to give you an ending. Don’t worry, I’m not. Aren’t I nice?))

A collision seemed eminent as they rounded the corner just as the patrols did. Who the hell set them off, Vyvian had to wonder as she pulled free her sabre, faster than the first guard, and made a quick, defensive slash to the face. Unlike earlier this attack was not precise and while hitting his mark, did very little except send the man wheeling back in agony, his right eye now hanging in tatters and blood streaming down his face. Horrible, really, Vyvian thought as she used the distraction to pull one of her boot daggers free, handing it backwards to Virgil and praying that he wouldn’t use this opportunity to stab her in the back. A clammy, gritty hand took it from her own and she waited. In front or behind? In front, and she hit her mark with a quick jab to the chest. Into the lung and out, he’d be dead soon. Behind her she heard the tell-tale, wet thud of a body hitting the ground and turned to see Virgil tugging her knife out of the fourth guard’s chest, his boot against the ribs as the blade slid free with a slurp. She wiped down her sword and he slit the first guard’s throat, putting the poor thing out of his misery as he lay there, twitching on the floor.

“We should go.”

This time there was no defiance from him at all as she led them off, him following a pace behind like a shadow. The door to the prison squelched shut behind them, like a stone hitting a mossy bank, and Vyvian paused a moment to stretch under the stars, the older bodies lying at her feet. If you ignored the heat and the sweet stench of decay, it was a gorgeous night.

“Capt’n, we’ve gotta go.” Came Dominic’s hiss from across the courtyard. He was right; if the men inside had called for back-up…

“We’ll do just that. Let’s move.” She wouldn’t run but her pace was brisk as she walked after the happily skipping Felix and the stalking figure of Dominic. It was only after she’d reached the outside that she realised Virgil wasn’t following them, trailing far behind like a lost soul who’d just missed the ride to hell. She stopped, framed by the archway and its flickering torches.

“Aren’t you coming?”

He shrugged, grumbling something under his breath. It was impossible to work out from this distance, and all he’d see was her shaking her head.

“We’ll give you a lift to the Sword and Cup. Come on.” She wouldn’t ask again, and he knew it. With another shrug he trotted up to her, brushing past her to follow the other two towards the docks. A few steps along he stopped abruptly, hesitant. Vyvian wondered if he was having second thoughts when slowly he held out the hilt of her knife, waiting for her to take it.

“I cleaned it.”

The blade was one of a twin, the other being strapped into her other boot, and they were beautifully worked. No gems, no glitter, just two crescents of beautifully embossed metal. She smiled.

“I think you’d better hold onto it.” She led the way back to the ship.

A.N: Please read Cold Blood first, this will make more sense then!

Soooo shouldn't have written this, I really don't have the time. But I did anyway, as we can see.

Written as an attempt to break through my writer's block, I'm actually really quite happy with how this one turned out. It's the sequel to one of my other pieces, Cold Blood (See link above) and I think this one has a slightly darker feel. Or, at least, I was trying for one. More action too, actually, and from Vyvian's view rather than Virgil's.

As well as trying to break the block, I decided to use this as an exersise to improve my general decriptions of place and action...not sure if I got that one, but hey, I tried.

I officially dedicate this piece to the ever lovely Tsukiyoheii for all his patience with listening to me fangirl, bitch, and generally for his being there. Love ya, hun XD

Dominic and Lamont belong to Chelsea Rose
Felix and Virgil belong to Tsukiyohei
Vyvian is mine and mine alone.