Question time! The last few chapters, and the next few too, are all shorter than what I typically put out; 5kish words as opposed to 8-10k. I can revise and publish the 5k a lot quicker, so that leads me to my question. Are folks happier with the shorter but more frequent updates, or should I do the longer, semi-weekly or bi-weekly posts? The shorter are definitely easier for my schedule but if you're willing feel free to let me know, either via PM or a review.
Either way, I'll likely continue these shorter, more frequent chapters for the time being since the next few are all laid out that way.
Imagine being trapped in a fugue state. Somewhere between the waking world and a dream, perpetually cast in an inescapable haze that dulled the senses. It was what Weiss imagined a comatose to be like. Were people in a coma still cognizant of the world around them? Could they hear, smell, and feel despite their bodies being unresponsive to even their most basic whims?
In fairness to Liar's Bay she had not become comatose. Her eyesight was fine - the fog did not actually touch the ground but hung above the lowest tier of the city - and though perpetually overcast a decent amount of natural light still seeped through the coverage. Torches, bonfires, and lanterns made up the rest and cast the streets in long shadows and flickering orange glows. Smoke and ash mixed with the fog above and turned a pale-gray mist darker, like slate, and almost black where soot gathered. Barring the obvious cloud hanging over her head, one which was eerily reminiscent of a dissipating Grimm, and there were plenty of other reasons to believe she was not still comatose back in the Malachite estate.
The atrocious smells convinced her of that much. If Liar's Bay's lowest districts possessed some manner of remove refuse from the streets, then it did a piss poor job of it. While some streets were better than others the pungent odor of excrement was never far from her nose. That was when Weiss could even smell anything over the sweaty, clustered frames of the residents.
The city, the hole in the ground, whatever one wanted to call it, was massive. Where homes above were stretched out between finely manicured lawns, buildings here were tightly knit, some alleys between them too narrow for even her demure stature to pass through. The fog hung over the rooftops of two-story buildings, barely passing over ones a story higher, swirling in curiously beautiful patterns. Weiss had learned quickly not to become transfixed by them when someone had attempted to lift her pouch off her belt. There was no Lien inside of it - that, she had been assured, was left with Qrow - but she had still frozen the man's feet in place as a response.
Alarmingly no one had acted out against her for that. While the thief worked to chip away at his bindings with a rusted knife the city continued on without skipping a beat, crowds parting around him. Beyond a few joking remarks or taunts people hardly paid the failed pickpocket any mind.
As it happened that would not be the first experience Weiss would have either. Half an hour had passed at best since she'd exited the lift and another man had "accidentally" bumped into her, greasy fingers grasping uselessly at her rapier. Others were beginning to take notice of her weapon too, naked as it was. Clearly of fine make and finer materials still it would no doubt fetch a pretty purse from whatever fence agreed to buy it, and so Weiss began to walk with one hand on the grip, the other ever ready to hurl a spell in rebuttal. Between her plainclothes and the fact she looked so wholly out of place even that did little to deter onlookers.
And I still have no idea where I'm going! Weiss screamed, grimacing as she made a wide berth to avoid a twisted woman selling an assortment of questionable vials. Shops had the decency to sport placards and signs which helped her navigate somewhat, although the elusive "Mare's Ass" continued to evade her.
Phallic Phylactery. Rosen's General Goods. The House of Inquisitive Marvels. Pub. A tavern simply named Pub and little larger than a four-person cottage overflowed with rowdy and drunken patrons. Weiss wasn't sure which impressed her more: the variety of stores or the audacity in which some peddled their wares.
Drugs were common. People sat along the sides of the roads and smoked a black, tarry substance that left them slumped over stairs, glassy eyed and smiling like utter idiots. One open-air shop provided odd vase-like contraptions with narrow tubes jutting out for people to latch onto like a nursing child. Weiss watched one woman do so for a brief few seconds, then grimaced as she collapsed backwards, babbling incoherently and twitching on the floor.
Nothing about this place made it seem like somewhere you would want to live and yet it was crowded, even more so than the capital. Hells, even the quarter where Faunus had been relegated to, packed along the canals and sequestered to filthy corners of Vale City, enjoyed more space than this. Cleaner too, somehow. Weiss finally found herself some refuge as she came upon a plaza, stumbling through the crowd and marching straight to the large fountain in the center. A man just finished washing his hands and face in it, smiled at her, flashed three yellow teeth, and skipped off like a girl half her age. She took one look at the yellow, mucous water inside the fountain and almost retched.
