She'd gone for a ski mask.
Heather imagined what the clerk at the store must have thought. A ragged looking woman stumbling in and buying only a ski mask in the slums?
Yeah, he definitely would be jumping to conclusions. Not that he had any reason not to.
She tied her hair back into a bun, the only style that could be covered by the ill-fitting mask. She'd picked out all clothes that looked plain, unassuming.
When Heather had looked in the mirror, she'd felt sick.
But the blonde had powered through. And now she looked at Castle Melior from across the street, sequestered within bushes. It was night, of course. Heather needed all the cover she could get.
Guards patrolled the walls. Armed with their assault rifles and all sorts of armaments, Heather had her attention divided between them and the time.
She'd only an hour to do it. The note had said the wall of the castle, so Heather interpreted that to mean the exterior wall, the grandiose stone fence to keep the commoners out.
Nonchalance was a better mask than sneaking, so Heather emerged from the bushes and started walking down the street, eyes on the guards. They patrolled formulaically, keeping a rhythm she could exploit.
With a sharp inhale, Heather snapped her head back to check the coast. Clear. Through the light from street lamps, Heather crossed the street to the wall.
Pressing herself against the stone, she paused. Had she been seen?
A minute passed with no disruption. She breathed.
And got to work.
She shook the spray can, the familiar scent of paint comforting her. Maybe it was a mild high, but Heather hardly cared right now.
She painted the Empress first. She was the less familiar figure, so Heather took the time to make her clearly recognizable. The young Sanaki looked down at where Elincia would be painted with satisfaction.
Heather switched to the visage of Elincia on her knees. She shook the white can, ready to paint the clothes of the Queen.
She'd never noticed how the white she used was such a similar shade to the white she'd seen Lucia wear when they went to the movie. Her breath caught. If Lucia ever learned she was responsible for this…
Her mind went to the picture of Elincia getting fucked in the last act of vandalism. Would you want to date someone who painted political vandalism porn of someone you considered a sister?
Heather felt sick as she continued working. When had she become this? A low life, not an artist?
"Fuck," Heather murmured as she stepped back. Elincia was finished.
Headlights flared down the road. Heather glanced at them, the light almost revealing her position. The car was coming towards her.
"Oh, fuck," Heather said, mind connecting the dots. They'd see the picture. She needed to scarper.
So she ran across the road. Voices yelled behind her, but she didn't stop. Heather dashed through the vegetation she'd hid in before and back into the untamed city. The ski mask came off, tucked in her pocket. Hair undone and free. Anything and everything she could do to look the part of the city she was in.
Heather began the walk home, breathing easier the closer she got to the slums.
It wasn't until she got to her apartment that she realized she hadn't written the words under the picture.
She was afraid to look at the news. She was afraid to see Lucia acting as a spokesperson for the Queen or the picture she drew.
Heather hadn't touched the four bags of gold she'd come home to. Four hundred thousand gold and Heather had no stomach for it. Not even her struggling mother was motivation enough for her to touch the bags.
The letter that had been on top lay discarded beside the money. It had said, 'Don't forget the words. Do this right. We know where you live.'
Her phone rang.
Mind jumping to Sothe, Heather grabbed it. "Yeah?" she answered.
"Hey," Lucia's voice came through. "You got a moment?"
"Sure, what's up?" The worries of the day began to recede.
"Have you seen the news?"
"A little."
Lucia didn't respond. Heather opened her mouth to speak when she heard it.
Crying. Sobbing. The throes of woe. It grew, escalating to Lucia's heaving breaths as she repeatedly fumbled for words, searching for something to say.
Heather's mouth remained open, no longer knowing what to say.
"Sorry," Lucia eventually managed. "It's just so fucking hard right now. The entire nation is turning against Elincia. I…I don't know what to do. I've always been the one to give her advice and help her but I just don't know what to do.
"Every time we manage to deal with one of these nightmares, another pops up. First the graffiti, then the leaked documents, the rumors, it all builds up and sets the public alight. Every damn time."
Her words caught in her throat again. She'd only seen snippets of the news. She hadn't even taken to account that there were other things influencing the public's opinion.
"I'm sorry for throwing this on you," Lucia said, already composing herself. "It's not fair to do that to you. I just needed…just needed to vent."
"Lucia, don't worry about me. Let it out. I'm here to listen," Heather said, finally finding words.
And so she did. Lucia walked through every damn hurdle Heather had inadvertently helped set up. Heather's nails dug further into her skin each second, but she ignored the blood. She ignored it as Lucia explained that someone had tried to poison Elincia. She ignored it as Lucia explained how someone had planted a bomb in her room.
She ignored it when Lucia told her about the Queen's suicide attempt.
"Do you need me to come by? I can't help with any of that PR bullshit, but I can at least be there for you." Heather hoped she'd say yes.
"Sure," Lucia mumbled, her voice going hoarse. "I'll notify the guards to let you through."
Amidst short goodbyes, Heather eyed the money. Hanging up the phone, she looked up at the ceiling.
"I'm done."
There was no response, of course. Perhaps Heather was talking to thin air. But she'd made a decision.
No more.