/=|= The Lost Raven =|=\

09

"The Goodness of a Gloomy Gloomy Girl"

Midnight at the Korven estate. Sir Richard Korven awoke to find himself bound and gagged to a chair. His reading chair in the study where he often fell asleep at night reading great fantasy tales (which most men of his stature wouldn't be caught dead with, but fortunately, hypocrisy is an abundant trait at such levels of success.)

"You're probably wondering what I'm doing here and how I got in," a voice said. A voice belonging to a dark and blurry silhouette standing next to the fire. A black bird perched on her head, one on her shoulder, and one on her outstretched hand. She brought the small animal close to her face, and it pecked at her nose. She giggled, nuzzled him, and set it free. The other two birds followed suit, all three finding a comfortable spot sitting atop the bookcase upon a curious volume of forgotten lore.

"That was pretty easy!" Tira continued, "First I had to creep across town, making sure no one saw me," and she tiptoed over to one of the fancy columns, then dove behind it. She poked her head out, looked around, and then crept over to the desk and again dove for cover from an invisible patrol. The hidden narrator went on, "then I got to your house, and I had to climb the wall! Easy-peasy"

The woman re-emerged, doing a handstand atop the desk, like the steady turning blades of a windmill, she rose from one side and descend down the other side ever so smoothly. Not even a soft thud as her feet touched the floor again. Then she sat on the desk matter of factly, kicking her feet to and fro as she bounced in place, "and this is when it gets interesting! Cause now! Now I'm in enemy territory! If I were caught on the street, I could pretend to be out for a walk. But not anymore! Now if I get caught, it's to the stocks with her! Give her lashes!" Tira abruptly shot up on the desk, pointing vigorously to someone who wasn't there and she deepened her voice in her best bully sheriff impression, "'Do you know what we do to pretty little girls who go sticking their nose where it doesn't belong?'"

Tira twirled and slithered off desk, hiding behind it again. Hands raised defensively to protect herself from the other role, "'No! No! Not the stocks! Anything but that!'"

She was back up on the desk completing her one woman play, "'Yes, the stocks! Grab her men! Lock her down! Have a good feel while you're at it!'"

And then Tira laughed. She hopped down from the desk, and the impish playfulness of her theatrics seamlessly drained from her demeanor. She approached her captor, Sir Richard Korven, literally melting into a whole new being. Standing in front of her helpless prisoner, she interlaced her fingers and arched them until her knuckles cracked, and the transformation was complete. Now she looked up through her brow with a sinister aura burning around her like the hypnotic tendrils of a fire. Her smile dripped with venom. "Now we play for keeps."

She leaned over the helpless noble. Under another circumstance with another woman he would have appreciated this position which gave him a great view of her cleavage. Even under the dire circumstance, for at least a split second the male impulse cannot help but look and notice a nice rack even faced with certain death. But then the second passed and he remembered where he was, he met her gaze and gulped. Tira just caressed his cheek, gently stroking his face and then she pushed her fingers through his hair. Studying him. Plotting and planning, no doubt.

Then for no apparent reason, she snapped away from him, "but let's pause and come back to that. Let's fast forward to what will happen in the very near future. You will die, and so will your estate. Oh not your three spoiled brats, though." She danced away with fluid velvety movements and snatched up the wine bottle on the little stand and tray next to his chair. "Your sons are going to wake up with blood on their hands and alcohol on their breath," and putting the bottle to her lips, she did more than sip. She threw her head back let the bitter sweet liquid drain into her mouth. Then in a sudden motion (yet still hypnotic in its choreography) she straitened up and spit it all out on Sir Richard Korven. And for a fleeting second, the playful Tira was back. "Good stuff. None for me, though! I get a little rowdy, a little crazy, when I get tipsy!" Like before, the childlike giggles faded away as she gravely and ceremonially poured the rest of the bottle over the bound man's head.

