Fighting Females Cap'n and Wren
 

Bio:
Ashlynne Creediton grew up in the streets. A rough and tough fighter, she knows several was to kill and even more to cause harm. She was never a girly type, preferring fighting to playing dress up. She doesn't have friends, only partners in crime. She isn't afraid to steal if it means living one more day.

Looks: http://www.testriffic.com/resultfiles/27061anime14.jpg

http://fc04.deviantart.net/fs51/i/20..._by_RobbyP.jpg
Delila Fields grew up in a small town with her family. Even as a baby she was fussy and had a restless spirit. Her father had no idea how to raise a daughter, and her mother had walked off when she was still an infant. As a result, Delila grew to be more wild. She never had many friends, finding it hard to connect with anyone. She spends a lot of her time studying everything she can, naturally being curious.
She accepts the everything and everyone for what it is. Nothing ever seems to shock her.

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Picking up her bag from the ground, Delila glared at the man who had just knocked her over. "Watch where you're going you dolt," she growled at him. Her father put a hand on her shoulder and whispered to her to calm down. He didn't want her getting into a fight with a stranger on the street again. It made Delila even more angry when the man made some rude comment back to her before walking off.
"Why did you just stand there," Delila yelled at her father, "He knocked me over and you're not going to do anything about it?" Her father kept his silence and continued to lead her through the crowded street. "Where are you taking me anyway," she asked, still sounding irritated, "I told you we don't have to do anything special this year."
"Yes, we do," her father told her, "It's your 18th birthday and I'm not going to let you spoil it for yourself." She sighed and tried to pretend to still be angry with him. She let him take her arm and go down the street then she realized she dropped something. "Hold on dad," she told him, "I can't find my book. It has all of my paintings in it."

Ashlynne sat on the stoop of her run-down apartment building and looked around. Trashed was piled on the sidewalk, there was shattered glass littering the road, the druggies and the pimps sold their wears to the addicts and the passersby. A man who was quite obviously drunk out of his mind, wandered up and asked her, "Hey, girly. How about a show for me, huh?" He hiccuped and reached out to touch her. Ashlynne pulled her hunting knife from it's sheath and leaped to her feet. "Touch me there, sir, and you will lose your hand." she growled placing the point of the knife on his wrist. He laughed and took a few steps back before passing out. she noticed something fall out of his pocket. A book. She put her knife back and bent to pick it up. She leafed through it, admiring the images on the pages. "Paintings?" she muttered, turning the pages slower.

Unable to find her book, Delila was getting really upset. "I'm not going to go anywhere without," she told her father, "I bet that man took it. I'm going to go and find him." Without giving her father a chance to protest, she took off running after him. She was a quick runner and knew that he couldn't have gotten to far ahead.
Delila stopped when she saw that he was harrassing some girl, but grinned when the girl pulled out a knife on him. That will teacher the coward, she thought to herself. Upon seeing the book that Ashlynne had picked up after seeing it fall out of the man's pocket, her urge to kill him rose. He really had stolen the book. "Hey," she yelled, "That's my book, don't let him go." She ran up to Ashlynne and hoped that she would return. "Please," she asked, "He stole that from me a few blocks back, will you give it back?" Her cheeks were still red from running, and she was still breathing a little heavily. She wanted to chase after the man again, but getting the book back was more important to her.

Ashlynne looked at the girl who had approached her. She was dressed quite nicely and gave off the air of money - this would be fun. Ashlynne grinned and asked with a cockney british accent, "Wot's it to you? I didn' see a name on it mum. I found it an' it's mine." She clutched the book to her chest and squinted her eyes. "Such a pretty lady you is mum."she said, "I bet mister Treaton be lucky to 'ave you as one of 'is girls." She gazed of at the sleazy pimp standing across the street who had a woman on each arm. She hated the man for everything he was worth. He had asked her several times to join his "business" and every time she had declined. She knew that there was a better life than one on the streets; all one had to do was fight for it - something Ashlynne knew she could do well. She was far from being uneducated, but she wasn't as learned as one could be. She could read and write and do simple math in her head. Her thoughts however, were anything but simple. Looking back to the girl who had asked for the precious book of paintings was staring at her, and more importantly the book. Ashlynne turned trying to play the part of innocence - something not hard for her to do even though at her current age she was considered an adult. "I told you it's mine mum. I found it. An' I like looking at all the pretty colors and shapes."

