"Ah-hey! Bo'liil!" I cry out. "Cut me a little deep don't you think?" I crane my head up and around from the wicker mat I'm lying prone on to stare into the eyes of the vastaya kneeling over me. I can feel the blood sliding down my back. "How about you be a little more careful?" I add. Bo'lii pulls his pao'lo and mulee away from my shoulder, the tools of a tattoo artist, like a hammer and chisel, made from serpent bone.
A little more of my blood drips off the mulee onto my back. He smiles, dabs with a swatch of old linen, and shakes his head. Then he holds up his hands and shrugs as if to ask, do you want me to stop. The words don't come out. Noxian soldiers took most of his tongue long before I started coming here, but I know him well enough to know what a look can say. His work is more than a fair trade for a little discomfort.
And the blood? I can take a little blood. A lot of it's not my own. "Clean it up a little, okay? I don't think we have much time," I tell him. Bo'lii begins tapping the mulee with the pao'lo and adding ink. I turn back around and put my chin on top of my hands. Kept my eyes training on the door that leads into Bo'liis tavern. His place is clean, but the air hangs heavy with guilt. The tavern is home to a collection of thieves, rogues, and bad decisions. My kind of place.
Bo'lii stops tapping. I'm here for someone else entirely. I feel my satchel against my thigh. It puts me at ease, although I would rather have it on me. From there, I could fire three kunai into three hearts by instinct. Three kills without a thought. Where it is now, I'd have to think a little.
I look up just in time to see the man come through the door. He is flanked by three guards wearing their battle dresses. "Well, that makes it easy... I wonder which one I'm supposed to kill?" I mock. Bo'lii laughs. Even without a tongue he still can. It sounds weird but it's real. He shakes his head and does that thing he always does. With a series of hand movements and head, nods he tells me to try and so my outside this time after they leave their establishment.
"You know I can't promise that," I say as I check my satchel, and turn to the din in the tavern. I pause at the doorway and turn to him. "I'll do what I can," I say before lifting the mask over my face. I don't mind them seeing my face, but if they saw me laughing at them, I think it will be just too much. The guy with the guard is my people - a councilman from Puboe, a place not far from the kinkou order. But like many, he sold out his people to the invaders for gold and safe passages to places and beyond.
So now he is my problem. But this is as far as he will get. Sure, I could've taken him out in his sleep at the inn, or when they made camp on their way here, but where's the fun in that? I want him to taste the salt air. I want him to feel a sense of relief before the end comes. But I also want others to see him pay for his crimes, and know that this will not stand. Actions have consequences.
I approach without a sound. His hands are shaking as he raises a mug of ale to his lips. His guards stand in defense when they notice me. I'm impressed. "Nice to see manners around here for a change," I say with a smile they cannot see. "What's your business girl?" one of them asked through a plate of pitted and tarnished steel. "Him," I say pointing with my blade. It glistened with hues of magic it was forged in. "He's my business right now."
The guards draw their weapons, but even before they can step toward me, they disappeared into a thick ring of blinding smoke. The kunai begin to fly, hitting their targets with a satisfying flesh and bone THUNK. One. Two. Three. Footsteps. I sent two more blades in that direction. A clang of metal followed by the THUNK THUNK of them ricocheting into the walls. More footsteps. "Aw, you're gonna bleed!" I called out, flinging a single shuriken from my hip, and flipping across the room, following in its wake.
I break through the smoke to see the last guard splayed out on the ground next to the door. The three prongs are lodged deep in his windpipe. I can see his chest rising and falling ever so slightly. I grab him by the collar, and raise him, just to make sure. "Almost," I whispered. At that moment, I heard gurgling behind me. I turn to see the councilman through the receding smoke, bleeding out on the floor. His eyes are open, darting back and forth across the tavern, wondering what just happened.
He looks so peaceful now.