Then Tira straddled her alcohol soaked captive, and slowly and seductively traced his trapped form with her fingertips, "You see, nobody's going to know who killed you. Your three boys are going to think it was one of them. They're going to fight over their inheritance, and with you gone their fighting is going to tear what's left of this estate apart. Despite your wealth, rich bastards like you are always in debt to someone, and that someone deals with you and only you. They don't know who owes you money. All they know is, your heirs owe them money, and your heirs can't hardly collect if their necks are being stretched for murder, can they? Even if two or all three of them get off, the name will be ruined. They will be ruined. And your lifetime of work will mean," moving close, she brought her lips to his ear and whispered like a lover's secret promise, "nothing."

Then Tira sat back, grabbed his ears, and twisted them to the breaking point. He screamed through the gag, and when he started to settle down she added, "and all the people in debt to you will be set free."

Letting go Tira, got up and began pacing around the desk, "Now, you might be thinking, 'How can she know this? She's just a peasant. A filthy rat isn't that smart!' And you're absolutely right." Coming full circle around the desk, Tira got down on her knees in front of him. Playing helpless, stupid, and mocking him with her feeble pitiful looks, "Just a stupid weak worthless rat! All I know how to do is eat and sleep and make trouble for hard working real people like you. But, you know, it's a funny thing. I never would have dreamed of doing this on my own. No, I'm too stupid for that. And that," she tapped him on the nose, "is why no one is going to suspect me. A filthy rat would just kill the lot of you. A filthy rat would get caught and hanged … or beheaded," then once again, Tira perked up. She changed from malicious schemer to upbeat wandered right before his eyes, "How do you execute people in these parts? Is it hanging or beheading?" Then she shook her head, and the curious Tira was gone. Replaced by the killer. "Nevermind, that's not important. Anyway, back to my point. I'm not smart enough to come up with a scheme like this on my own … but I knew someone who was. He showed me everything he knew. And you know what? I've had a lot of practice. Best of all, since I am just a stupid peasant, even if someone figures out your kids are innocent, they won't know it's me. Not Tira! She doesn't plan, she plays!"

The noble let loose a stream of muffled threats, and Tira raised her eyebrows as though in revelation. She pressed her finger to his gagged lips, "Oh, I almost forget the biggest reason why no one will ever suspect me!" And with that she stood up, hovered over him for a minute, then strolled around the chair swaying her hips back and forth sexily. Just before she went out of view, she said over her shoulder, "Wait here!" Korven's attempts to escape hit a frenzy as he tugged so hard against his bindings that his wrists began bleeding. Had he paid attention, he'd of heard the sounds coming from his blind side behind the chair. A splash, a slap or two, and a sensual beckoning. He didn't notice. Didn't care. She was out of sight, thus out of mind, and all he could do was pull at the ropes. But then Tira reappeared, gracefully leaping up onto the desk where she spun around, licked her lips, pointed, the motioned for someone (or something) to follow. A second later, one of Korven's body guards appeared at his side, "M'Lord are you okay?"

The noble sighed. At last, that purple haired bitch was going to get it. He nodded and, through the gag commanded (mostly nodding and gibberish), his man to kill her.

"Yessir. This won't take long," he said, flexing the muscles in his hand and arms in preparation of tearing the girl limb from limb. "We're gonna hafta scrape your ass off the walls with a sponge when I get through with you."

Tira crossed her arms and shrugged.

The guard went after her and swung with an overpowered series of punches that very well could have put her through the wall. But Tira gracefully and effortlessly slithered out of the way. Her perfect figure just 'flowed' between the blows, her small hands reached up and snatched his arm out of its flight and brought his elbow crashing down against her shoulder as she turned into him. The man went to unleash a scream, and instinctively with his good hand went to cradle his ruined limb; but Tira intercepted it! With viper-like precision, she snatched the unharmed hand out of its flight path, and with all her might brought his wrist against her knee, bending it the wrong way. She held the disfigured extremity against her knee, the back of his hand was pressed securely against his forearm, and another ear shattering shriek erupted from his throat. He was at her mercy, and a satisfied smirk spread across her face as she did a wise guy double eyebrow inflection to the horrified noble who sat watching his only hope crumble.

