She grew up in the clutches of poverty; He was raised in the lap of luxury.
She hated nobles; He couldn't be bothered with commoners.
Her heart hidden deep in thorny vines; His one burning in his sleeves.
She was the recently orphaned flower seller;...
"Oh come on, Ryuuzaki. The Farishta just confirmed there are only five humans and Abbas here," Esmeralda retorted in an annoyed voice; not missing the chance to taunt Naeem, of course.
Naeem, surprisingly enough, didn't reply with a scathing insult. Today he seemed to be satisfied with just his best glare and a particularly unflattering hand gesture that universally translates to something offending.
Esmeralda, for her part, just mirrored the hand gesture and started walking again, clicking her shoes loudly with each step that echoed into the still stubborn silence around us.
Naeem made a face at that and continued to follow her, purposely stomping his feet as loudly as possible.
Maybe I was being delusional. Maybe that creepy feeling was just my imagination. Were my dull senses truly confusing my instincts as a sword-man?
I sighed. Uncle Yazid would be so disappointed in me.
"Akira, why do you feel like you're being watched?" The midget quietly asked breaking me away from my reverie. She was looking at me with a frown. Her tired eyes looked at me with concern.
I wanted to ask her so many questions. What were those black lines on her hand? Why were they coming out of her skin? Was that your blessing? Who blessed you?
But I refrained from asking before because of the fierce glare Esmeralda aimed at me whenever I tried to get close to the midget. She seems to be thinking I am out to hurt the midget like Naeem.
Are all commoners this weary of us, nobles? Is it because they don't know enough about us?
Isolde was right. Nobles and commoners should communicate more.
"Akira? Akira?" she asked again, her frown deepening.
She looked adorable with her scrunched face and two braids and the obnoxiously yellow sweater.
Wait, what? No.
Instead of the weird thoughts, I just focused on the girl in front of me. You know, the not-cute, not-fashionable, very violent midget?
"I don't know midget. I just feel like I am being watched. I went through swordsmanship training, you know. My instincts are not usually wrong," I try my best to explain.
"Really? Then why did you trip two times that night?"
I refuse to acknowledge how much that hurt my ego.
"Can you swing swords at my pride when I am not having premonitions of mortal danger?"
"I can and the Rune Guards said they didn't find anything," Isolde said, chewing on her bottom lip.
Now she looks a bit wary too. She was eyeing our surrounding with caution.
"I know that," I sigh again.
"Maybe it's a cat or a little kid," she says, perking up as if she figured out the mystery.
"No, I got a feeling it was something bad," I say, looking around again to see if I had missed anything.
"Do you feel anything?" I ask her.
She avoids my eyes at the question.
"No," and with a short answer she looks down at her feet as if her awful looking shoes were the most fascinating thing in the world.
Something was definitely wrong with her.
"Do you think it's the intruder?" she asks in a hushed voice, following my gaze.
"I don't know, midget. I just can't shake this tingly feeling at the back my neck that someone is watching us."
"Let's quickly be on our way then. If it really is something bad, then we should move to a safer as soon as possible," the midget says in a stern voice.
Well, she was right. If there really was something watching us that could go undetected by the rune guards, then what chance do we hold against it?
So we start to walk again in silence. The sound of our footsteps echoes against the walls.
And so far, no hidden assassins or necromancers have tried murder us with their devious little plans.
It's probably nothing. It's not the first time I got confused at night anyway.
Maybe this time, my gut feeling was wrong after all.
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So when I say I want to retract my last statement about my gut being wrong, I really mean it as we run at full speed, of course.
Because what else are you supposed to do when someone aims flying knives at you while standing on top of a pile of dead bodies?
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GLOSSARY
*Harpocrates : He was the God of silence, secrets and confidentiality in the Hellenic Religion developed in the Ptolemaic Alexandria.
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