Instead of sitting on the fountain itself Weiss sat beside it, leaning forward and making certain not to touch any surface. Crowd noise, dozens of incomprehensible conversations carrying on at once, made it impossible to try and eavesdrop. Her ears twitched and she looked around for any hints for her mission. Serendipity would surely take mercy on her sooner or later.
No one looked at her. Water from the fountain splashed down and tickled the back of her neck, making her yelp and draw away.
Liar's Bay was more than just a city; it was a veritable waste bin. She almost expected the sky to rain shit; how did anyone live in such a fetid place? Fanning the air did little good but she did it anyways, coughing and taking in the plaza. No inn, certainly no one that she thought would help her. A murderer? Hells, virtually everyone she had seen so far was a suspect. The drug addicts would kill for a few Lien to get their fix. The pickpockets were no better.
"I'll just have to take a leap of faith," she grumbled, shaking her head. "And hope I don't end up with a knife in my back…"
Qrow had mentioned he rarely came to this city and Weiss quickly had come to appreciate why. She gave herself a few minutes to rest her feet before rising, dusting herself off and picking any random direction to head off. Using a yellowed maple tree as a landmark she cut across the plaza and onto another road, one cluttered by a hodgepodge of rickety stalls and even sorrier looking shops. Buildings with windows smashed in used planks or sheets of cloth to cover them up. Spotty paint jobs peeled; collections of junk strewn out across tables in an effort to make an easy coin flanked them.
Weiss had suspected the Church had reached some kind of agreement with Liar's Bay to allow it to exist without any formal law. Now she was convinced the people here were too sickly, too downtrodden, to even overthrow those in power here, nevermind pose a risk to those outside the city. Sad, and just the slightest bit disgusting.
A man stumbled out of an alleyway and shuddered, head snapping down as he vomited, painting his shoes before he groaned and continued on his way.
Okay, extremely disgusting.
Weiss looked for something, anything, that would offer some help. When she started to find guards, the first she had seen since arriving, she assumed she was in the right place. While still overcrowded the streets became easier to navigate and the "common rabble" people trying to sell her hallucinogens, lifted goods, or dubious elixirs began to thin out. Even the sharp tang in the air seemed to dull, replaced by burning incense in nearly every window.
Along this street where fecal-stained roads gave way to simply soot-stained ones Weiss found an inn tucked between a shoemaker's shop and a brothel. "Gangreen Getaway" inspired little optimism by name alone but seeing two guards outside the swinging doors did. People lined up and waited to be checked by the group at the door, patted down and either allowed entry or unceremoniously thrown back into the street. Biting her lower lip Weiss fell in line behind a pair of women so heavily painted they might just as well have been sheep for all she knew, tapping her rapier nervously while keeping her eyes firmly fixed ahead.
By virtue of most people being tossed out on their asses the line moved swiftly. Within minutes Weiss found herself up next, watching as the two women attempted to flirt their way past the men at the door. The guards, and Weiss was beginning to think she was being generous, calling them that, took their time in patting down the duo, speaking in hushed voices, secret words betrayed by lecherous stares and greedy smiles. They were allowed in after a short exchange and Weiss took a deep breath, holding her head up and walking to the steps. She hardly made it three steps forward before signaled to halt, following the foremost man's lead and lifting her hand from her rapier.
"What business do you have here?"
"Er…" Solving a murder? Weiss suspected quite a few of those happened on a daily occurrence here. To get a drink? This was the last place she wanted to risk any of her faculties.
The harmonious cry of a lyre echoed from inside and a chorus of voices rose to meet it, laughter and off-key singing ringing loudly. A not at all unpleasant smell wafted from the interior, a mixture of lilac, honey, and what Weiss guessed was peppermint. After trudging through sewers for half an hour it was as good as a breath of fresh mountain air.
"Oi!" One of the bouncers snapped his fingers. "What're you here for, girl?"
Weiss dug into her pockets, fumbled a bit, then produced the wooden coin, tapping her foot nervously while it went inspected. They passed it between themselves and one man bit into it, grimaced, then offered it back. Weiss begrudgingly accepted and dropped it straight into her pouch.
"Third table on the left. Hannah will be with you shortly."
"Hannah?"
"You're here for Miss Malachite, aren't you…?" Technically yes. Weiss nodded, smiling. "Weapons stay on the belt or on the floor. Draw it and you're out, understand?"
