The Art of Rebellion

Seems Undone

I spend hours walking around this horrible place. The cold temperature is nice, sure, but the people here are even worse off than I could've predicted. There are homeless kids and slaves all around. Most of them assume I'm rich when they see my jacket, then start begging for scraps of food or coin. They don't even realize it's a cheap hand-me-down, like a lot of my clothes. None of the other well-dressed people are giving them the time of day, so I don't, either. Unwanted attention is the last thing I need.

I walk into a tavern named Cat Skelter, then approach the bar, where a blonde girl is wiping a glass dry. It's a lively place, full of gambling, drinking, smoking and pole dancing. The Enian bartender has definitely had some sort of training. She's in excellent shape, and I can feel traces of magic on her. She takes note of me once I'm sitting down, then smiles.

"Hey, what can I get'cha?" Good with people, too. An infiltrator?

"Go ahead and choose for me," I reply with a smirk. "I trust you."

She bats her eyelashes in a way that makes her look more like she's having a seizure than an attempt at flirting. Scratching infiltration off the list. A fighter, then?

"We've got a nice vaski bottle. 375 edition," she suggests, taking it out from under the counter and pouring me a glass. "Not here for gambling?"

I smile slightly. "There are other things I'm focusing on right now."

"Oh? And what might those be?"

We hear a loud crash from the kitchen, and she scurries back there, leaving me high and dry. Splendid. It took me four seconds to get that far. I'm never getting that time back, you know.

"Sorry about that," a soft, familiar voice says as the kitchen door opens. "She's gonna be busy for a bit." The woman's red hair sways behind her as she approaches me, wearing too little to be comfortable in this weather, despite the fires inside. Her catlike eyes seem to dance as she leans over the counter, and I barely manage to remember my appearance has changed drastically. "Maybe I can keep you company?"

"T-That sounds nice," I reply, cursing my stutter. Of course I'm already hitting snags.

"Aww, are you nervous?" she coos. "Don't worry, handsome. I don't bite."

"Know anything about Eliza Drucelli?" I blurt out, slinging the words together faster than a hungry dog would bark, and she starts laughing.

"Lookin' for the famous writer with the balls to oppose the kingdom, eh?" There's no mistaking the playful grin on her face. "Is that the type of woman your prefer?" She leans over the counter as she speaks, emphasizing the swell of her chest.

"Just curious," I answer, not trusting myself not to slip up if I were to use too many words.

"Well, I happen to have some info on the matter, but it's gonna cost ya."

I reach into my satchel, but the increase in her laughter freezes me in my tracks. "I don't mean like that! I want you to spread the word of how good our services here are."

"That's all?" I ask. "I just gotta say your drinks are good?"

She shakes her head, still grinning. "Those aren't the services I'm talking about. Follow me." She drags me toward the end of the long bar counter, then into one of the backrooms. I thought it would be a storage or something, but it's a well decorated bedroom instead. Ah, now it makes sense. Brothels earn a lot, but they're forbidden in Nazreth, so she disguised it as a tavern. She drags me over to the bed, and I catch a glimpse of my reflection as she does it. Lilith didn't actually change my appearance; She just changed my age. I look exactly like I did ten years ago. Not good. Aya could recognize me.