Delila's face turned even more red. Ashylnne had accused her of being a prostite, and worse, was refusing to give her the book back. She could hear her father shouting her name down the street, which meant he was catching up to her. She glanced down the street and couldn't see him yet. He sounded worried, but she couldn't go back to him without getting the book back.
"Look you," she snapped, "You can stop with the fake accent and pretending to be stupid and innocent. That book is very important to me and I want it back." She reached for it, knowing that telling Ashlynne she wanted it back wasn't going to be enough, and she wasn't about to lower herself by buying it back or begging. If she had to, she would just simply take it back. She wasn't afriad of the knife. She had found barehanded againts people three times her size that were carrying weapons and beat them. She just had to rely on the speed. "If you don't hand it over then I'm going to take it," she told Ashylnne. Please don't make me get into a fight today, she thought, I can't get myself or my father into trouble again, it'll be the second time this week.

"Well, you're a smart cookie." Ashlynne said turning to look the girl in the eyes; her accent was gone. She tossed the book back at the girl, secretly hoping she would catch it. The paintings in the book were too good to land on this dirty street. "Don't waste all those smarts in a place like this." She nodded towards the man that was running towards them. "I take it that man is 'father dearest'? You best answer his call quickly, lest Mr. Treaton will take notice of you." Ashlynne stepped up onto the stoop, heading towards the door, then looked at the girl again. "I wouldn't let that scum hear too much of your name, or else it will end up on his payroll." She shot a fiery glare at the pimp. "He can be very persuasive. Go back to you castle, princess."

"Thank-you," Delila said, sounding somewhat relieved. She caught the book gave a slight smile to Ashlynne before calling out to her father, "Father, stop shouting, I'm just over here." She held out her hand to Ashlynne, "My name is Delila, I want to thank-you for giving me the book back. If there's anything I can do to repay, would you let me know? And that includes punching down that dirt bag across the street for you." She felt a little weird thanking Ashylnne after she gave her the trouble and was acting very rude, but her father would punish her if she atleast attempt to be polite, and the chance to beat a pimp to bloody pulp would make her so much better.
Delila wrote down her name and address and handed it Ashylnne. The address was in the poorer section of town, where the houses hardly looked like castles. Her clothes were contridictory to where she lived because her father had saved up money to buy them for a very long time, he wanted her eighteenth birthday to be something something special. "You come by there any time," Delila said, "It's just my father and I, and we love to have company."

Ashlynne laughed and looked at the paper, "Well, this certainly isn't Royal Row." She tucked the paper into her back pocket. "Name's Ashlynne." she added reaching out her hand. She looked at the gentleman standing next to Delia, nodded then looked away. "I can tell you miss Delia, that I won't be visiting you for fear of being chased from the streets. I bid you good day." she turned once again to leave the girl, but a thought hit her. "Why are you in this part of town anyway? You might get you pretty little dress ruined." She noticed the man again and stiffened. "Please forgive me, sir. I was never taught to hold my tongue in the presence of a lady."

Delila's father laughed, "No offense taken miss. I'm Robert Fields, and this young lady here is my daughter, we're on our way to the pier to buy some smoked fish." He took Ashlynne's hand and kissed it, trying to be polite even though Ashlynne did not seem to have much charm at all.
The comment about her dress and house bothered her a little, but she shook it off. It wasn't worth making a big deal over anymore when Ashlynne just seemed to be a rough person in general, not like she was trying to pick a fight. "Wait, why do you fear being chased from the street," Delila asked, "It's not like you've done anything wrong, have you?" She knew she shouldn't ask things like that, but maybe it would bring some insight as to why this girl was being so rude to her. Looking Ashlynne over, she regretted the question. Ashlynne didn't look like the rich sort, and had probably stolen a lot to get by. She wouldn't be suprised if the Ashlynne even killed a few people. Maybe it was to just let her go on her own instead of putting anymore effort into thanking her.

Ashlynne blushed beat red when Mr. Fields kissed her hand. She had never been treated to such fancies in her whole life. She brushed it off and composed herself enough to say. "Might you be needing assistance getting to the pier? This neighborhood isn't too kind." Then she turned her attention to Delia and smiled. "I've do what I've had to do to get by." She thought for a moment than said, "I'd be chased from the street like a stray dog. It's how the populous sees me." She jumped off the step she was on to land on the path in front of Delia; to look her in the eyes. "Human nature teaches us to see the worst in people. But you," she gave Delia a once-over. "You look harmless." Ashlynne grinned and chuckled. She could feel the anger building in the other girl, and knew it would show itself soon - if it was prodded enough. She stepped back and gave the man a once-over as well. He definitely comes from money. She thought. And he doesn't have a tight hold on that coin purse of his. She smiled at the thought of getting something from the market to eat. Her last meal had been - she couldn't remember. "I'll be all to welcome to show you the pier." It would be easy enough to lead them there and loose them - while at the same time they loose all the fortune.