But Tira wasn't finished destroying hope. Before his lungs got through with that howl of pain, as he tried to cradled not one but two ruined limbs, Tira launched a devastating kick with her well toned dancer's legs and smashed the broken man's groin.

All he could do was double over and gasp as he tried to get enough air to unleash a third wave of screams. Tira, almost casual in her movements, pulled the large man into a headlock, then she gingerly lead her victim over to his employer. "They'll say only a big strong powerful man could take this intimidating fellow down. No way a woman could do it." With her free hand, Tira ran her fingers through her prey's hair as she spoke, "There's no way lil' ol' Tira could snap this big man's neck. No way. Impossible." Her smile widened. And with a subtle but violent jerk, she ended the guard once and for all. The sounds of his agony came to a close with a barely audibly snap from his neck. Then he hung lifeless in her grip, and Tira just stared down, still stroking the dead man's hair in the eerie silence.

She plucked a gray hair, studied it in the candle light, then let it go. The hair gently floated down to the floor, but the corpse it belonged to dropped like a rock. "So where was I? Oh yeah," The sexy vixen then strolled around the room as though none of this was new to her, "back to the beginning of the story. After I climbed the wall, I had to kill three of your four body guards. I'm guessing they're more for show because they weren't very alert or effective. Naturally I had to be more stealthy with the first three. But I left one alive so I could give you this demonstration. Someone at the Bird of Passage, my old guild, once pointed out that 'you're a small woman, Tira. They'll walk right into your traps because they'll always think they can take you.' 'I have six inches on her. I can take her! I have a hundred pounds on her. No problem! What can a little girl do to a big man like me?' And, you know what? It's true. You just saw it! That guard could have ran and got help, but no. What did he do?" She sat on the desk once again, crossing her feet at the ankles right on top of the fallen guard's face. "He kicked my ass, didn't he?"

Then she reached over and picked up the wine bottle again, running her fingers along the smooth glass curves, "that same mentor of mine also pointed out that when it comes to grisly murders, people tend to suspect men because women can't stomach the violence. Straight violence? Maybe. But not mutilation caliber violence. And especially not a woman who faints when bopped on the head or sees three drops of blood." Standing up yet again, Tira approached Sir Richard Korven for the last time, her voice and tone darkening with every passing word. Channeling more and more anger and hatred, becoming more and more volatile despite her surface level calmness. "That peasant girl couldn't have killed them. There's no way that feeble little thing could possibly shatter this bottle over his skull, then shred his fucking face with the remaining shards until he chokes to death on his own eyeball goop."

Tira raised the wine bottle over her head, and her prophecy came true. The Korven boys would wake up with a mean hangover in a pool of booze and their father's blood. The authorities would find the evidence overwhelming against them, leaving only one question: which one did it? A question that would make the greedy three fight one another believing they could gain more inheritance by implementing their siblings which would insure the estate would crumble into chaos. The family name would never recover. And Mr Curtis, Miss Agnes, and everyone else at the Korven's mercy would be free forever.

Tira skipped home, happy as a jay bird, just before the dusk that morning and was back in bed before wakeup call. A pleasant old couple was nice to her, and even though they'd never know it, she repaid their generosity by helping them with their problem. They wouldn't understand the nature of Tira's favor. People never do. But that's okay. They didn't have to know.

As long as I do what's right in my heart and know I did the right thing, that's all that matters!

It really did feel awesome being good. Mean people really are missing out.

Writer's Note:

For this story, I imagine Tira looking like my version of her from SCIV's editor. Link to My Tira pictures located in my profile. (I would link here, but won't let me for some reason.)