18 Frost 120
A terrible scream tore through the air.
"Please! You can take what we have, just leave our children be. I beg you!"
The leathered backs of about half a dozen or so bandits shook with laughter. They were all clad in dark hides and furs, standing at complete ease like so many ominous pillars against a backdrop of white and grey.
"You misunderstand us," one of them answered, voice drenched in scorn. "Your children are what we want, and therefore what we will take."
At their leader's signal, two others stepped forward and grabbed each child by the arm. Brother and sister cried out as they were ripped from their parents. They looked to be no older than five or six, their tear-stained faces twisted in confusion and terror. Desperate, the parents lunged for their children, only to be knocked to their knees and sent sprawling into the snow.
"If we leave them alive, they might alert the city guards," a man with a thick, dark beard growled.
Their leader nodded in agreement. Daggers were drawn and held to each victim's throats, only to be ordered to wait at the last possible second. The bearded man was clearly irritated but he obeyed, as did his cohort, who was a lankier fellow with a scar cutting across his left eye.
"On second thought, perhaps they could be of some use before we dispose of them," the leader hissed, pulling down their hood to reveal rivulets of dark, wavy hair and ashy skin. It was a woman with cruel, sunken eyes and a complexion close to that of a drowned corpse. She walked around the victims, deliberate and slow, a sinister smile tugging at her mouth. Behind her, a wicked looking tail swished back and forth. "It's been a while since we've had some quality entertainment."
The woman closed her eyes and placed her hand over the husband. It was unclear what she was doing...until the man seemed to grow angrier and angrier. "Wh—what..." he sputtered, before turning hateful eyes upon his wife, who grew even more horrified.
"Mm, yes," the bandit leader cooed, "show us how you really feel. Come on now, it's okay to be angry. To want someone to blame."
"You...you wretched woman," the husband snarled, veins popping all along his forehead and neck. "This is all your fault! If you hadn't insisted on taking the children with us—"
"What are you saying, Artur?" the wife wept, "We could not leave them alone, we had no choice!"
The two men holding them hostage slowly withdrew their knives and backed away. A circle of bandits now surrounded the bickering couple, watching in rapt attention to see who would crack first and what the aftermath would be. With every exchange, husband and wife grew more heated, their words cutting deeper as they both rose to their feet.
"Stop,"Faine interrupted, stepping forth from their hiding place. They could stand the nauseating scene before them no longer. Leave these good people be. Have you no shame? Twisting our kind's gifts for such a vile display."
The second Fae's arrival jolted everyone from the unfolding drama. Even the husband and wife seemed to drift from the bandit leader's Mesmer influence, realizing with growing horror what had almost come to pass. The bandits, on the other hand, were all seething with anger now, their wrath focused solely on Faine.
"Well, well, what do we have here?" the leader sneered, answering in Valasren to acknowledge their shared heritage. Though, somehow, their accent was harsher, sharper, dripping with arrogance too contemptuous to be Court of Winter. Which meant...
"A new plaything to join us," she continued, now in common so that her merry band of murderers could understand. "Or, better yet, a worthy sacrifice. Yes, I think our Queen would very much enjoy having the likes of you twisted to pieces in her name."
The men and women around her jeered, expressions lustful on the promise of violence and bloodshed.
Well, Faine thought to themselves, this was probably a mistake.
Common ❀Valasren