"So long as everyone else inside abides by the rule I will too."
The four bouncers laughed at that, either impressed by her or amused by the small halfling's response. Probably the latter, but Weiss preferred to think she'd left a decent impression. They stepped aside and she climbed the short steps to the swinging doors, pushing them open with a squeak of the hinges.
Warm. Compared to the dreary streets the inside of Gangreen's Getaway, which was still an atrocious name, was like home. A fireplace burned away behind a gate and filled the dining room with toasty air, the smoke disappearing up a chute and no doubt spilling into the cloudy sky outside. Small round tables dotted the floor, some with a single occupant, others crowded by as many as eight people. The smell of sharp cider in the air made her nostrils sting, although still more welcome than what she'd been through, and the patrons erupted into cheer as a minstrel sat upon a stool by the fireplace finished another piece.
Weiss found her way to her table, drew back the stained oak chair, and dropped heavily into it. A small candle burned weakly on an ebbing wick and she inched closer to it, placing her hands around the container without touching it to warm up her fingers.
"Thank you, thank you, you're all too kind!" The minstrel waved his feathered cap and flashed a winning smile, rolling his cap down his arm with a flourish before dropping it on his head. "I've got time for one more song! Any requests?"
"Battle of Edea!"
"No, Concord!"
"Whaddabout -"
A palm struck flesh and one of the tables nearby erupted into laughter.
"Shuddap, Bill! We're not listening to that shit again!"
"You don't even know what I was gonna say!"
Weiss' eyebrow twitched, then her hand, and with a yelp she drew it off the candle. Shaking it out she blew on her palm and checked for burns, relieved to find none, and settled for rubbing them together instead. A few more suggestions came out that she didn't even pretend to know, eyes drifting around the room idly. A group of workers lounged by one of the windows, all standing, and each clearly deep into their cups. She spotted the painted ladies from before by the bar, flirting with the bar's attendant and owner who looked as interested in them as a Grimm and poetry.
When a waitress approached her Weiss drew her attention away from two oversized brutes in the midst of an arm-wrestling competition. At least, she was guessing this woman was a waitress. The maid outfit made it difficult to know for sure. Returning what was just a professional smile with a polite one of her own Weiss set her hands on the table, blinked, then realized she had not given a single thought as to what she might order.
Hannah, assuming this woman was the same one the bouncers had mentioned, tilted her head, wolf ears flicking atop a nest of short brown hair. "You're from Miss Malachite?"
"Um… Yes?"
Hannah looked her over and raised an eyebrow. "Huh. I thought you'd be taller. And a man." She furrowed her brow and folded her arms. "In fact, the person I was told to expect was definitely a man. Unless you're some master of disguise…"
"I can assure you I'm not a man," Weiss joked weakly. She dug the coin out again and offered it over, setting it on the table and sliding it when Hannah made no move to take it. "By any chance was Feldgrau the man you're waiting for?"
"He is, matter of fact. Should have been here earlier this morning." The waitress narrowed her eyes at Weiss. "Where did you get that token?"
"A man gave it to me. At Miss Malachite's warehouse?" More a question than a statement, Hannah nodded, and Weiss continued. "They said Feldgrau had gone to the docks to see something. That's all I know about him."
"Hm. I see."
Oh, you see? I'm glad one of us does. Weiss waited patiently while Hannah stared at her unblinking. She began to fidget, wondering just what in the world either of them were waiting for. The waitress finally blinked, and her shoulders slumped, letting out a heavy sigh.
"Right. Did you at least go and see Terrance?"
"Terrance…?"
"The Mare's Ass." Weiss shook her head. Hannah's eyes widened before she let out a groan, rubbing her face and turning away. "Right. Stay right there, I'll be back."
"Where do I…" Weiss began to ask, lifting a hand while Hannah stormed away. "Go?" Sinking back into her chair she watched Hannah disappear behind a door without so much as a glance in her direction. Still completely in the dark. Wonderful. Weiss grumbled and laid her head back with a sigh. How the hells am I supposed to solve this when no one explains anything?
Beyond being told to figure out who had been killing members of the city's upper-echelon Weiss had nothing to go on. Given the disparity between the people she now mingled with and those above she wasn't even sure she could blame anyone for killing somebody. Okay, she could, but she got where they came from to a degree.
