Escaping Divinity

4| Silver

"Sylvia" he's eyes flickered with amusement. "To what do I owe the pleasure of speaking to you?"

"The world," she rolled her eyes. "How's the business?" She asked, though she could tell. There were people everywhere tonight. She pretended to look around as she reached over the bar for a bottle of liquor. She was quickly stopped by the slap of a hand.

"It would be going amazing if there weren't people like you stealing my stock," he huffed. "As much as I love talking to you, why are you here," he questioned, "I know you don't come here for fun." 

She didn't. Never had. She had come once to deliver produce and had realised how valuable the information the imp had was. He knew where to go to get what you needed. In town, in the forests, everywhere. She started to come here often and soon they had become friends. 

"I think you already know," she smiled innocently, leaning across the bar.

"Elaborate," He sweetly smiled, in turn.

She huffed as she began, "There is a little rumour going around that a band of hunters have entered the eastern slums. Is that true?" Elijah's jaw ticked. Hunters, they were the most vile and sick of all werewolves. The were executioners. If something needed killing, they were who you called. Or well, paid. 

And the worst part is, sometimes they killed for sport. In the slums they were defenceless. Too hungry, too old, too tired. They were easy kills, that could usually be sold. If the hunters were in the slums no one was safe.

Elijah took a too deep breath as he turned to face the wall of liquor bottles. He started to run a rag over a wooden cup, cleaning it as he spoke. "They are but rumours, well most say. There have been reports all week of children going down to the basin and never returning." 

"But the basin is a genrally harmless area," Sylvia spoke. As the only source of fresh water in the slums people avoided doing anything that could taint it.

"Exactly," His face was solemn. "But it is the Eastern slums so what can you do." He grinned, turning back towards Sylvia, cup in hand. 

"Elijah..."

"Their all a bunch of boot lickers anyway," He poured what smelt to be cider into the mug before passing it off to a thick bearded man.

"And you were the biggest boot licker of them all," she raised her eyebrows. 

"And I am fully aware of that," He smiled. "The difference is who's shoes I licked, I didn't make it here on my own." He gestured around himself.

She smiled, standing from her place, "The next shipments should get here in a wee-"

A loud crash sounded from outside, cutting her off. Her head snapped towards the door. Two men were fighting. A scrawny waiter boy, and a clearly drunk, meaty man. The scrawny boy was throwing much after much as the drunk blocked them. Not one hit him.

The blonde boy was screaming as he continued to try and best the man. The drunk acted as if he was no more than an onlooker and he was't the one that was blocking throw after throw.

It was clear the man had had enough. He lifted his burly arm and swung it down. Clonking the boy on the head. The boy took a few steps back in shock before regaining his focus. He flung himself, full force at the older man. 

Sylvia barely reacted to what she was doing before she noticed she was standing in the middle of the brawl. Her arms were extended between them as she kept them far enough apart from each other. 

The drunk tried to approach on the boy who looked no older than 16 but was stopped by Sylvia's splayed hand against his chest. It was clear he had not noticed her hand from the force of how he was walking. With that force, when his chest contacted her hand Sylvia was greeted with the warm but grotesque feeling of vomit. He had vomited on her hand.