The Iron Assassin

The Skyline

Run run run. Trying to get my real book published and shit....

It felt good to have his weapons back. His tools, tricks, and toys. He didn't feel as naked anymore now that the weight of his sword rested on his back. Reminding him of the dangerous power that coursed through his veins.

"Got everything?" Opuntia asked, watching as he slotted his knives, tomahawk, bags of potions he held, as well as the few explosives he managed to bring with him.

"Almost everything. Caracal took one of my important blades." He mused grumbly. Checking off his mental list as he counted through every piece in his arsenal.

"You know she won't give it back unless she herself deems you fit." She chuckled.

"Yeah. Like how I've been taking care of the blade for a long time." He scoffed, unsheathing his wicked blade, swinging it around before sheathing it again. Oh how he missed the feeling of its familiar weight in his talons. The thick leather grip suited perfectly for his talons and his alone.

"But she doesn't know that. Nor does she probably care. She was very protective of her sister. Last I remember that is." Opuntia explained, walking away towards the exit of the separate storing room.

"I bet." He scoffed. A constant annoyance of his was of his "aunts" tendencies to give glaring daggers from time to time. Almost as if she was silently reminding him of his failure. Over, and over again.

"It's doesn't matter now though. You have so many blades and weapons, what's one less for now?" She pointed out, gesturing with her tail st the assortment of blades tucked into his armor.

"Yeah. But I liked that one." He grumbled, double, triple checking his set before nodding in completion and satisfaction.

"Oh well. Can't win them all. Now come on! We don't have much time if we want to be on time." Opuntia exclaimed, jumping out the door and leaving him alone inside. He couldn't help but let a smile slip though his rough demeanor. Her bubbly personality always seemed to slip though the cracks in his mental armor, pulling a spark of...joy? Out of him?

Didn't matter now. She was jumping down the corridors, leading him to what he presumed to be an exit. Weaving past the scalie bodies of other dragons. His large frame making others hug the wall basically to not get bulldozed over in some tighter lengths of cave.

"Good luck out there hotshot." Sandwraiths voice broke through the noise of the surrounding dragons.

"I don't need luck, Sandwraith." He responded dryly. A slight smirk danced over his face as she saunted over. Shaking her hips ever so slightly with every step as she approached him.

"I know. And judging by the company you have, you're going to have a lot of fun." She responded back, keeping her dignified stance as she stopped mere clawlangths away.

"Depending on what is actually going to happen." He huffed. Watching as she fluttered her eyes ever so slightly.

"Well..." She started, stepping forward until her warm breath danced over his ear. "If you don't have to much fun there, then I will be happy to entertain you, when you get back." She whispered soundly into his ear. "After all. Missions are stressful." She chuckled, pulling back with her stoic expression.

"Hmmm. I'll take your offer into consideration. Even though you seem to really want another round. Not so long after that incident." He inclined. Pointing her memory to what happened mere hours beforehand.

"Mmm. I can't wait." She murred, shivering lighting in anticipation of the lewd thoughts that drifted through her mind. "Ahem. Anyways. Good luck. Don't die." She nodded, regaining her composure before disappearing into the crowd once again.