Still, what did Miss Malachite expect her to do? She was not a detective, she had no idea how to navigate the city, and no real leads beyond a vague motive. Qrow would have been a better choice but he adamantly refused to leave his nieces alone and Weiss couldn't fault him for that. She could blame him for being no help though.
Her head rolled as the minstrel began to play again. It was a slow staccato accentuated by a flute player who had materialized out of the woodwork.
Weiss should be pursuing her investigation with more fervor than she was. Her friends' wellbeing depended on her getting results not to mention securing passage out of Vale. Somehow Miss Malachite had gotten word of their intentions and promised help to that end as well. Yet she decided she could allow herself, even if for a moment, to enjoy some simple music in a place that did not smell like a horse's rear end on a hot summer's day.
The minstrel flashed brilliant white teeth and struck a high, ringing note, the tempo of his play increasing. The other patrons of the pub must be familiar with the tune as they began to clap along, raising their pewter mugs and cheering before the man even began to sing. Weiss smiled, interested by what must be a fun tune.
"Oh Hunter, Oh Hunter,
Be ye where Grimm wander...
And where we drink,
Where men shrink,
From the beasties in the night.
For a coin they will save,
Or send you to grave,
A god's given plight."
Oh. Well that was not quite what Weiss was expecting but maybe it would turn around?
"Where they go, so they sow,
Beasts and men beware,
With a blade they shall bade,
pray or be ensare.
Like slaves we're made to row,
Where e'er this ship will go,
We do not know.
On a Hunter's whim, we learn to swim.
so he may reach the sho'."
People had begun to stomp their feet on the floor and clap raucously along with the minstrel's raising tone of voice. Weiss resisted the urge to cover both ears at the sheer volume, gritting her teeth instead and watching the minstrel leap from his stool to continue.
"Fuck the Church!" he shouted to a chorus of cheers, face split by a wide grin. The flutist danced around him, a woman with brilliant red hair tied into a high ponytail and wearing little more than a sheer gown.
"When gods are gone, I sing my song,
So we may start anew!
The age of men begins again,
So tell them all to screw!
We rule ourselves, and high on shelves,
The age of antiquity,
You might find some who still believe,
But you won't hear it from me!
Oh Hunter, Oh Hunter,
Faithful dog of the Church,
You kick and scream,
It's so obscene,
You make my stomach lurch!"
The crowd had risen to their feet, mugs raised high, rosy faces and unsteady swaying somehow not rocking the entire in from its foundation. The minstrel leapt onto his stool and struck a sharp chord.
"The age of men begins again!
The gods? They can plow my fields!
So screw the hounds,
Put 'em in the ground,
Because man will never yield!"
Weiss was certain the building was about to come down around them now. Men cheered and shouted incoherent drivel, smashing mugs against one another and hollering themselves hoarse. Now her hands pressed against her ears for all the good it did, closing her eyes and willing the whole lot of them to suddenly go mute. It didn't work, she lacked the magic for such a feat, and the obnoxiousness continued unabated. She vaguely heard the man behind the bar shouting to settle down, but he went ignored, likely unheard under it all.
Annoyed, Weiss opened her eyes again and glared at the minstrel who, to her shock, was staring back at her with a smile. He tipped his cap and winked, lyre clutched to his chest while the flutist stood beside him, twirling her instrument with a knowing smirk. Only then did Hannah emerge from the door she'd disappeared behind, marching straight over with a cross looking man in a tabard behind her. The same man Weiss had seen leaving the manor earlier that morning. She rose from her chair and went for her weapon seeing the armored man gripping his own, pausing when she realized his eyes were locked not on her but the minstrel. Hannah rounded the table and grabbed her wrist, leaning in.
"Cover your neck and follow me," she said, tugging Weiss along. Doing as she was told Weiss placed her palm over her mark and gave the minstrel one more look, trying and failing to pick his or the woman's face out from memory. The crowd continued to cheer, and the armored man opened the door for them, barking something that went unheard but sounded an awful lot like a curse before slamming it shut behind them.
/+/+/+/+/+/
Weiss recoiled as a sword was buried into and then through a wooden table. She was used to seeing irate gamblers pull the same stunt with a knife or dagger, but a sword? That seemed excessive, not to mention an easy way to ruin what was likely a very fine blade. Not that she said anything to the man looming over her. Instead she recoiled back into her chair a bit, her own weapon feeling like a toothpick compared to the broadsword, appalled at her own startled reflection in the fine steel.
"I'll ask you again," Hannah said calmly, far more composed than the man with her. "Where did you get that coin?"
