The rain is whipped by the harsh wind as Solus walks towards a nearby building. Tonight most activity on the streets ceased, not even the shadiest of figures like storms like this. As Solus enters the building light floods into the dark street and then is pulled back into the building by his opening and closing the door. Inside the building people sat and discussed business over a mug of ale, or were having diner. That's what pubs are for. But Solus wasn't here to meet someone. No, he was here for shelter from the storm. He looked around from under the hood of his cloak that was still pulled down over his face. He noticed an empty table in the corner of the room and went and sat down. He kept the hood over his eyes and just sat there observing the crowd.

Amzela stooped in a shady corner, observing the crowd. They were laughing as hard as a lunatic's laugh. Amzela smiled under her cloak. They could drink all the ale they wanted. It would be easier to steal from them then. But she noticed a figure in the corner. He had his own hood drawn over his head, the shadow hiding his face. She glared at him. Figuring something in her head, Amzela stood up and walked over to the man. As always, she bumped into a man, who got angry. There was the usual sound of a mug smashing as the man got up and drew a sword. She drew her elven saber, again. The man roared. She flipped back her hood, revieling her black hair and eyes filled with danger.

Not long after Solus had taken his seat a woman created a great commotion a couple meters in front of him. This of course pleased him for it gave him some entertainment. He leaned forward in his seat, resting his elbows on his knees, and pulled back his hood a bit, revealing his face. His bandanna was on, like normal, covering his left eye. His right one had a sort of shine to it, its dark blue gaze staring right into the girl's face. His black hair was messy as usual and hung slightly over the bandanna. Perhaps if enough people's attention turned toward the match he would be able to get his hands on some ill-obtained gold.

The man was apparently stronger than Amzela, for she was loosing ground. She was backed up against the table next to that man that was cloaked. The man's sword was almost against her throat when she jumped across the table and grabbed the man by the wrist. She ran across the room with the man as the other man dived to where Solus use to be. She bumped into another man. He had a bow. His skin was pale and his ears were pointed. He was an elf and he was angry. He notched a arrow and pointed it at Amzela's throat. She froze.

Solus felt bad for the girl, she was obviously out-numbered and out-matched. He wasn't about to help her though.. that is until he noticed the lumpy pouch attached to the bowman's belt. Gold.. Solus thought to himself. That was all he needed, he would help the girl, get the man's gold pouch, and maybe a couple other gold pieces from her in return for the help. He stood up and grabbed his dagger from its sheath on his belt. He skillfully avoided all the people standing and watching the fight and made his way to the man with the bow. When he got close enough he grabbed the man around the throat with one arm, pulled him back and plunged his dagger into his back. He could feel the warmth of blood drip down the handle onto his hand. He let th body fall to the ground with a thud.

Amzela stood there in shock for a moment.
He just killed an elf!

So what? It's just anot--

Knock it off, Markus.

Amzela reacted quickly. She stole what ever money she could from the rest of the people, grabbed the wallet on the elf's belt, and grabbed Solus. They were in motion again as a woman called for the guards. "What is your name? I'm Amzela!" she said as they ran across the ground, into an alley way. "And why did you kill that elf?" She exclaimed as they were coming closer to an alley, trapped within a maze of alleys that surrounded the Drital Qu'ellar Pub.

Solus followed the girl, who's name he now knew was Amzela, without a fight just because guards were coming.
'He had something I wanted, so I killed him. Everyone dies eventually, just happens his death day was today. The name's Solus.' he said, pulling his hood back up. He took a look around at the darkness around them, and cast light on his own hand to give them some light to see each other in.

"Not, everyone." She gawked her head at the name. "Solus. I heard the name before. You make a good point for killing him. You're almost like Morgo...wait. Morgo's just bloodthirsty. Never mind." She threw down the money. "You get half the bite, I get the rest." She smiled.

That shall please you.

Nice work, Amzela.
She looked at Solus slyly.

Do you know of any thief called Solus?

Let me think. Quick with words, great swordsman. Nimble with his feet. Better watch what money and things you have.

Solus took his half from Amzela and looked at her, 'Half sounds fair enough, you need to watch your step though, a thief like yourself should know that.' He says thief almost sarcastically. He pockets his portion of the gold and takes a seat on a nearby crate and doesn't say another word. The rain was still falling, but it was starting to let up. His hand still illuminated the alleyway and it revealed little that seemed out of place. A couple crates scattered here and there, a rat would scamper by every so often, and the buildings on either side loomed up and blocked out the little light the moon provided through the storm clouds.

