Clip clops heralded the arrival of the carriage.
A massive clydesdale drew it along and it was driven by a hunched man whose features were enshrouded by a hooded cloak. The cart was compact, inky, and illuminated only by a pair of swinging lamps that had been filled with light-bugs from the previous dawn. Silver lines of enchanted runes outlined the bottom rim while the wheel's spokes showed the iron lines of precious metals had been included during their forging.
Zaphora stood calmly as she waited for the carriage to halt. Her gloved hands lay clasped atop the dull bevel of her waist as a iron colored, tightly fitted, dress hugged her frame. The garb exposed her slender shoulders, delicate neck, and gentle curve of her back before it pleasantly defined her hips. A keyhole in the front revealed the layout of her navel up to the barest beginnings of her under-breast. Simple heels had been slipped about her feet and they easily held up against the soft moss of the ground she stood upon.
Little of her form was left to the imagination; save for her face. A shiny mask made of treated wood and polished with various oils made the stained material appear as black as her own hair. Tasteful strings looped within her locks to hold the item on her features. Only one eye, the side of her graceful nose, and half of her charcoal lipsticked mouth could be distinguished from the petrified state of it's masked twin beside it.
Meanwhile, the clydesdale gave a misted snort in the dark forest air. The beast recognized the girl and was quick to turn to see if she had any treats to give it like last time. A morsel of a carrot was produced from her small bag and it was soon happily munching on it in a content way. The driver of the carriage leaned towards her from his perch. Nothing of his form, or features, could ever be distinguished. One hand held the reins while the other jutted northward in a questioning way.
Zaphora nodded. A few steps later and the carriage doors opened of its own accord. Mechanical steps made rickety sounds while they extended to the ground to allow her to enter the unoccupied seats within. The moment she was settled it cued the steps to retract, the door to close, and the interior of her velvet surroundings to only be illuminated by the bare moonlight.
The cracking of a whip, another snort of the clydesdale, and she was off to enjoy the evening's party.
---------------
For three years Korst had toiled to get finally get an invitation.
He fought the urge to pace nervously in front of the massively grown, hollowed, and refurbished tree that had been halfway felled centuries ago. It had held an entire civilization within it at some point indicated by the many ruins and statues that had been discovered some time later. Now? It was a place that the powers Korst worked for had taken for their own, and made into an artistic venue.
It was the suggestion of his father that he take up a more lucrative profession, after his time as a scribe had been met with a head injury that prevented him from some fine motor skills. Who he now worked for, the Organization, rewarded those willing to delve into the territory of murder, espionage, and high theft with handsomely created exhibits such as this.
The only problem? An internal power struggle within the Organization had left his love-partner with a bad case of death, and he was soon missing his chance at his just reward; unless he could find someone to loop his arm with in order to enter. The exhibit was designed to be enjoyed by couples and the masks were always mandatory to maintain anonymity; though those who had survived within the Organization long enough could recognize others after a while. Regardless, Korst was new, and he was becoming more uneasy as the moon started to reach the point where the door guard would cast a sealing enchantment around the entrance. No one else could enter after that point, though those already within could leave freely at any time.
His threads were sharp and had been purchased after his last heist of precious jewelry had been overwhelmingly successful. Deeply greened tones made up his vest which sat over a long sleeved silken black shirt. His pants were of complimentary design, with a green pinstripe down the sides, and his boots glistened with freshly oiled sleekness. His mask covered only the upper half of his face, typical of the male members, to clasp just below his cheekbones on either side. Dusty blonde hair needed to be tucked or tended constantly in order to not drift too far into his eye line from where he looked out into the world behind his anonymous helm.
As the last carriage of the night trotted away he could barely register the sounds of soft feet behind him. He had lost his opportunity to enjoy this venue. He would have to wait another few months before--
"Korst. Everything all right?"
A tender arm wrapped about the small of his back as the scent of lavender reached him. Startled, he twitched and looked to see who had attached himself to him in such a friendly way.
"Zaphora." He said with as much neutrality as he could after being so easily identified. "So much for anonymity."
"You're out here standing around like a frightened child. What, did your love-mate have a headache this evening?" Her words were laced with sarcastic humor that made Korst's stomach bubble from within.
"Yes a permanent one. Seems people don't last too long in the land of the living when they get shot through the eye." Korst put on a good show of respect; but he suspected that Zaphora herself had been the one to commit the coup de grâce that ultimately ended his partner's life.
"Such a shame. Come along, then." Her words dismissed whatever else they might discuss as she urged him forward with a press to his back. It was an unspoken gesture that she was willing to be considered his new love-mate from that point on.
Suddenly, Korst didn't really fancy the thought of taking a new partner. Not her, at least; especially if she had been a part of the power coup that put him in this situation in the first place. Still, there was a game that you needed to play once joining the Organization. What better place than here? What better time to start then now? It wasn't a coincidence that she had showed up alone. Was he being played? Or was she offering the opportunity to move up in status with her newfound position? Unease dribbled from his words though he didn't allow it to make his voice appear none genuine. "All right."