Was calling it a coin really fitting? After all it was only a piece of wood with some roughshod engravings. No monetary value to speak of and evidently only good for getting into places Miss Malachite had ties to. Or, as Weiss' current situation could attest, getting oneself into some serious trouble.
Testing her words carefully Weiss pursed her lips, inhaling through her nose and letting her annoyance go with a measured sigh. "For the last time I was given it by a man at the warehouse. I think his name was Bronze?"
"Brawnz," Hannah corrected, although Weiss didn't get the difference. "And you said May was with him?"
"If that's the girl's name then yes, May was with him."
"And they just gave it to you without so much as an ask?"
Weiss shrugged. It had seemed easy to get a token but why would she question it? She had just assumed that they had been told she was coming beforehand and knew to expect her. Naturally, that begged the question of why it was an issue in the first place.
"Well, I suppose it doesn't matter much. We just need to be careful with everything going on." Hannah folded her hands on the table and smiled, nodding for the man to draw his sword free. The whole piece went up with it and came down with a thud, wood splintering. "You know we're going to have to dock your pay for ruining the table, right?"
"Hm," the man answered gruffly before slinking off to rest against the wall, sword burying itself in the floorboards instead.
"Oaf." Hannah rolled her eyes, smiling exasperatedly and turning her hands upwards. "It's difficult to find good help. Usually it's either too much brain and no brawn - those are the sorts that always try to double cross you, or the other way around." Her eyes slid to the corners. "Guess which sort he is?"
"I'm right here, you know."
"That's the point, Gustav!"
Weiss drummed her fingers on her thigh and tilted her head. Shadows danced as the lantern above them swung idly, the sounds of the busy tavern just outside the door muted. Inside this room, what looked to be a storage room judging by the myriad of shelves and containers, there was only one way out or in. Unless she fancied trying to force her way free she was left to contend with whatever this mess was.
"So, if you don't mind my asking, what exactly are we trying to accomplish here?" Weiss put on her best smile and clasped her hands together. "Because I'm supposed to be helping your employer and instead you have me sit inside a dingy room to be interrogated." Dropping all formalities, she laid her hands on the table and frowned. "May I go now? You're wasting my time. Time I should be spending helping your employer. And my friends."
"Like I said, we're just being careful. The lady asks me to keep an eye on things around here," Hannah explained. "There's an awful lot you can learn from working inside an inn, you know."
"And there are people who excel at wasting your time in them as well," Weiss retorted.
"Cute. Fine, let's settle it then. I checked with them and from the sounds of it they were already deep into their cups, so no surprise they might have forgotten. But, assuming you are who you say you are -"
"I'm the Queen of Mistral," Weiss quipped dryly.
"Then you can verify it yourself. Perform some magic with your letters."
"They're called runes."
"Whatever they're called, do it. Weiss Schnee is capable of creating runes; if you're an illusionist then you can't copy that. So…" Hannah leaned back and smiled, waving for Weiss to start. "Anything will do. Just try not to set the room on fire."
Not that Weiss had considered it. Okay, maybe she had considered it just a little bit. "Fine." A simple task and one she tackled readily, weaving a simple air rune in the air and releasing it. Hannah's hair ruffled in the breeze and Weiss folded her arms, raising an eyebrow expectantly. "Satisfied."
"Mhm. Looks like you are who you say you are."
"Care to explain that, exactly?" Weiss asked. "From the sounds of things, you have someone impersonating people."
Hannah tapped the side of her nose and nodded. "We've had reports of our own people killing someone, but then we've also had dozens of people corroborating alibis. Same thing for other families; people are claiming members of other families have been spotted at the scene of murders, but they all have alibis too."
"In other words, there's an illusionist at work," Weiss surmised.
"Fucking magi," Gustav growled, spitting on the floor. "All this underhanded nonsense. Bunch of cowards."
"Those magi are the ones keeping most of you alive," Weiss shot back. "You're welcome, by the way."
Hannah laughed. "I like you, but maybe keep that to yourself? I don't know if you noticed," she nodded to the door. "But most people in this city don't care for the Church or its Hunters. And you missy are one of them."
"Technically I'm not. I'm in the process of leaving, actually."
"Oh? So you're a rogue then?"
"In a manner of speaking, yes."
