The sounds of work. To different people, this meant different things. Hammers on metal, the rustling of goods, the whinny of a horse. But this was a unique sound. The sound of thin wire over thin flesh. Pulled taut, and given a twist. That ungodly gurgle, the writhing and struggling. Feet bouncing off the ground, the last desperate gasps. A head bouncing off the floor. This was the sound of the daily grind to this particular man. He stood, rolling away the wire garrote. He reached up to adjust his hood, having been disheveled in the struggle.

Black, closely-cropped hair crowned his head. Piercingly blue eyes peered out at his handiwork, a scowl of displeasure evident on his rugged face. He had a bit of hard stubble growing in evenly on his face, framing him in a way that wasn't entirely unattractive. His face overall spoke of power, but there was a rugged handsomeness that saved him from looking like a goon with bright eyes. He pulled the hood of his cloak back over his face, peering around the hovel. None of the mercenaries friends were rushing back. So far, so good.


He crouched down besides the corpse, rifling through the filthy pockets of his tunic. Would it kill these men to bathe at least once a week? Hm, what do we have here? He withdrew a folded, dingy piece of parchment from the man's pocket. Unfolding it, he was faced with a basic cipher. He was already privy to it, having been at this for a month. The idiots still hadn't changed it, which was fortunate, because he was no closer to his goal than when he had started. They were at least careful enough not to implicate anyone higher up the chain.

It took him only moments to decipher the message. It gave a vague location here in town, narrowing it down with an order list and landmark identifiers. It looked to be an alchemy list. Perhaps potions? What would these brutes need with magic of any kind? He recognized some of the described landmarks. He had seen a shop near what had been described in the message. This man had been to meet a contact there, soon in fact. He tore the parchment into several small pieces, sprinkling them over the dead man's body.

"Cheers." He said, cheekily.

He slipped out quietly, checking around. All was clear. With practiced ease he slipped into a crowd of peasant peddlers heading up the street. From there, he made his way further into town, milling with the crowds of commoners and merchants. In the midst of it all, he shed his cloak, stowing it away into a pouch. Underneath, he wore of the fashion of the day. He wasn't fond of the poofy cuffs, but it was the clothing of the elite. It fit him well, accentuating his strong physique nicely. The colors were mild, as he wasn't fond of this kind of clothing to begin with.

It didn't take him long cross town. Nobody knew his face, and to most he looked like another rich minor noble with business to attend to. He tracked down the landmarks, working over his knowledge of the town in his mind as he matched objects to their description. Never a doubt in his mind. He found the shop, or at least, he was sure he had. It was definitely a potions shop, with many cloaked figured moving around and about the area. Those into magic were often private people, who didn't like prying eyes. Fortunately, he wasn't the only person who stood out.

An obvious merc, who was doing a poor job of trying to look, well, like him. If his ruffled and unfitted clothing wasn't a giveaway, his stench surely was. He was impatient, waiting for his contact to meet up with him. This should be fun. He approached the man swiftly out of the crowd, adopting a slack jawed look of stupidity that seemed to go with the overall makeup of the group.

"I'm here." He grunted. The man looked him up and down, a suspicious look in his eyes.
"Where you be gettin' them fancy clothes at, eh?" He asked, managing to string words together.
"Nicked 'em off some dandy after I smashed his 'ead. Left him in a haystack. Can you believe me luck?"

The man regarded him for a moment, then snorted with laughter. It peeled on for a good length of time, before he motioned for him to follow him into the shop.

"You bring the coin?" He asked his supposed contact.
"'Course I did." Warde, the imposter, responded.

The shop was a sight to behold. But that wasn't what drew his attention, nor what made him feel a strange sense of recognition. He felt sure he knew the person he now beheld in his vision. But from where? Then she noticed them.

The shop stood before him, a tall building modernly built out of beautiful pale stone that had almost an opalescent sheen to it. A large window was embedded in place, guarding the items just behind it, and allowing one to see inside. A royal purple cloth was laid over an assortment of shelving possibly on a table, trinkets of all kinds as well as potions and books, laid strategically placed. It was inviting to all who were curious about magickal arts, and beautiful hand-drawn lettering was painted in silver across the window reading, "Moon and Stars Emporium." The door that led inside was a singular door, a window cling having the hours of operation and an emergency telephone number on it as well.

