InsaneJournal

Paper rustled and dark leather gloves carefully held the wanted poster as frightened hazel eyes stared at it. There was a rustle of claws then and a rough voice growled, “Looks like they’ve upped the bounty.”

“You’re not helping,” breathed Meira Kinsail as she stared down at a sketch of her own face.

The cloak covering her left shoulder shifted and then a tiny green half-draconic head tipped with two horns poked out, followed by a humanoid torso. It sighed and leaned forward, carefully tapping its claws against the poster, revealing a pair of wings carefully folded against its back.

“Five thousand gold…that’s a pretty hefty price for one of their own. You usually only see that sort of amount on the pureblood’s.” The creature then chuckled darkly and added, “Though since you’re a sorceress…there’s probably some dragon blood back there somewhere.”

Meira scowled and crumpled the posted in her fist with a snarl of, “You are not helping, Zyphil!”

The creature – an imp – chuckled and said, “Someone’s in a tiff, aren’t we?”

“I have enough trouble getting around already. And no one seems to realize that everything has been an accident!”

“Not everything,” said Zyphil with a sinister smile.

With a scowl, she hissed, “Anything to do with me. Nothing you do is an accident.”

“Well coming here…”

“Oh don’t blame that on me. It’s not my fault that the scribe didn’t correctly put down two of the summoning runes on the scroll. I was trying to summon a regular familiar, not a minion of Hell!”

“And as I’ve told you again and again, you should have checked it.”

Meira snorted at that and asked, “Against what? You forget, Zyphil, that I was born into a peasant family. I couldn’t just go out and check magic runes on a whim.”

The imp shrugged, propping his arms up on her shoulder, and said, “Well I can’t help that, m’dear. We’re stuck with each other now…and you’re stuck with this bounty.” He flicked his tail, tossing her red hair about with it. “I might suggest dying this mane of yours.”

“I’ll work on it,” she growled. Drawing a black bandana from a pouch on her belt, she slid it over her head and tucked her hair underneath it. That would work well enough for now in hiding her since she’d gained a scar under her left eye since someone had last spotted her. Well…someone had spotted her – hence how she’d gotten the scar – but he never got the opportunity to say anything about it. Zyphil and a fireball she’d hurled in a fit of panic had seen to that. “And get back down. It’s bad enough when I’m recognized. When people see you, everything goes to piss.”

Zyphil chuckled darkly and said, “You’ve been spending too much time in the taverns, m’dear. Their dreaded slang is creeping into your voice.”

“The taverns are the only place I can really be safe now since those that stay in them don’t take well to the Law. Now get down!”

The imp inclined his head and slipped back underneath her cloak, his claws gripping at her leather tunic as his tail wound about her neck. For a long while it had felt like he was about to choke her – as she was afraid he would to get out of his forced service to her. But Zyphil was an imp and mischief ran through his veins as potently as magic did through hers. And he reveled in the chaos that followed her bad luck at almost every turn.

Also…now the feel of his always-warm skin against hers was somewhat soothing. He was all she had now.

Sighing, Meira continued walking towards the sounds of a town – blacksmith’s hammers clanging, the clamor of voices, and the smell, oh, the smell! – and left the crumpled wanted poster in the dirt behind her. As she passed a number of people, she drew the hood of her cloak over her head in a fit of paranoia, and nipped at the sleeve of a passing boy. A few offered coins gave her the location of the nearest tavern and she set off towards it in the hopes of finding a room for the night as well as the chance for a bath. It had been a while since she’d been clean or slept in an actual bed.

“King’s Men,” hissed Zyphil from underneath the folds of her cloak and she cast a quick glance around from underneath her hood. The heavily armored troop of men blocked the path in front of her and she watched with horror as they peered closely at anyone that passed them, even going so far as to tear off a man’s cloak.

The sign for the tavern she’d been pointed to was right behind them and she had the sudden sinking feeling that any other in town was watched by such men as well.

“Dammit,” she hissed under her breath.

“Looks like we’ll be camping again, hmm?”

“Shut it!” snapped Meira. Quickly she turned away from the guards and started back on the way out of town, one hand absently sliding down to grip the hilt of her only weapon. It was nothing but a small athame, the silver blade etched with dark runes, but it was a weapon.

And Zyphil made it known constantly that if she could ever get herself in control, she could use it to great ends. Though his concept of great ends was usually killing things, so she didn’t really take his word for that.

“You!”

The imp twitched along the back of her neck and she felt his claws scrap skin. “We’re spotted,” he hissed.

She growled and hissed, “I sensed that. Now you stay down! I’m going to try to lose them.”

“And how do you intend to do that?” snapped Zyphil.

Meira smirked and tossed a glance over her shoulder, seeing three of the heavily armored King’s Men coming after her. She then spun on a heel and darted into an alley, her hazel eyes darting everywhere as she shrugged back her cloak to free her arms fully.

“Because, dear Zyphil,” she purred, fully confident in her abilities for once, “I may be a peasant girl, but I was a thief long before I was a sorceress. And I know how to escape from the Law.”