Ah, Nag Champa…of course she would be burning Nag Champa. That's my Countess' favorite herb to burn; she takes leaves of the plant with her everywhere. I should have realized that she'd be burning it here of all places.The mime paused mid-stride and more deeply inhaled from the smoke strewn air. Oh, and is that the smell of oil mixed in there?
The den wasn't very deep, and Jester didn't have to walk much farther before he was greeted by the light of a few lit torches piercing the haze of smoke. Far more numerous than the torches, dozens of incense sticks poked out from the floor close to the walls and sent up huge clouds of smoke as they burned in unison. Now that the master mime was so close to the point of origin where the smoke was coming from, he was almost overwhelmed by the powerful scent to the point of suffocation, but he used his mental powers to expunge the scented smokes from his lungs.
In the middle of the den, surrounded by candles on each side and kneeling on her knees, was a woman dressed all in black, with a trench coat making up the main piece of her ensemble, the tails of which lied on the ground behind her. She currently kept her raven black hair drawn back in a tight ponytail, so as to avoid it blocking her vision. She had put down a fine roll of cloth directly in front of her, which was currently being used as a mat for an assembly of gun parts that she precariously cleaned. She'd taken off her black gloves so as to feel the metal more efficiently, but continued to wear her usual set of bridal gauntlets. Smaller spikes lined the edges of gauntlets, with two lines running down in between each edge as a larger set adorned her knuckles. To her right, lying face-up on the ground, was a simple mask depicting a woman's face. Opposed to the master mime's own mask, this woman's was quite simple. Instead of having the appearance of being made from actual flesh it was clear that her's was formed from metal, and the majority of it had been cast in white, while the lips and eyes were shadowed in black. A simple design, yet incredibly beautiful in nature.
As he approached the kneeling woman, Jester took off the top hat he wore, as well as his own warped mask, revealing the actual pale face beneath the false. In contrast to his mask, the master mime had a highly serious countenance, with cold, piercing eyes and a humorless mouth that seemed to be naturally bent into a frown. Drawing closer to the Eldar woman, he knelt down right behind her and placed his mask and hat beside her own before gently grasping the woman's shoulders and resting his head on her right side.
"Ah, now this is why I prefer to use cutlery over guns. There's far too much upkeep that comes with shooting utensils; look at all this care you have to invest into your guns!" At this moment, a long, curved knife, with a black blade and a bone white handle, serenely floated into view before the pair. At the same time, the mime's hands moved down to the woman's side, hovering close to her flat stomach. "With this I can be sure that my prey is dead, and then I must only wipe the blood from the blade until he is ready to serve me again. For instance, what if you shoot someone in the stomach and it looks like they're dead, only to have them crawl away from the battle? Messy, messy, messy… I've missed you, my dear Countess."
The Eldar woman pulled away from the master mime to kneel on the opposite of the mat in order to stare at him.
"And I, you, Jester. If only because there is nobody else around here who's possesses the same skill as you at when it comes to getting on my nerves."
He smiled fondly. "At least when I irritate you, it serves as a reminder to us both that you're still alive."
"Sometimes I wonder if the other road would have been easier…" She said, after an exasperated sigh.
The small pieces of metal in between them began floating into the air and reassembled themselves to form the twin guns that Countess preferred to use. As the pistols came back into formation, Jester looked at the woman in front of him, who seemed to be staring off into space as he finished what she had begun. Much like the mime, Countess had a serious expression on her colorless face, and a set of black eyes which possessed such a penetrating gaze that the Jester felt as if he were being stabbed with his own daggers. Her alabaster skin was utterly flawless, giving her the appearance of an angelic being - a stark contrast to the profession she was currently engaged in, which dealt so often in meting out death. She had full, tempting lips, but what beauty she possessed was nothing but a facade that belied the cold killer within her. It was this brutal love for extermination which attracted Jester so.
When he finished putting the Countess' guns back together, the twin pistols elegantly floated toward her. Much like his own set of black and white daggers, her guns were crafted of a similar material and design. Each pistol, which possessed a barrel the length of his entire outstretched hand, was streaked with lines of ebony and ivory. Yet, when placed side-by-side, it became apparent that, despite their similar makeup, the guns were differentiated only by the color patterns they possessed, which swapped places on each gun - where one was the color of white, the other was filled in with black. In truth, they were quite beautiful to look upon, but, just as their wielder, the guns were capable of great carnage, as Jester had seen men lose entire arms to a single well-placed shot from his beloved Countess. With a dramatic air of elegance Jester placed the pistols into the hands of their owner, who gently holstered them out of sight and onto a clip located on the small of her back.
"Oh dearest, I have some good news for the troupe! I've finally convinced that human general I've been meeting with for the last several weeks to let us pass through the territory. All we have to do in return is kill off the Orks in the area, and make sure that the settlements that were attacked by the green-skins we brought are safe." Jester extended his arms out to the sides and spun once in a place. "Of course we can't let the Mon'kai know of our presence, but I'm sure you needn't be reminded by such words of wisdom."
The Countess allowed herself a chuckle, the first bit of emotion to grace her voice since the two had been together. "For all the stealth you claim to possess, it's only due to your mind-bending parlor tricks. Aren't I the one who's had to sneak up on our foes in the past, merely to save you from your own blunders?"
"How dare you bring up such tender memories unannounced! You know full-well that any such mistakes were carefully calculated on my part, and I was either biding my time for the right moment to attack, or expecting you to come bail me out! There is little I do not predict, and all that occurs is because I planned it so. My shows are always perfect! I could nigh forgive myself if I were to ever deliver such poor performances to those among my beloved audience!" Jester practically danced his way over to the Countess, and took the lady by her hands as he began to dance by the smoke-strewn torchlight in the cave. "Might I ask of my lovely lady a question of the highest import, hmm?"
The Countess looked into the eyes of her dear friend, dazzled for nearly the hundredth time at the other's ability to make her feel alive. As he hummed a nonsensical tune to give them something to dance to, the woman allowed herself to be struck by the mime's mannerisms. His apparent expressions of love and affection struck a chord with her, and she was ever amazed at his ability to play whatever role he so decided. The harlequin gentleman now holding her hands and dancing by firelight enthralled the Countess because of his extreme commitment of flexibility, and this just made him all the more interesting to her. Though, she always bore in mind that an actor as perfect as him, would ensure he came out on top, no matter the endeavor, and no matter his allies.
Allowing the Jester to rest a hand on her shoulder blade and guide her into a pleasant spin, she nodded. "You may, my Athistaur."
The detached look on Jester's face vanished as a wry grin cut across his features. "Will we be prepared to use that artifact the Chaos so kindly obliged to give us?"
