Aurelia is a Courtesan, not an Assassin. Her world is turned upside down, however, when she kills a high-ranking Senator in self defense. Given his status, and the political power his family wields, Aurelia knows she will be executed without a trial...
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Countdown: 4 Days, 6 Hours, 4 deaths
Aurelia sits at an old, scraped, bamboo table that has seen better days, a flimsy sweater wrapped around her shoulders for warmth despite the heat of the night. Kaol sits beside her, a warm, solid, presence.
She takes a large sip of spiced rum, relishes the way it burns down her throat, warming her from the inside out. Kaol's hands are wrapped around his own glass, his sea-green eyes stormy.
A sharp sigh across from her draws her attention upwards, away from the amber liquid swirling in the tumbler. "You've done it this time, Rat," Colin's gruff voice mutters.
He is the only one of the three not drinking. His are the only empty hands, where they sit at a cramped table in the kitchen of a run-down Midcity bar. It is quiet in their little corner- a sharp juxtaposition to the rowdy, howling patrons of the bar filtering through the closed door.
Aurelia doesn't bother replying. She doesn't know what to say.
After she'd called Kaol, the skies had opened up into a summer storm- the weather as unpredictable as it always is in Glascoast. She'd remained huddled in the phone booth until Kaol had arrived, his clothes soaked through, the rain running in streams over unblemished skin. She'd told him what had happened in broken, halting sentences, and he had immediately dialed Colin from a damp scrap of paper he pulled from his wallet.
Less than an hour later, they had arrived at a meeting place Colin had recommended- a mid-city bar an old, trusted friend of his had run for twenty-something years. Colin had said it would be safe there; that he came and went at least once a day and at all hours of the night, so his comings and goings would not tip anyone off.
The owner- a heavy-set, gruff older man with jolly eyes- had let them in through the back entrance to help them avoid notice, and led them up the rickety back-staircase to the room Colin had rented for her. It had quickly become apparent that 'Backstage Bar' had been given its name due to the business conducted backstage, if the moans from the room adjacent to hers were any indication.
Now she sits before Colin and Kaol, the nightmare that is her life laid bare, her third glass of rum clutched between her hands, and both men's faces bear creases of worry that match her own.
"Whatever's going on, Pelas is at the heart of it," she murmurs, softly, sliding her glance up to Colin. "You're friendly with him... Maybe..." she starts, and Colin chuckles darkly, shaking his head.
"No. Pelas lost faith in me a long, long time ago. He wouldn't trust me enough to confide in me," he replies, abruptly cutting off Aurelia's train of thought.
She frowns. "Because of the blaze?" she pries, and Colin glares at her.
"Don't you have enough mistakes of your own to focus on, Rat?" he snaps, and she winces. She snaps her mouth closed and looks away.