Strange that there'd be a number, what kind of emergencies could a magickal item shop possibly have? One could never tell.

The door had a small set of bells on the top of it, and when it opened instead of an annoying jingle it was whimsical and soft as if the bell's had been muted somewhat.

The shop was spacious, an entire wall was dedicated to books, another dedicated to large quantities of ingredients. Racks of cloaks were in the back while tables in the front were covered with organized chaos. A large L-shaped counter sat in the back, pressed against the wall. A door with a "magickal employees only" sign hung up on it, was right behind the counter where someone would stand, and a cash register that was compromised of a touch screen and swipe pad sat on top. The counters were made of glass, holding what could only be explained as the prolific items with the higher price tags.

A few employees walked about the shop, carrying items to restock, dusting, fixing tags and they were all orchestrated by one woman.

Her silver hair danced around her shoulders with her movements, like swirling beams of moonlight. The strands started off straight, but the ends curled softly, reaching her waist. Pale skin was complimented by big bright violet eyes and full red lips that stood out elegantly, and her straight nose with just a cute little turn upwards of the tip solidified her face. Slender arms, long and graceful moved this way and that as she directed her 'minions' about, her fingers, long and slim from years of piano.

Her movements were like dance steps, fluid and graceful and her very aura exuded some kind of royalty - but she was not. Nobel blood? Maybe. She was certainly not a plain commoner. Her body was clothed in a beautiful light blue dress, the sleeves almost like a see-through chiffon that hung gently off her shoulders. The bodice was a tight fitted corset, strung up in the back while the skirt flowed to the floor. Her curves were obvious, child-bearing hips, an ample chest, and an hourglass figure? Most would drool and call her their own vision of perfection, maybe even a goddess.

But she was humble, shy really.

As she turned about filling out paperwork and guiding her shop workers she stopped to see someone peering at her through the glass, a rugged face, dark features offset by bright blue eyes.

So familiar...so very familiar, but from where?!

"Oy, what the hell is wrong with you?" The harsh whisper tore Warde's attention away from the silver-haired vision. "Focus."

"Right..." Warde replied, falling in behind the man as they entered the sprawling shop. Warde mentally shook himself, refocusing himself on his job. He didn't have time to gawk at pretty women, no matter how familiar they seemed. The thug seemed to at least know what his job was, because even though he seemed unsure of himself, he was able to pick out things from the list. Oh, he memorized the shopping list. Impressive. Warde thought to himself, settling back into his stride.

It was fortunate, to be sure. Warde had no idea what the hell any of the things on the list were. The only things he knew about magic was how to protect himself against it, and in some cases, kill those who used it. At some point, the thug became stumped. He then pulled what Warde could only assume was a ciphered copy of the shopping list, in full view of everyone. Warde blinked. Sure, it was somewhat secure. But, to whip it out in public? People had been arrested for that sort of thing before.

"Do you know what this is?" The thug whispered, leaning over and pointing to the list. Warde stared at him incredulously.
"You don't know? Gee, why don't we just ask someone." Warde growled back.
"Oy, you! I could some help!" The thug called. Warde slammed his face into the palm of his hand.
"I was being sarcastic! Why the hell would you call more attention to us?" Warde whispered harshly. It was too late, as someone swished over to address them. Warde detached from the company, expertly melding away and perusing the shelves. His ears perked up, curious as to how the fool would explain what he was looking for.

Then he saw her again. The conversation faded out, his eyes beginning to track her as though of their own accord. He watched her move, a strong feeling of familiarity washing over him. He knew her, he was sure. But from where? It was almost a nostalgic feeling, like remembering something cherished from his youth. He watched her, subtly, until he received a tap on the shoulder.

"What the fuck are you looking at?" The thug asked him.
"Nothin'. You get what you needed?" Warde replied, adopting his cover instantly.
"I think. But hey, if I didn't, maybe the boss won't know the difference? All this shite, he's likely to miss something."

Warde followed him to the counter, ready to pay for the goods. He indeed had a slush fund of coins and various goods he had taken from various villains. Hopefully this magic crap didn't drain it entirely. It would be a small price to pay, though, if it meant a real lead. He pulled a pouch of coins from his belt, the coins clinking cheerfully.