((I'm really sorry it took me so long to reply to this, things got a little hectic for me.))

"Assistance would be nice," Delila replied for her father, "But we've been there plenty of times. I'm sure we'll be able to find our way through this area without to much trouble." She was losing more and more trust for Ashlynne by the moment and wanted to get away from her as soon as possible. She also noticed that Ashlynne was eyeing her father's purse and was thank-ful that he wasn't carrying much money on him at the moment and that she had left her own money at home. She took her father's arm and looked reutrned Ashylnne's look, finding the chuckle at her expense annoying. "And don't think that I'm so harmless," she snapped, "I've been learning to fight since I was a little girl and I've been in my share of street fights."
Delila tugged on her father's arm slightly to signal that she wanted to leave soon and in return he nodded. "Well, it was nice meeting you, but we should get going soon. Delila still has to get home early to study," Robert said politely.

((It's alright. Things were crazy for me this weekend too.))

Ashlynne laughed so hard she fell on the ground. "You? In a street fight? Perish the thought!" She stood once again, and looked Delia in the eye. "You have no idea what it's like to fight for your life, princess. In fact, I bet the only thing you fought over is what color dress to wear." Ashlynne turned slightly to look at Mr. Fields, and turned on her innocent girl charm. "I'm certain that you would never let you precious daughter befall such troubles, sir. If I had a father, I hope he'd be at least half the man you seem to be, sir." Ashlynne smiled sweetly, bowed her head, then stepped to one side. "Beggin' your pardon, sir. I didn't mean to interrupt you stroll." She walked back up the stairs of her stoop and sat down.

"Well, actually, I put Delila in underground--," Robert was cut off by Delila tugging harder at his arm. She didn't want him to tell anyone about the underground fights that she was put in occasionaly so that they could pay the bills. She was angry that she was being taunted by Ashlynne, but her fights were a matter best left alone, unless she wanted to chance being caught by the authorities. Ashlynne could go on thinking that she was some spoiled, rich brat for all she cared. "Guess we'll be seeing you around," Delila said as calmly as she could, pulling her father back to the street they had come from. She wasn't going to chance going further down these back streets even if it would take longer to get where they were going. Stuffing her book into her bag and closing it tightly so that it would not fall out again, she smiled the best she could at Ashlynne, "And once again, thanks for returning my book. It's the one thing that my mother left to me before she walked off, leaving my dad and I alone."

Ashlynne eyes widened, and she fought back a laugh at how Delila seemed to control her father. If she had ever tried to control the man who had attempted to raise her she would have met his belt, or his fist. Ashlynne pulled out her knife once again, and let the sun glint off the smooth, clean, silver surface. "The Underground?" she arched an eyebrow, but didn't take her gaze off the knife. "Oh, I was wrong then. You aren't a princess. You're a gutter rat that stole a gown. Barely getting by, I bet. The bills are pilling up, aren't they? They'll become too much and you'll end up in the same place I am. Or worse, with Mr. Treaton. You wouldn't be the first I've seen end up here. Walk away now, but you'll be back." Ashlynne sheathed her knife, stood and opened the door to the run-down apartment. "See you soon, princess." she said closing the door and running up the stairs. Shit. she thought and she flew up another flight of stairs. That little scene made me late. I going to get it for sure. She ran down the second third floor hall till she stood in front of room 319 and slowly pushed the door open - then quickly shut it again at the sound of glass shattering. "Stupid slut! Get in here!" A male's voice yelled form the other side, loud enough to be heard in the streets below. Ashlynne was terrified; she'd never seen or heard Daryl in such a rage. She reached for the pistol on her belt. "Daryl." she said in a quiet voice. "Daryl, I ain't coming in there when you're like this. You'll beat me again, and I don't deserve that." She thought about Delila, who may or may not be still out on the street. It didn't look like she had a bruise on her; nor did her father look like a violent man. Ashlynne began backing down the hall as Daryl's yells continued. Suddenly, the door to the apartment crashed open and Daryl stumble out into the hall. He had a half full whiskey bottle in one hand and his belt in the other; his pants were down around his ankles, making Ashlynne thank God he had underpants on."Get over here, you dirty whore!" he shouted advancing towards her. She raised the gun so it was level with his eyes. "I'll shoot this time Daryl! So help me God, I'll shoot!" she yelled.

