07-05-2010, 03:49 AM
It was dusk in Dash City. As the sun went down behind tall apartment and office buildings, lights behind the windows and along the busy streets gradually flickered on. Car headlights turned on, too, and together they vied with the alleyway shadows for dominance over the evening. It was like that every night in the city. It was like that in the day as well, though Order had more purchase in the sun. It was Chaos, the disruption of the frantic patterns of the metropolis, that ruled under the moonlight.
By all accounts, Dash had balance. Or at least it had, until three nights ago or so, when a local leader of the city's Arcane world had been found murdered in his riverside mansion. He had been of the Order, and murder (or, at least, the messy sort he'd been a victim of) was of the Chaos. That was the rumor as Anya had heard it, from the owner of her favorite hole-in-the wall bar. Ezra always liked to talk as she sipped her ritual after-work beer, and she suspected he found her as fascinating as she found him. He was a tall black man, with deep brown skin, broad shoulders, and a spark in his eyes that even the Mundane city folk would recognize. Anya still didn't know what he was, really, and she limited her guesses to one or two per week. It had been an ongoing game, and she was running out of ideas. Eventually, she'd earn a free mug of stout, though.
This evening she'd left the bar early, driven to distraction by the nagging feeling that the murder was only the beginning of a bigger conflict. Ezra, distracted himself, seemed to understand. They were both of the Order, after all, and if the Chaos escalated… She shuddered, long legs carrying her up the stairs to her small apartment. She should have been gawky, but she seemed to move almost at a glide. Always had, and it was impossible to conceal. Anya was Naga, after all, and even on legs her people retained a serpentine grace.
The phone rang just as she had shed her human skin in favor of her long, comfortable tail. She rushed to grab it, hoping for good news, or at least a telemarketer. They were easy enough to hang up on. "Hello," she answered, clearly in spite of her short fangs and forked tongue. "May I ask who's calling?"
Last edited by Cicadetta; 09-18-2010 at 07:34 PM..
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