"You think that'll be enough?" The thug asked.
"Better be, or else you're going to have to pawn those clothes." Warde replied, guffawing stupidly. He waited for someone to appear behind the counter.

Humming quietly, Serenity moved about behind the counter adjusting things here and there while filling out a list of inventory that had to place later that day. "Hey Seren! These guys are ready to be rung up!" The assistant who had been helping Warde and the blundering man ushered them over to the counter, "this is Serenity, she will help you from here on out, this is after all - her shop!" Within a second the assistant had blurred away to return to their duty.

She had noticed Warde, that was for sure. The sense of familiarity and comfort that he brought to her, was like a warm blanket draped over her, but in the humid warmth of summer. Uncomfortable and foreign. Large eyes peered at him as she held his gaze a moment too long and she quickly lowered her head to look at their things.

Quickly she rang up the items, "that's going to be twenty dollars, please." As she waited for the money, she once again stole a glance at the male, he had this exterior that could only mean to keep one away with its slightly unkempt appearance of deshevled hair, and the expression of stone he kept on his face but he wore noble clothing, it was confusing - but just slightly. She knew he probably just wanted to be left to his own thoughts and so she did.

As he handed her the money, their fingers touched briefly and she gasped quietly, pulling her hand back a little faster before a small drawer popped out of the counter under the register and she deposited the money.

Bagging the items, she placed them into a soft light blue fabric bag that had her shops logo on it, a silver drawstring pulling tight to keep them secure. "Is there anything else I can help you with today?" She looked at Warde, not the other man, her question clearly meant for him.

In that brief moment of contact between the two, Warde's world ground to a halt. He was reminded of something, far in his past. A pleasant childhood fantasy. Had it been reality? It seemed more like a dream to him, days of pure innocence. The days when he was still human, before he lost part of his soul in defense of so many. Time then sped up, intent on fast-forwarding to the present. He blinked, her question floating to him through a haze. He opened his mouth to answer, then stopped. He thought for a moment, his brain grinding back into action.

"Yes, actually. I'll be back in a bit." He said to her, giving her a warm smile. He left with the goods and the mercenary, back out onto a street that seemed far less advanced by comparison.

"Boss man will be happy. He wasn't keen on waiting much longer, tell you what." The merc said, jostling the bag of magical goods around.
"You know where we're supposed to bring this stuff? Bloody idiots didn't tell me." Warde responded, slipping back into his disguise.
"What'cha mean, no one told you? You's the middle-man, you have to deliver this stuff!"
"Not my fault the men are a bunch of lazy whoresons."

The Mercenary grunted, pulling Warde off into an alleyway. He glanced around before pulling the ciphered message from his pocket. Oh, now he's careful.

"Take it to the address on there. You were supposed to know, so if anybody asks, I didn't tell you." The nitwit managed to grumble. Warde smiled, taking the directions from the man with a laugh.

"Cheers." He said softly, his right hand snapping up to deliver the ridge of his hand into the mercenary's throat. He felt cartilage collapse under the powerful blow, the man's trachea caving in under nearly one-hundred pounds of force. The man's eyes snapped open, his hands going to his throat as he gasped for oxygen that would no longer come. Warde pocketed the cipher, snatching up the bag of magical goods and leaving the man to his final, agonizing moments in the dirty alley.

He would examine the cipher in a bit. Hopefully he would find some kind of ladder in this organization to work his way up, one at a time. But first... He marched back into the shop, looking around for the silver haired woman. Spotting her, he marched straight up to her, holding up the bag.

"I'm back. I need to know, what exactly would someone versed in magic need these particular things for?"

She almost looked delighted to hear that he would be back, her expression for a second reflecting eagerness and happiness. Nodding she turned away from him, smiling fully now that he couldn't see her face and held a hand over her heart. It was beating rapidly, too rapidly. There had to be something there.

She had been alone for a long time, her past while clear as a bell, was murky in only one place - love. She knew she had loved before, yearned to hold the hand of the one she adored, laughed plenty and full, but she couldn't remember who. Him.