Standing speachless for moment, Delila watched Ashlynne go inside. She wanted to slap the girl, but she knew it was true. She wouldn't be able to stop fighting if they wanted to keep up with the bills, and what if she lost one of her matches? They would be put into horrible debt from the bets that her father always played on her. She was about to go, hoping htat the rest of her day would go better when there was yelling inside. She stopped to listen and heard the a door open rather roughly and a man's voice. She knew that Ashlynne was in some kind of trouble.

Delila ran into the apartment building and followed the voices up the stairs. Even though she didn't really like Ashlynne, she didn't see any reason why she should have to go through something like this. "Ashylynne," she shouted, "Where are you? are you ok?" She finally came to the floor where Ashlynne and Daryl were. "Ashylnne, wait," she said to her, "Don't kill him. You don't have to do that."

Ashlynne didn't take her gaze off of Daryl, who had stopped in mid-stride once she had drawn the gun. She laughed and said to Delila, "Princess, If I don't kill him, he'll kill me." She pulled down the collar of her shirt to reveal a healing bruise that wrapped around her neck. "Because believe me, he's tried. He's tried many, many times." The pistol in Ashlynne's hand lowered from its target. "You can't save me, princess. This is where I belong."

Daryl began inching forward as the two girls conversed. As soon as he saw the gun's aim drop he charged, slamming Ashlynne into the wall. He pushed Delila as far away as he could, while keeping Ashlynne pinned. He flung the bottle of whiskey towards Delila, making the liquid spill over her dress. Then he began to wrap his belt around Ashlynne's throat. "Stupid Bitch." he spat in her face. "Good for nothing whore." Ashlynne clawed at the restraint, trying to get air to her lungs. Sweat formed on her brow, and her breath became shallow. She began to lose the feeling in her arms, forcing her to let go of the pistol. It fell to the floor and discharged, shooting Daryl in the foot. He jumped back and fell to the ground, howling like a wolf. Ashlynne collapsed to the floor, gasping for air, clutching her throat. "Get out of here!" she called to Delila as Daryl began to crawl toward her. She couldn't fully stand yet, and felt his and close around her arm. He pushed her to the floor as he tried to stand. Failing at that, he fell back so he was in a sitting position. He looked around him and smiled when he spotted a piece of broken glass within his reach. He lunged for it, intent on grabbing it and plunging it into Ashlynne's side. "Stupid slut will die now." he muttered.

Delila was glad that her dress only got wet, it was a close call with the whiskey bottle. She struggled as much as she could when Daryl pushed her away. He was a larger man, but the alcohol would make it harder for him to fight. Delila stepped on the man's hand when she saw him reaching for the piece of glass. "You rotten scumbag," she hissed, bending over to grab his wrist. She gripped it as well as she could, but she her smaller hands made that hard and she began to pull him away from Ashlynn, giving her more time to recover until she could fight her own battle. "You wont kill her," Delila growled, picking up a piece of glass by her side, "I promise that you wont."
Still struggling with him, Delila tried to give her attention to Ashlynne. "Hurry up," she told her, "Either get up and run, or get your gun again. Don't aim for what will kill him, aim for what will disable him. Shoot his knees and arms, or you could cut him spine. Make it so that he keeps living, but never be to anything in his life again." Her voice was full of strain and she hoped that Ashlynn was quick at recovering. She wasn't going through all of the trouble of trying to save the fight for her for nothing.

Daryl let out a yowl of pain when Delila stepped none to lightly on his hand. "Damn Bitch!" he yelled at her, pulling his hand free. Then he saw that she had the piece of glass. "Dumb bitch like you can't hurt me." he drawled. "Didn't your old man ever teach you manners? You're a man's property, till the day you die someone will own you. You only good for lying on your back. That's your job." With his free hand, he reached up to touch Delila's chest. In his drunken state however, he only managed to grab the front of her dress; he tore it down the length of her body.

