Emme bit her lip until it bled, rocking slowly back and forth in the sand. She imagined it swallowing her up, making her invisible, covering her like a blanket.

It had been only a day since she had walked downstairs for a midnight cup of tea, feeling optimistic at last to have an apprenticeship with the local tailor, on her way to building a new life; she had almost fainted when she saw him, impaled on his sewing needle, ripped through like a great cat had been tearing at him. Mr. Cranks had been mutilated beyond recognition, and she had not heard a thing in her attic boarding room. Frightened out of her mind, she had fled the scene, leaving her small bundle of possessions and her change of clothes.

Now she was little more than a street pauper, afraid to go back for the small amount of money she had. She felt certain that what had happened to Mr. Cranks had been her fault. Surely they had been trying to find her, and tortured him until he died without revealing her secret! Mr. Cranks...what a brave, honorable man...she felt a hot tear travel down her face, and she wiped it away angrily.

She wasn't going to start crying again. This was no place for a crybaby, she thought. This was no place for people - it might as well be a storehouse for animals. She felt grateful that Annie had not been there to see Mr. Cranks' fate, for she had been through enough; though she missed the reporter greatly, Emme was happy that Annie had managed to get out of town.

A rumble interrupted her thoughts, and she put a hand on her stomach. How long had it been since she'd eaten? Her eyes glazed over with nausea at the thought of Mr. Crank's scattered entrails, his blood pooled like thick red bile on the floor.

The sun had set, and an odd twilight came over the harbor. Another night, another passel of sailors pushing her around, suggesting horrid things and waving incentives in her face, another night spent cowering under the pilings of Haverton Pier like a wharf rat. She felt sickened by Old Rose. She had never hated a place more. But now that she was here, how could she get out?

Like a sheathed blade ready for action, Yulina cut a slim, striking figure in the coming darkness, impatiently leaning against one of the many crumbling wooden pillars that supported the pier. Ceres had been right; the poor girl had little chance of hiding in Old Rose. The slim witch was surprised at how little searching it had taken to find enough correlating sightings of Emme, and tonight was another night her and her sisters planned on seeking out some confirmation.

Hopefully, she wouldn't have to be killing another drunk sailor who asked too many questions. Not that she minded.

Glancing around in the half-light, Yulina waited for the others, scanning the crowds and the beach thoughtfully.

Rinata slid her arm through Yulina's, knowing that if the witch didn't have such sharp senses she might have killed her on the spot, but fully expecting her sister to recognize her by scent alone.

"Sand," she whispered. "So soft and silent. It is a wondrous place we live in."

Stepping closer, Mirella stretched to snuggle against Rinata, nuzzling the woman's neck sweetly. She loved twilight, and it loved her, shadows accentuating curves and soft light sparkling in her eyes.

"Oes, beatas, it's lovely." She smiled at the both of them and tossed her cinnamon-and-gold hair away from bare shoulders. "Haha, but let's move m'lovlies, night comes soon and we have distance t'cover afore we find our prey..." She paused long enough to smooth Yulina's hair in an affection gesture.

"Mirella," said Rinata softly. "Perhaps you should do the 'onors. Yulina may cut this one with a mere look." She cackled silently. "I think a gentler touch's called for 'ere."

She looked out at the small, frail woman, feeling no sympathy for her. The witch knew what it was like to be uprooted from a familiar life and landed with a new one; it wasn't easy, but it was no cause for juvenile self-pity, for causing all this trouble for the resistance. As much as she didn't like the resistance people, she knew that they were doing what they were doing for a good reason. Emme was a fool for crossing them, and she hoped for the reward's sake that she didn't resist her and her sisters; Ceres had specified unharmed, much to her dislike.

Yulina hissed as she exhaled impatiently through her teeth, but it was obvious by her scarred expression she was amused by Rinata's comment, "I'm saving my blood-lettin' for that clockin' golly if 'e doesn't tell us what we want t'ear. I ent gonna cut up a girl if it ent gonna amount to nothin'."

Tilting her head a little, she managed a wry grin at the other two witches, "Go on then, beata. That girl's obviously already scared of the dark enough as it is."