“When sorrows come, they come not single spies, but in battalions. Therefore, since brevity is the soul of wit, and tediousness the limbs and outward flourishes, I will be brief. The spirit clings to the entrapments of that accursed piece, the coins of greed. Yet for all this, the rapacious trappings to the spider-strewn hall of a man too oft is blinded by the shrewd mind of the corrupt. The question: what can sever the chains as old as time, save him who has the key? For we do each bear the key, that holds the power of emancipation to liberty from avarice. For when our outward actions do demonstrate the native act and figure of our hearts in compliment extern, 'tis not long after but we will wear our heart upon our sleeve for crows to peck at: we are not what we are. That, that is, is. 'Tis strange: and oftentimes, to win us to our harm, the instruments of darkness tell us truths, win us with honest trifles, to betray's in deepest consequence.”

With that, a strange man stepped forth from the shadows of the alleyway, the rain pouring upon his visage. His hair was black as jet, but all other features were concealed beneath his voluminous marsh-green robe, as well as a plain, white mask. His voice was neither masculine nor feminine, and nothing about him made it possible to discern his gender. He was about six feet tall, but his build was undiscernable due to the cloak. He then continued to speak.

"This is the excellent vanity of the world, that, when we are sick in fortune, often the surfeit of our own behaviour, we make guilty of our disasters the sun, the moon, and the stars; as if we were villains by necessity, fools by heavenly compulsion, knaves, thieves, and treachers by spherical predominance, drunkards and liars by an enforced obedience of planetary influence; and all that we are evil in, by a divine thrusting on: an admirable evasion of mullet-master man, to lay his goatish disposition to the charge of a star! It is we who are to blame for our blaspheme-worthy actions, no more the scapegoating of fate."

Amzela made a small fist at Solus. "Why do you not like thieves so much? I didn't want to be a thief in the begining," she whispered. She could scence Benesse behind her. "I don't understand. Why?" She was frustrated. She would kill Markus for what he did to her.

Benesse looked the woman strangely. He cocked his head, and replied,

“He that has and a little tiny wit,
with hey, ho, the wind and the rain,
must make content with his fortunes fit,
though the rain it raineth every day.”

His mask began to change, from a plain white, to a dull grey, mingled with light blue tear-shaped patterns. He ran his hand, pale and colorless, down the wall of the dingy alley-way. A slight chuckle could barely be hear coming from him, and he turned his ghaze skyward, the rain splashing onto his mask. He said, “You claim that you did not want to become a thief. No one forced you to, that was your own choice. It is when men begin to shift the blame of the crimes they commit, that all hope fades into the shadows of corruption. You chose to become a thief.” Benesse then turned to the other man, and said, “You seem to look down on her for her profession, and yet, judging by your appearance, mannerisms and demeanor, you are of little less questionable occupation. It is not wise to try to attribute to yourself some illusionary nobility, in a place where nobles are hated and robbed.”

He then said to the both of them,

"Whereby I see that Time's the king of men,
he's both their parent, and he is their grave,
and gives them what he will, not what they crave.

Time si short. Be careful how you spend it, strangers."

Solus had not moved from his seat on the crate. But he had listened to all that was being said, and he chuckled. The rain dripped from his hood, but did not bother him. A small smile good be seen just under the edge of the shadow. As he slowly stood up he walked over to Amzela.
'Thieves work just as hard as others to perfect their skills to earn their money, be not ashamed of our profession, I was merely attempting to help you yet you shoot me down, why?' He didn't wait for an answer before turning to the strange newcomer.
'Stranger, I was not looking down on her, My sarcasm was meant in a way as to say she is not a real thief. I myself am a thief.'

"Yes. I'm a forced thief. Don't you think there is something behind this?" She sighed. "I'm controlled by a demon. Though the demon doesn't live within me, he stole someone else spirit. I can stop him, but if he has full control of me, I can't very easily. It drains my strength."
"Time is not the king of men, but Death is. That is why Time has no control of this demon. Only if someone could kill him." She shook her head in shame. "But not many of us succeed to travel into the spirit world and come back. Half of us died of trying, half of us died from being killed by Markus."

What were you saying?

Don't you dare.

I'm coming.

I wish.

Luciouses rounded a corner. "Amzela! Where are you?" He shouted. Where does that girl go every time I need her? He shooked his soaking fur and continued on. "AMZELA!" he shouted. "Markus wants you!" Still no reply. And she expects me to find her in the soaking rain. He, then, saw her fly out of the Driltar Qu'ellar Pub. "Amzela!" he yelled. The girl didn't heel. "Come back here Amzela!" He ran to the alley. They weren't there. He ran down the dirty street and came out on the other side. "Amzela!" Where are you? He turned around to see Amzela's hair whip around the corner. Strange. Why is she running? He flew after her into a the darkest alley in the distric. He tripped. "Amzela! Come here!"