The only memory of that time she possessed was a small trinket, the original inspiration of her shops name. It was a silver charm, a moon and star with a gemstone embedded inside, on the back was inscribed "To the moon and stars. I love you." It was simple, and sweet, a reminder of something once so innocent. She reached her hand to her neck, sliding her finger in the chain of a necklace nd pulled out the charm looking down at it. "Maybe...Maybe it's him."

You twit, men don't just appear randomly. It's been years, even if it WAS him, he wouldn't know you from a face in the crowd.

Her thoughts, while cruel, were true. Years had passed since the memories had first laid to rest in her mind, and even she could no longer remember his name and barely even his face.

Sighing she turned around just in time to see him once more come through the door, or rather charging. He placed down the sac of items and she blinked, looking at it and then him. "Is there something wrong with your wares?" "I need to know, what exactly would someone versed in magic need these particular things for?" She looked down at him before opening the bag and pulling out the random items one by one.

"Well, you seem to have purchased a bottle of Sleeping Lillies, a few sprigs the Corpse Flower, and an Awakening Elixir. If you take Sleeping Lillies and add the Corpse Flower petals, allowing it to marinade - I guess you could say - for a few days, it takes the toxic element of the Corpse Flower and creates a deadly poison. The Sleeping Lillies potion; puts the drinker into a sleeping state as the flowers toxins take over the body, giving a slight paralysis at first before drawing them into death. The Awakening Elixir stops it if you soak the Corpse Flower in it for just a few hours."

She placed the items back into the bag and sealed it shut, pushing it back over the counter to him, and she decided it was now or never. "May I ask you something? Do...Do I know you? it can't just be me, you feel familiar too yes?" Her violet eyes searched his blue hues, seeking the answer she knew already.

At her words, his mind began to turn over thoughts. So fast, in fact, that he almost missed her question. But now his head was swimming with possibilities. The people he worked for had reasonable intelligence to assume the minor plot they had uncovered was headed by a mage. The death of the Baron's son had raised much ire, and many eyebrows. He had been heir, a sure in for the land afforded to the elderly Baron Helmsly.

There was no sign of a struggle, no damage visible on the young man's body. Obviously he had been killed via magical means. The investigators sent to look into it had systematically wound up dead, as well. Just when the Nobility should have taken much keener interest, their desire to seek the truth dried up almost over night. So it fell to him, chosen for this task and with almost no real evidence. All he'd had to go on was a thin shred of a lead from a mentally ill homeless man that claimed to have seen a band of mercs murder an investigator. He described them as having identifying marks branded on their wrists.

It had certainly put him on the trail, but he still needed to find the path. So far all he had was some ciphers and a lot of dead bodies in his wake. He had never liked killing. When he was selected for his perception and mind as a youth, he had no desire to be a part of what he now was. Now, he couldn't imagine life without. He had done so much. So many things, so many bad things stopped that the guilds and the nobles ignored. Things the world would never know about, which meant he had done his job. But hope flared again. Her expert opinion might not be a lead, but it was evidence. A keen mind knows how to use evidence, how to make the connections no one else would.

It was what he was trained for. He just need more pieces of the puzzle. Which meant walking into the exchange with no prior knowledge of what he was getting into. He had no choice, even though it was far from optimal. In the midst of all this, her words penetrated, picked up by his brain but not immediately registered. Seconds spanned awkwardly before he finally looked up at her. Did he know her? He met her eyes, her enchanting eyes. He thought so, but he didn't know for sure. There was that feeling once more, of something lost to him.

Almost absent-mindedly, he reached down into the collar of his clothes, withdrawing a silver charm on a chain around his neck....

She watched as his mind was working a mile a minute, perhaps even faster. Their eyes met and at the same time their hands went to their necks, where they both kept the charm. She heard the jingle and her eyes went down to it, a soft gasp leaving her lips it was the same charm.

"I-its you..." Quickly she yanked off the necklace, the locking mechanism snapping. She thrust her hand out, holding the dangling charm in her palms grasp. "Look! They are the same! Who are you!? Where did you come from? How did you get here? Were you looking for me?!" Questions rushed from her lips as she looked at him, eyes wide. Her voice cracked at the last words, hope running through them.

Hope that someone - finally - wanted to find her.

She had never felt "home" there, there was always a piece of her missing, maybe he was the piece. Her heart was racing as she looked at him waiting. "Say something....Please, anything..."