Nodding, Mirella straightened and stalked forward. She might not have been the pure violence of Rinata, or the twisted cruelty of Yulina, but she was seduction and silence. Soundlessly creeping up on the dock, she paused.

Emme wasn't like the rest of the girls she'd known. Weakness wasn't often found in Harbor ladies. If there had been anything like a conscience withing the curvy witch it floundered for a moment.

Shrugging it off she plopped down on the sand next to Emme, eyes limpid and smile beseeching. "Ello, luv. Ye look as lost as a kitten ina dogfight." She didn't look like a Brother; she looked like a whore, or at least a dancer. Nothing in her demeanor gave off the deadly potential she had.

There was no judgment in Emme's eyes as she glanced over at Mirella, only a sort of beaten acceptance. Whores walking around on the streets, thieves stealing in broad daylight - she had come to expect these things from Old Rose.

"My boss was killed yesterday," she said dully.

She wasn't sure why she was confiding in Mirella - the girl just had an air about her, like someone she could talk to, someone who wouldn't judge harshly...

"Oi, know 'ow that goes, lovey." Mirella clucked sympathetically, stepping forward to place her hands out in a friendly motion. "It's 'hard gettin' about these days." No use scaring the little nattle when things could go smooth and easy... there wasn't a thought for the tailor or his dying screams. All hint of blood-lust or anything of that sort were vanished from over-rouged cheeks and kholed eyes.

Sinking to the still warm sand, she paused a moment, trying to figure a way fro Emme to come willingly, at least for most of the way. It would be better to not arise suspicion. "S'not a nice life here. What bringsa nice-lookin' gel like you to these parts?" She radiated understanding and camaraderie, like they were just two more bits of grist for the mill. Together, the same.

Emme smiled a little; her heart wasn't in it, but it felt nice to hear a soothing voice for once, someone who wasn't yelling or shouting or trying to get her to have sex with them. She looked over and thought that perhaps she'd judged Mirella too harshly; she wasn't necessarily a prostitute. In fact, she didn't even really look like one; Emme instantly envied the put-together look on the witch's face, the confidence she held, even her beautiful hair. It was a strange moment to feel these things, but she couldn't help it.

"I needed to get out of the city," she said quietly. "Some bad people were after me. Wasn't even my fault...figured this would be a good place to go." Her voice rang with bitterness. "I just don't know what to do here."

Yulina stood with Rinata in continued impatience, cracking her knuckles and staring wistfully into the darkness as if willing the girl and her sister to return. Eager to hear what Ceres had to say, to determine the level of his knowledge by the tone in his voice, and to have further information on the Drain, the slim witch waited silently, confident in Mirella's charms.

Aha! This could be easier than she anticipated. If she drew her out of her shell enough... get her to the hands of Yulina and Rinata without a fight...

"An' ye come 'ere chip?" her voice had an incredulous timbre, but her expression remained soft. She was better than the slaughterhouse goat, in that she had always been a better will'o'th'wisp, leading astray without any promises.

Tossing her hair, she gently laid a hand on the girl's shoulder, fingers light and chaste. "Well, th'pier's no place for anyone, woman or beast. Come along, beata, I kin get us a bite t'eat and then ye can be on yer way. Mayhap give this town a better name fer ye, eh?"

Trusting, naive Emme was too tired to argue. Getting unsteadily to her feet, she nodded her unspoken thanks and allowed herself to be led. Even if she ended up stabbed in the gutter somewhere, there was no need to die on an empty stomach.

She did not notice the other two witches. Rinata nudged Yulina.

"What do you make of that, then," she whispered. "Mirie's got her wrapped around 'er finger. Stupid girl. I do 'ope we don't 'ave to kill 'er."

"Ne. We ent gonna kill 'er. For that matter, we ent gonna 'urt her. Scarin'er's fine, though." Yulina whispered wickedly, eyes narrowing to watch Emme and Mirella make their way across the beach, "It's that bastard Serro in Viender who's gonna get 'is if 'e tries to pull one over on us 'bout the Drain. That girl's worth somethin' t'im, 'is lil' revolution club 'e's got up there ..."