"I see. Well, I suppose it doesn't matter what you are; I would still suggest you keep your mark covered. That tunic isn't doing you many favors either." Hannah tapped her chin. "I've got something you can use. I'll get it before you leave. Before you do though let's figure out your next move. Do you know Feldgrau at all?" Weiss shook her head. "Okay. Head down to the docks, find our warehouse down there. The man who runs things there, Isaac, can point you in the right direction. Assuming he's seen Feld at all."
"And if he hasn't?" Weiss asked.
"Then one of our foremen is dead and we need to hire someone else," Hannah said with a shrug. "A pain, but nothing I need to worry about. If Isaac hasn't seen him either then it's a safe bet someone got to old Feld, in which case I'd suggest trying one of the other families. They won't talk to any of us, obviously, but you might be able to meet with one of them."
Eyeing the token still on the table Weiss frowned. "And that…?"
"Keep it hidden. You might be an outsider but that's just going to bring you trouble. Tell them you're from the Church."
"I thought you said to keep that a secret?"
"From the masses, sure. None of the families here are going to kill a Hunter since it'd mean having the Church come down on them. We mind our own business and they mind theirs."
Weiss nodded slowly. "I show up as a third party then. Try and see what other families might know."
"And work from there. We're all pretty convinced there's an illusionist pulling this off, or maybe a few of them. A lot of smaller families in the city would love to turn things on their head, see us at the top wipe each other out. Framing each other for murders is a pretty good way of doing that." Someone banged heavily on the door and a frustrated, growly voice came through calling for Hannah. "Keep your britches on, I'm almost done!" Heavy footsteps droned away and the waitress smiled exasperatedly. "The worst part of this gig is actually having to serve those idiots out there."
"My heart weeps for you," Gustav drawled.
Weiss rolled her eyes and pushed her chair back, pocketing the token. If there was nothing more to be said, then she would prefer to be on her way. "I assume we're finished here…?"
"I think so. Sorry for the little interrogation, Weiss, but better safe than sorry. Think you can find your way to the docks?"
Head down and towards the water. Yes, Weiss was confident she could manage. She nodded, blinking as Gustav opened the door and bright light flooded the small space. Not that she was keen to step back out into the noise, not with that minstrel and his companion knowing who she might be, but duty beckoned. Hannah rose first and held a finger up for her to wait before disappearing from the room, returning shortly after with a folded scarf in her hands.
"Someone left it here a while ago. Fancied it, but don't have much use for a scarf in a place like this," the waitress held it out for Weiss. "Might look a bit odd wearing it but it'll hide your mark."
"Thank you." Weiss unfurled the garment and inspected it, took one sniff, then decided it was passable. Comfortable too she found as she wrapped it around her neck, tucking one end through the loops and leaving it loose. Not too itchy, not too long.
"You look like a street walker."
Gustav's comment almost earned him a frozen mouth then and there. Weiss refrained, barely, settling for a glare and huff. "One last thing before I go, if you don't mind."
"Oh, now you have time to chat?"
"You're more than a waitress, clearly. Do you have a name besides Hannah I should know about? For when I go and tell Miss Malachite what a help you were."
The waitress hummed thoughtfully, then leaned forward and winked at Weiss. "Hannah works nicely, I think. Easier that way."
The answer is yes then. Lovely. Weiss would rather have left with the vague notion of being lied to than a blatant one. When the barman called for Hannah again, she hurried off, leaving a cross Gustav looming by the door, hard eyes set on Weiss. I wish I could say it's been a good time, sir, but I can't wait to never see you again.
She lingered by the door for a moment to try and spot the minstrel among the crowd. If he was still here, then he'd taken to a private room away from the public eye. Weiss rolled her tongue and considered asking Hannah about the man, something she ought to have done in hindsight, yet the woman was already busy running trays of drink between tables. Sighing, Weiss pushed the double doors open, stepping aside to let a trio of men hurry past her, excusing herself from the guards and leaping back onto the street. Immediately noticing the lack of fresh, or at least more pleasantly scented air, Weiss took a page from Blake's book and pulled the scarf up to cover her nose and mouth. Standing on the side of the street she looked down towards where she assumed the docks would be, groaning and letting her shoulders sag.
Back through the smelly streets and no doubt into even more undesirable places. Kicking a small scrap of wood down the road she trudged along, looking forward to her investigation like a honeybee to winter.
Anyone want to visit Liar's Bay yet? I hear the fog is especially lovely this time of year. It has a certain ne ne sais quoi that I've come to enjoy writing, uh-oh stinkies and all.