Now that Ashlynne could breathe again she stood, picking up the gun. Her aim was slightly shaky, but she fired anyway. The bullet flew from the gun and landed in Daryl's meaty left thigh. He let out a sting of curses and shoved Delila away from him, so he could reach his new wound. "You never learn, do you Daryl? A respectable woman won't let you put your hands on her and live. You may wanna say you're sorrys to this lady. 'Fore her daddy has you hauled off to jail." Ashlynne looked at Delila, "I told you to leave, princess." she managed a smile. "Thanks for stayin'" Ashlynne collapsed to her knees, and rubbed her throat. "I'm sorry 'bout yer clothes." she said, slipping back into easy street talk. "Was a purty dress. Yer daddy have money to git you another one?" she nodded at Daryl. "He has a purse in 'is right pocket. Should be about 200 dollars in there. Take it. I sure as hell don't need it."

Before taking the wallet from Daryl, Delila kicked him on the back of the head to knock him out for awhile. She pulled the dress off, glad to be out of it. "I'm not worried about this thing," she smiled at Ashlynn, "It didn't mean much to me to start with." She adjusted the slip that she had been wearing under the dress and let her hair down. "I wouldn't have stayed if I didn't want to, you know," she stepped over Daryl and knelt down by Ashlynne, "If it's in my power, I wont let men like him ever hurt anyone."
Delila looked directly into Ashlynne's eyes, studying them closely. "Look, I don't ever want to hear you talk in that street talk again. I know that you know better then that. I also don't want you to call or think of yourself as a street rat again. You're better then that as well." She pocketed the $200 and pulled Ashlynne up to her feet. "Now, my father and I are going out to dinner at the peer," she said in a matter of fact tone, "And you look hungry. How about joining us? Daryl is paying after all."

“Why are you being so nice to me?” Ashlynne asked once she was sure on her feet. She looked at Daryl, lying unconscious on the ground. “I might as well go with you. I sure as bloody hell-” she glanced at Delila. “ I mean, heck am not coming back here.” She walked past the body and through the broken remains of the door into her apartment. Scanning the main room, she saw the mountains of Daryl’s beer bottles and cans, plus dozens of half empty packs of cigarettes. Forging her way past the mess, she managed to enter her small bedroom. It was an empty room, with only a small pallet of blankets on the floor in one corner and a medium-sized cardboard box in another. She walked over and knelt next to the box, where she pulled out several items: a worn, leather satchel; a small box that contained a series of knives; a tin cup - with its matching bowl, spoon and fork; a small sewing kit; a small coin purse that held her savings; and a leather bound book with no title. The last thing she pulled out of the box was a pink silk dress. It was the only thing of her mother’s that Daryl had not destroyed - besides the locket that hung at her neck.

After packing the contents of the box into her bag - she also grabbed a blanket from the floor - she walked back out into the hall and handed the dress to Delila. “Here. I want to repay you for your kindness. It should fit you. I hope it does, at least. I have no other way to repay you.” While Ashlynne thought about the coins in her pocket, she knew she couldn’t mention them. They happened to be her own winnings from her Underground fights, and they tripled the money Daryl had had. “Besides, your father would have me hauled to the jail if you went out into the street in your skivies. I mean, underdress. Pardon my slurs, Miss Delila.” She blushed and bowed her head.

"No, this dress is yours," Delila handed it back to her, "But thanks for offering it to me, and don't worry about the way I'm dressed. My dad has seen me wandering around outside in worse." She looked at the things that Ashlynne had with her and figured that they must be her only possessions. It certainly wasn't much, but living with a man like Daryl, one couldn't expect much. She started to fix her hair up into a bun and take off her stockings to show more leg. Her slip went down to her knees, so she figured it was long enough. Taking her torn dress, she whipped off some of her make-up. The finally she took the shoulder straps off of the slip and pinned it tightly in the back so it resembled a dress. "So, do I look rediculous enough yet?" Delila giggled, seeing herself in a mirror just inside Ashlynnes apartment." She was showing off more skin than what would be appropriete with the pimp outside, but she didn't really care.
"I'm glad you're bringing your things with you, because you wont be coming coming anywhere near here after tonight," Delila offered her arm to Ashlynn, "Shall we?" She knew that Ashlynne probably thought she was absolutely ridiculous by now, but had her mind more on the fish that she would get for dinner. It had been awhile since she'd gotten to eat meat, and perch was her favorite.

