It was my first night off in a while, which I'd usually spend lounging in my comfortable room at The Compound, reading from delightful old books and snacking on confections from the local market. Tonight, however, was different. I'd been feeling restless lately, and desperately needed a night out. There was a ball at a local venue that night that I decided would be a perfect way to unwind.
I took my time getting dressed. I started off by strapping a number of knives and such to my limbs. I may not have been going to work, but an assassin is always prepared. I covered the weapons with a dark blue gown that complemented my much lighter blue eyes quite well. I swept my dark hair up into a formal updo, and finished the look with a set of matching silver and moonstone jewelry.
It didn't take me very long to get to the ball and I wasn't disappointed when I did. Couples in beautiful attire swirled along the dance floor, flanked by soft armchairs for resting between dances and tables piled high with drinks and edible delicacies. I spent a bit of time perusing those tables, but then I joined the fray. I danced with many strapping young gentlemen, but as soon as any of them tried to strike up a conversation I'd twirl away in search of a new one. Just as I was getting tired from the dancing and considering heading back to the sidelines for a drink, a woman across the room caught my eye. She held a glass of sparkling alcohol in one hand, and lounged lazily in a leafy green armchair, her eyes locked with mine. I bid adieu to my dancing partner, and approached her.
"Danielle Irena," I introduced myself, giving a small curtsy.
"Emilia Swan," she replied in turn, bowing her head slightly.
I took a seat next to her, and we began to converse. Time flew while we talked, but eventually it was clear that we both wanted something more out of the evening.
"Do you live nearby?" I asked her, looking deep into her grey-green eyes. She nodded, and without another word, we got up and left.
The carriage ride was tense. It was the good kind of tense, though, where all you can do is steal meaningful glances at each other when you really want to just tear each other's clothes off and ravish each other right there in the carriage, but somehow we made it. We arrived at her home, the third in a line of neat little houses near the edge of town. I didn't admire it for long, though, because then we were inside, and her soft lips were on mine.
I didn't really remember it, but at some point we climbed the stairs to her dimly lit bedroom, still kissing and pressing our clothed bodies into each other. We landed on her bed, cushioned by the unexpectedly soft blankets and pillows. I reached my hand under her skirts, raising it up higher and higher, my other hand skimming over her smooth legs. They weren't entirely smooth, though. My fingers came into contact with the familiar feel of knife sheaths strapped around her thighs. I knew what they felt like because I wore them too, and as my fingers curled around hers, the hands she had traveling up my legs landed on mine. She had a twinkle in her eyes as she said,
"Are you here to kill me, Miss Irena?"
I shook my head slowly, both concerned and excited by the prospect that this gorgeous woman I was in bed with might very well be just as dangerous as me.
"Are you a part of one of the factions?" I asked her, my fingers lightly brushing the skin of her thighs.
"No. I'm an independent contractor," she responded. "Are you a part of one of the factions?"
As I nodded, one of her hands released one of my knives and began to slide up around my waist.