The slim witch cracked her knuckles for emphasis, restlessly tugging at her jacket, "I'll make every last one of 'em bleed if I 'ave to, starting with that damn golly when 'e comes t'pick up our lass 'ere."

"Doubt 'e's actually coming 'imself," said Rinata darkly. "'e's a fool, but you ain't exactly subtle about disliking 'im. 'e knows 'e couldn't take all three of us."

She noticed Mirella and Emme coming closer, and touched Yulina's shoulder gently.

"Let's make ourselves scarce," she suggested. "Mirrie's got 'er work cut out for 'er without 'aving to explain who we are."

"Pshaw, I know, Rin, but a witch can dream, eh?" The slim witch spat with frustration, knowing full well she wasn't subtle about much when it came to things she disliked. Driven by her own thirst for knowledge and loyalty of service, she was only subtle when it worked in her favor.

She stepped out of the glow of the lamps nearby and winked slyly, "An' I ent goin' anywhere ... far."

Yulina cast Ghost under her breath, crossing her arms and leaning against the weathered wood before fading slowly like the spectral spell name into the thick, salty darkness around the dock. Her wicked smile was the last to disappear.

Mirella wasn't one for second thoughts. Her mind was far too linear; grab the girl, get her to a sheltered, quiet area, bag her and go. They'd get the info on the drain, and Hawke would love them all the more. Win win win.

Tossing cinnamon and saffron locks over one shoulder, she fished out a few coins as they neared a vendor. "Eh, its onnastick, but'll do fer now. Two, an' make sure they're th'best ye got." All was said with a smile to Emme, but everyone knew her face. The seller quickly hopped to it, eyes averted.

He handed them the gristly meat (though better than the normal fare he served), and the curvy witch handed the bigger looking one to her companion. She they moved away, Mirella scouted for a proper amush point; the others would follow her lead on this one.

Smiling warmly through a bite of onnastick, Mirella turned to the blonde. "Whats yer name, gel? I can't go about callin' ye chip fer good now can I?"

Emme launched into the onnastick like she hadn't eaten in days - which was the truth - and through the mouthful of cheap meat she muttered something unintelligible. She swallowed and cleared her throat. "Ysiel." It was a common enough name; not as common as Emme of course, but she imagined Mirella wouldn't have much of a reason to doubt it. And though she had given up most of her hopes, she was still adamant that she would never be discovered and sent back to the resistance...

At the emergence of this thought, she looked up with newfound suspicion at Mirella. Why was she being so kind to her, anyway? Could she be hoping to do something terrible to her, like everyone else in this god-forsaken town?

"I have to go," she said suddenly, and turned to run down the nearest alley.

This was it. The girl took her chance and began to bolt, shaggy blonde hair whipping out behind her. Mirella looked about once and whistled before making her own loping run.

An alley, really? In Old Rose? The girl definitely didn't know how things worked. Tossing aside the greasy food, she dived into the darkness herself, pretense gone. The Witches were in business.

Rinata nudged Yulina, and took off in another direction. She knew her city like the back of her hand, and could tell, like Mirella could, where Emme would go.

Panic rose in Emme's chest as she rounded the corner and hurried down a series of alleyways beside a large tenement house. She had no idea where she was, but the crushing feeling of being chased was all too familiar to her, and she knew she had to keep going.

Coming to a wooden fence, she stopped for a split second to catch her breath. In the silence, she heard quiet footsteps from a little way off, and her body seized up in terror. She slid through a broken gap in the fence and tore down the next alley.

In front of her was an open street, cobblestones glistening in the moonlight. No good - she'd be seen. With wide eyes she scanned the dark area, looking for somewhere to hide, anywhere...

To her right was an old wrought iron ladder set into the side of the tenement house. Seeing no other way to go, she grasped it with her skinny fingers, pulling herself up. The rust was slippery and stained the front of her clothes; the ladder creaked and shrieked. There was nothing for it but to ascend as quickly as possible, so she began climbing as though her life depended on it.

Yulina cackled. It was about time all the friendly stuff ended and the real chase began; she'd begun to tire of the disgusting scene, full of too much kindness. The girl was easy enough to follow because of her noise, and the slim witch exuded the kind of confidence of one who could practically smell fear. She didn't feel the need to run, however, simply slinking off into the darkness of the alleys she knew all too well with a more patient sort of purposefulness.