“It’s not only your pa I was worried about.” Ashlynne said taking the dress from Delila, and putting it in her bag. “Mr. Treaton’s gunna see you. He’s gunna want you. And once Mr. Treaon wants you, you’ll never see your home again. If it weren’t for Daryl, I would have gone to him. The pay is good, or so Marybeth tells me.” Ashlynne shuffled her feet nervously. “And she said it’s not too bad; that sometimes the men are real nice. ‘Course Marybeth was always saying how nice men are once you get the drunk enough.” Ashlynne blushed thinking about her childhood friend, and about the occupation she had chosen.
“Daryl was never a nice man.” she whispered taking hold Delila’s arm. She walked the other girl down the first flight of stairs. “He - he never did anything to me, but he used to hurt my mum real bad.” Tears began to form in Ashlynne eyes. “ Mum was never a fighter, and she loved Daryl. That was her reason to let him hurt her. ‘He’s doing it ‘cause he loves me; he’s teachin’ me a lesson.’ But I knew it was wrong. I knew it was wrong and I didn’t do anything about it.” Ashlynne stopped at the top of the stairs and wiped her eyes. She looked the door that led to the street. On the other side was Delila’s father, a man who was the complete opposite of Daryl. She tried to remember her father as a man who knew his place in the world. A man that loved his family and his job; a man who laughed and sang and had a proper upbringing.
“Daryl’s not my father. He was my mum’s husband, but he’s not my father. My father was a drifter. When my mum was young, her pa was a well off man - he owned a shipping business. She was very likable and boy, was she a beauty. She had a lily garden, and she used to sing. I guess that’s what attracted my father - the singing. See, he was a music man. Wandered from place to place, singing and playing his guitar, or his fife. There’s a fancy word for people like him, a... bard? I think that’s it.” Ashlynne pulled the book out of her bag. “These are his songs, I can’t understand them much, but the words flow real nice. Your paintings remind me of them.” Ashlynne put the book back in the bag and started to descend the remaining stairs.

Delila thought about her own father a moment, noticing the tears in Ashlynne's eyes. She was right, he wasn't anything like Daryl. He was heart broken when her mother left, and even though she was usually distant with him because he never learned how to raise a daughter, he always treated her properly. She knew he even felt guilty allowing her to go to the underground fights. He insisted on them finding another way to make money, but kept letting her do it because it's what she wanted to do.
"I can teach you that music," Delila said, glancing at the pages, "It's not hard to learn to read it. Maybe you could even sing it." She opened the door for Ashlynne and smiled meekly at her father. He gave her an appalling look, seeing that she wasn't wearing the dress. "Sorry dad," she said in a low voice, "But please don't ask questions about the dress." She handed her father Daryl's money, knowing he had probably heard the fight inside, "Daryl is paying for dinner tonight." Her father took the money and said that they would talk later.
He noticed that bag that Ashlynne was carrying and almost wanted to protest. "Well, that's awfully nice of Daryl," he smiled, trying not to seem bothered, "So, off to dinner before someone notices Daryl and calls the police?" Delila nodded at him, thank-ful that he wasn't going to make a big deal of anything at the moment.

Ashlynne shuffled her feet, noticing Mr. Fields obvious discomfort. "It was real nice of you to invite me to the pier, Miss Fields. But I really ought to be finding some place to be." She nodded and took the dress out of her bag again, this time handing it to Delila's father. "Here ya go, sir. I told her to put it on, but she refused. A lady like her shouldn't be wanderin' in her underthings." Ashlynne shivered as a cool wind blew by rustling her boy cut of hair. She sniffled and rubbed her hands on her pants, then attempted a curtsy. "It was nice gettin' to know you. Thanks for what ya did up there." she said with her head bowed. "Margie's is bound to have a place for me anyway." She spoke of the tavern down on the corner, where Mr. Treaton sold most of his wears. "Margie's a good lady. Mum's friend - fore the weddin' anyway." Ashlynne shivered again and pulled the blanket out from her bag to wrap around her shoulders. "She'll take me in, give me work 'round the bar. I'll be alright. Don't you be worrin' Miss." she smiled at Delila. "Hope you enjoy your stroll." She turned and began walking down the street in the opposite direction of the pier. "Oh," she said turning her head back, "And Looney Creed's has the best smoked fish in the town. Give him my best, will ya?" Hunched against the sudden chills she felt, Ashlynne made her way to Margie's. She was about a dozen or so steps from her stoop when she collapsed in a coughing fit. Once the bought was over, Ashlynne stood again and returned to walking, wiping the blood that had collected in her hand on her pants.