No Mourners, No Funerals

7.✓

Kwet was easily hidden behind a roof top, her tall form crouched as she watched the two figures from afar. Their body language intended they were not friendly with one another. Kwet doubted anyone in the Slat was really friendly with strangers.
Kwet focused on listening, discovering that the pair were sisters, that one had apparently killed their father. Watched as they fought. She had a gut feeling she should report it to Kaz. After all, one had seemed to be following him, but if she waited more information may come her way.

Vlam was slowly making his way down the decently crowded streets of Ketterdam, his beloved wolf-dog Oiche never straying far. Not like she could, she had a thick rope lead around her neck so she couldn't wander too far. The dark long-coat Vlam never left without brought him a small amount of comfort, allowing him to hide the daggers on his arms fairly easily.

The duo often paused at various attractions around the city, the farmer's son simply dazed by the sheer size of the bustling city. Oiche growled at poor souls that wandered too close, her blue eyes glaring at anything that moved. In all honesty, he was a walking target. The very definition of an easy pigeon to pluck; well the large canine at his side helped his image slightly, but he still was a target for any thief with experience. 

Vlam kept walking until he suddenly paused, quickly realizing he had wandered into a lower part of the city, were crime ran nearly unchecked. Gulping slightly, he reached down to give Oiche a comforting scratch between her ears before continuing forward. The older teen had heard there were jobs around here, legal or not he didn't really care. The only thing he cared about as of now, was getting a roof over his and Oiche's heads and food in their stomachs.

Vlam subconsciously quickened his pace, anxiously brushing back his maroon hair with his hands as he continued down into the lower depths of the city. When he wasn't running his hands through his hair, he was petting Oiche, and when he wasn't doing that, he was playing with the sheaths of his daggers. Eventually Vlam paused looking around the area, just on edge. He wasn't exactly sure where he was, or what he was supposed to be looking for to find work. So he just continued forward, occasionally turning down alleyways when necessary.

As he painted, Wylan listened to Jesper shooting. It put his brain in motion. Ever since Jesper had mentioned going back to the Barrel last night, it was almost all he could think about and yet, he couldn't make a decision. He desperately needed Jesper or he'd run the company into the ground. He also didn't want Jesper falling back into bad habits. 

However, he couldn't stop Jesper from doing what he loved, he couldn't take the Zemini away from where he wanted to be. After all, that's where Wylan himself had been just six months prior. But that was when he didn't have anywhere else to go. That made him think of his mother sitting in Saint Hilde, with nowhere else to go. Except Wylan. What was holding him back from getting her out of there, he didn't know but it had been six months of not helping her and something needed to be done soon. 

A shot from Jesper brought the young merch back to reality. He finished up his painting, he was proud enough of it. Not his best work but it looked alright. 

Now to get through a meeting, he thought to himself and walked inside.

Sybia headed to the streets. Her hood hid her slim frame. She saw a cart filled with apples and other goods. Her swift hand went in and out of her long coat. Her hand latched onto an apple. She pulled her hand back into her coat.

"Like taking candy from a baby," she muttered to herself. 

She bit into the apple. The juices filled her mouth, the crispy skin of it made a satisfying crunch.

"These apples are to die for. Let's see if Inej will," She said.

The apple fell to the pavement as she let go of it. She quickly glanced backwards. She could sense someone following her.