successors

cas

o n e
[ mctyr ]

CASSANDRA HATED WEARING a corset as much as she hated wearing her surname. And she never really pondered more on about what she detested more.

     McTyr. That name was not something she wanted to wear on top of her head every time she walked down the dark streets of Wellhawk—with alleys too coated in shadows, and roads too bright with light, cobblestone highways and buildings too steep to even be scaled. Good thing she wasn't the scaler this time. Not in this job. Wellhawk was just too naturally unnatural, filled with the usual thieves and thugs and walking scams that so much as having eyes with colors too unusual made her a target. Apparently, only McTyrs (based on legends) had been born with the eyes of emerald—but her's didn't just stop there. Her eyes had two colors, an emerald tinted with muted gold. And it's not even heterochromatic-there were literally two colors in one eyeball. Half of her pupils glowed an emerald green, and the other half was muted gold. So when she signed up for this job, of course she needed tailoring.
 

  And with the tailoring came the corset.

     Just endure this, Kris had warned her with that commanding voice of his-with eyebrows furrowed as his black-brimmed glasses that framed his golden eyes were low on the bridge of his nose. For the money, and also the information. And she had been enduring it. She promised herself that she would die in the greatest way she could think of: happy, succeeded, content. She thought of dying in battle, where she could face someone who actually bested her in combat, letting the world tell her that No, Cas, you're surprisingly not the most invincible bitch in this world. That would have been a far more ideal death than running out of breath because of a damned corset.

     She had her eyes trained on the bar of this highly fancy restaurantesque ballroom of a mansion. Wellhawk was a dump, but it did have lovely restaurants and pubs and other places she usually goes to-either to wallow, drink, or maim someone and take their money. The usual thing that happens in the morning or night or any day. That was Wellhawk, the city of thievery, the epicenter of swindles, and she just so happens to belong to the right crew. And today, they were in the house of one of the wealthiest men in this land.

     On the bar, with her smirk visible and her eyes sharp as they always were, was Disyana Ionus. Call me Dice. She would just scold her, but she insisted on calling her with her full name. Just for the tease. Her pale, slender fingers had worked on the drink that was about to be served, her hair in a ponytail, petite body in a proper tunic, blue eyes scampering every men and women—she looked like she was going to burn down a very posh mansion. And with all seven of them, they actually were.

      She locked eyes with her, sending a silent message. And there, she caught the movement of her electric blue eyes as they traveled up the flight of stairs—an open, golden arc of steps with a wide enough space for most of the guests in this mansion. There, by the bottom of the stairs were Racquelle McGeon and Jesse Caeli, both in the same dresses as she was. Hopefully, the three boys would be at their own places, she didn't need to bat them eyes for her to be sure of that. She glanced in front of her, a rich merch's eyes were too fixed on her, as if she was more delicious than the dessert in front of them. But this wasn't just another rich merchant with a hard dick. She gave him one of the most alluring smiles.

      "You have pretty blue eyes." He whispered, trying his hardest to be seductive. She scoffed. My eyes aren't even blue. Cas tried her very best to not stab him then and there with her obsidian sais (that certainly took a lot of willpower). She didn't take enough time to take in that Jesse had tailored her eyes again, with whatever substance she applied in her pupils. Heck. She didn't even take enough time to register that her face was caked in makeup, and her sternum was being folded by the corset she was wearing, not to mention the amount of frills this dress had. She even wore hair extensions due to the fact that she had her hair cut in the most mercilessly short way. She was almost sick to look at herself whenever she saw her reflection.