A debt was to be paid when the moon and the drinks were full. The tavern was poorly lit and the shadows were long and silky enough to wrap around her shoulders. It made a useful replacement for the shawl she had left at home in dire need of mending. Darkness was just as thick and more effective than any cloak or cloth.
She pinched black corners and draped them across her body slowly. No one looked up, and if they had, they would not see or remember the young woman who had walked in and vanished into a corner. To her, darkness was as friendly as a poor man's cheap drink and its whispers were insistent and agitated.
A debt was to be paid while the piercing glow of the moon threatened to slice her cloak where it reached out from the window. She stood near the drop zone and her palms itched in influenced eagerness. Fingertips caressed intricate carvings in the unique blackened ebony hilt of her dagger. She licked her lips slowly, sensually savoring the taste of the moment; cheap liquor and loud murmurs in her ears. Wants and desires so deeply embroidered into her narrow mind they were now her own.
The jingling of the front door bell sent tantalizing shivers through her bones and her dagger was silently drawn. Skin tingling, the man walked in; dark hood and darker eyes, chapped lips from the wind and a choppy scruff shadowing his thin jaw. Through him, another debt to be paid.
He glanced around, his body calm but his eyes nervous. He had been instructed to deliver the payment between channels. He was looking for her but was unsure what to look for. Warm lips stretched into a quiet smile while she watched him squirm. The bartender asked if he wanted something and he replied with a no. As the worker opened his mouth to kick the deliverer out, she stepped through the moonlight to shear her cloak. The hiss as the shadows receded from her shoulders resonated only in her ears and the relief in the man's eyes brought amusement to bubble gently in her chest.
They met in the middle of the room. She said nothing. He began the practiced words. "I am here to deliver payment."
He didn't know what side of the debt he was on. A long time ago, she had felt pity for deliverers, but that time was long passed.
She reached out with gentle fingers and removed his hood. He was younger than she had previously thought. So unsure of the world. So inexperienced. She would make that all go away.
Her touch was hypnotizing as smooth fingertips traveled up his throat and under his chin. With two fingers slid into his mouth, she tilted his head up with no resistance. The ebony was cool in her hand.
"Your debt has been paid." A whisper. A voice that merely reflected what hers once was.
Choking; a slight and involuntary resistance while tendrils of what made up her cloak slid down his throat and explored his innards. Warm blood veins that branched in all directions like hallways. His muscles spasmed and the ebony buzzed. She lifted it to his throat and delicately cut a deep slit. Whispers were murmurs were shrieks of excitement. The blood was spilled and the soul was free from its sturdy bonds. The debt had been paid.
The body slumped heavily to the ground with a collapsing thud and with blood tipping her fingertips, the shrieks quieted to whispers and followed her out.
No one could be bothered to put a life before their drinks.