It didn't take long to hear where Emme had headed, and Yulina knew that the girl would soon find she had nowhere left to go.

Meseli Hastur laid in wait...for what? He was not entirely sure...A Hingle had told him to wait here and watch the streets for anything suspicious and he always trusted the word of hingles...

"Well...I wait for a miracle and I get none....perhaps it shall be a massacre instead?" He whispered he shifted uneasily. " Or maybe a ball...yes a wondrous dance...with those of souls and and hearts decked in ribbons and canes..."

With senses tuned like a predatory cat, Mirella slunk alone the darkened alleys. She was... cleaning up the mess, so to speak. The Bad Brothers weren't everywhere, as the tailor had shown. There were always eyes where there shouldn't be. Now that the rat was in the maze, this kitty could go about looking for birdies that had seen too much. Sandal clad feet padding softly down the filth and wretchedness of another byway, she could almost feel where passerby might linger, where she might sate the blood-lust that the hunt had given her.

She heard him before she ever saw him, which was normal for this predator. What wasn't was that he was so loud. Singing, mumbling to himself? Normally, she discerned the squeak of boots, harsh inkates of fear and air, rustling cloth against brick. No, this one was speaking. A damned fool, too, his voice riddles and shapes. Pressing curves against the wall, she paused in her silent search. He was... too close. Emme might loop about and come here. She could see him, he could see her. Whether this man was anything at all, that couldn't happen. Ceres had made sure she'd known that.

With one bat of thick eyelashes, she made her decision. In a soundless swirl of flesh and skirts, she was behind him, one leg sliding between his, knocking him of balance and stringing the poor appendage in totally the wrong direction, free hand wrenching his shoulder from it's socket with as much force and cruelty as she could muster. As he crumpled, damages ligaments in his knees unwilling to support him wholly on their own, she leaned in too, painted lips brushed the wick's ear, leaving behind smears the color of fresh blood.

"Leave. Run. Do not turn around, fer if'n ye do I'll make sure these stones're th'last place ye ever walk. Ye chen?" She licked his cheek before throwing him down.

Emme reached the roof breathlessly, her clothing torn and her face wild with terror. She stood on the edge, looking over, her daylight eyes trying desperately to adjust to the darkness. She heard nothing and saw nothing. Surely that couldn't be a good sign?

She tried to make a quick decision about which way to go. The rooftops in Old Rose provided shaky terrain, but it was possible to make one's way across the city without touching the ground. She was no acrobat. Shakily, she attempted to gear up to jump across to the next house, but her body seemed to stop her, causing her to hover unsteadily on the precipice. A tortured groan escaped her lips.

It was at times like this that a normal girl would despair, but Emme had made it through the great Scone Famine of '08, and she was damned if she'd let her emotions get the best of her now. Steeling herself, she leapt across, landing like a scuttling crab on the far side. It was an uneven roof, and for one soul-splitting moment she teetered on the edge, almost falling. After a moment that seemed like an aeon, she steadied herself, adrenaline replacing blood in her veins, every heartbeat punctuated in her skull like a drum beat. She exhaled slowly.

She was still behind her; Emme could feel it.

Rinata's catlike eyes were searching for the girl, and she was not difficult to spot. Her pale form was like a ghost against the inky sky. Grinning to herself, she searched with her hands for the way up; not seeing the wrought iron ladder, she contented herself to grab onto a window ledge and climb, monkeylike, onto the second story drainpipe.

"Mirrie, Yulie," she called out into the blackness, not bothering to keep her voice low. "Got something for you."

Yulina followed Rinata's voice, grinning like a hatcher about to swallow a golly. Catching sight of the ladder in the darkness, the slim witch scrambled up towards the roof in her own form of dark excitement. She landed with a quiet grunt, senses tingling, gathering her field as she let her vision adjust to the change in lighting.

"Time to show yer face. It ent like ye've got anywhere left to go." She hissed, impatient as usual.

((SFSR; gotta get back into Yulina's head ... it's been a while.))