Assasination Contract: Olivia Sutton (Job/Solo)

Hargeon Town, a town that reeked of the sea. The powerful taste of salt tarnished his tongue and tickled his nose as the darkly-dressed man hopped from rooftop to rooftop with an apparent haste. His face scrunched together and forehead creased as he found himself shrouded by hordes of stocky, yeasty men and seagull droppings. If the salty smell of the sea wasn't enough to make his stomach sink, the waves of fishermen and merchants surely made his nauseous. Even so, he'd stop from time to time to pause and admire the shimmering, strikingly blue waters as the crystalline waves lapped over each other and covered the rocky shore in a chiffon sea foam that looked so light and fluffy one would say they were like clouds on earthland. He could see men and their sons snatch fish from the same sea with a quick, abrupt fwipping sound to follow. Some were quicker to catch fish than others, but they all embraced their bonding no less. Ahote could only watch them with an awfully indifferent expression before turning to continue his haste.

Despite the dark fabrics he dressed in, he was surprisingly unnoticeable. No man or woman had caught wind of his hopping from their streets or the brooding that his companions could detect from a room away, and when he paused again he'd stop at the peak of the roof, where the sights were greatest and his own presence was veiled. He effectively became a shadow, not that he desired it. But the infamous man was not hopping from roof to roof to simply avoid the crowds of people that lapped in the cobblestone streets, but his eyes wandered as if searching. The dull topaz pools looked for wrinkling, blemished skin along with hair so white it shined like snow. He picked out small women from a crowd who relied only on their canes or wheels to get them to where they wanted to be and peeked into buildings where he thought he'd find women of the like. But alas, he'd continue leaping without satisfaction, without stopping.

His messy search had ascended into something far more organized as he made way further into the heart of the town, which smelled of fish and all things seafood. It was an odorous stench that Ahote figured only a small group of people could indulge in. Somehow, Iris and Aeluri came to mind when he resolved this.

Olivia Sutton, a local legend and retired mage. Ahote had never met too many folks who acquired such an age and wondered how frail they might've been when so old. Could they walk on their own, or would their bones crumble to smithereens at a touch maybe a wee too forceful? The sound a breaking bone wasn't one unfamiliar to him, but the snapping, cracking noise only reduced his body to trembles and shivers. While wondering this thought, he couldn't help but ponder his own preference in a killing. Ahote tried to reminisce the many occasions in which bloodshed was a prevalent part of the mission, but each time he remembered only doing it in the easiest way possible for him and his companions. There wasn't an ounce of anger, joy, or anything in between he could attach to those simple, dull images - only indifference. He did what was conventional, and yet Veronika and Ambrosia's implied methods always drew him closer to asking just what they did, and what he could do to participate. His complexion blanched at the thought as a sullen smile stretched his lips, disgust swirling in his own eyes.

Regardless, he was hired by a rather bitter man to assassinate her. The client was only strong enough to slip out of his bed to totter to his chair, where he would sit, exhausted. He'd hack and wheeze strainingly as if every breath threatened to cough up his lungs and his skin sagged against his bones like nothing were filling his wrinkled cheeks. The man was all skin and bones but his wet, cerulean eyes burned with rage and his tongue wiggled with a taste for vengeance. Ahote remembered sitting across from him in his rather inconspicuous home, where only he and two or three maids served him where he'd spent most of his breaths detailing their uninteresting past together.

Ahote's client strived to be an overlord of the criminal underworld, like any aspiring ne'er-do-well, but ultimately failed in his journey to do so by the hands of Olivia Sutton, who he described to be horribly unattractive and loud, and went into hiding the rest of his life. It was an awfully tiring story and so predictable that Ahote's mind began to wander mid-sentence. If anything, his thoughts were shrouded with a desire to go home or just how "personal" he should make the assassination. With an only half-finished story in mind, the raven-haired serpent set off to kill this woman, and maybe for a bite to eat.

Moments passed the and pitter-pattering of his rushing feet against the smooth Hargeon Town rooftops were washed away underneath booms of laughter and passionate advertising from desperate merchants. Gazing over a chimney, town square could be seen bustling with joy and noise.

Ahote looked about the groups of people huddling together like sheep, except some were examining the sea's goods and others some tacky jewelry from foreign lands. But among these people, not one of them was the obnoxiously loud and awfully unattractive miss Olivia Sutton. In fact, the oldest person there was in their early fifties at most. But with the soles of his feet aching and the rooftops now suddenly becoming uncomfortable against his loafers, Ahote leaped down from the height and entered the plaza through a stygian alleyway.

His tar black jacket along with his traditionally colored vest-suit underneath made him like oil in the snow, yet no person seemed to care enough to pay him any attention besides a glance, and he returning those same occasional looks. He ambled through the crowd with both hands tucked snugly into warm, dry pockets.

WC: 1,012/4,500
Notes: https://www.fairytail-rp.com/t13669-assasination-contract-olivia-sutton

Ahote kept his head down as he made way through the hordes of people crowding the streets. Some flocked around a brown-skinned merchant with thin, unconnected strands of hair he called a mustache along with some fuzz covering his chin, all marveling at the tacky gems he showered with encomiums. The raven man stopped to look at the middle-aged women all debating which gem to purchase with a sympathetic smile, yet he could not stop himself from wondering if anyone from home would want a souvenir. His expression changed at the question, suddenly remembering that the only souvenirs they could appreciate were too unique for him to obtain willy-nilly. Some slimier than others.

On the other hand, another horde of people, both men and women, swarmed around the stands who boasted about their fresh fish that was arguably so fresh it twitched as if it were still alive. There were booths that sold fish sticks, fish heads, fish soups, and an assortment of other seafood. Most of the men were burly or somewhat stocky with thick, curly beards and short shocks of hair. Their foreheads glistened with an autumn sweat as they poked and prodded the fresh products while the women, who were just as burly, made chipper conversation with the merchants. Ahote couldn't help involuntarily listening in on their conversations as he passed by, weaving through the crowds.

The raven man buried his face in the black coat that wrapped around him as hunched over himself, almost trying to make himself smaller. But with his shimmering topaz pools gazing fixedly at his shuffling feet, it was only a matter of time before his dexterity failed him. A thudding sound shuddered within him as he bumped into something. A pale hand jumped from his pocket to his forehead so that the metal digits might soothe the aching with smooth rubs, but before he could raise his head to face to the poor fellow who bumped into him, the serpent noticed metallic boots equally as magnificent as his prosthetic arm.

"Sorry about that." The voice of a man combined with the sound of metal clicking against each other made it clear just who he was talking to. Ahote sighed and screwed his face together, not raising his face to meet the other.  The armor was far too familiar for him not to notice that the man before him was a Rune Knight, and with a face so infamous and recognizable as his own, it was a harbinger for trouble.

Is this some kind of warning? Ahote thought to himself.
WC: 1,440/4,500
Notes: https://www.fairytail-rp.com/t13669-assasination-contract-olivia-sutton