Cleo quickly trots over to Grasel's hovel. The woman was called a witch by all the villagers, as every single aspect about her shows off as a witch. Starting from her lank gray hair always up in a messy, what was supposed to be a chignon; to her startling hazel eyes which were always filled with intelligence and thought and all the way down to her attire which Cleo could always see from the metal grate through the door was a long ash-coloured cloak. A witch indeed Cleo thought to herself.

The witches home —located behind all the Markets looks like the rest of the other meagre homes —all made themselves from ruined antique pieces of building that was discarded by the marketers, thus causing the exterior to look completely broken down. These rural areas called Beggar Area, are set more off for the paupers. It's these who didn't want to contribute towards the Village that were located behind everyone else, very close to the farms seen in the distance where the farmers grow and plant crops for food. Most beggars abide here along with the rest of the sketchy people which Cleo could rid of but won't as these are Grasel's people and where will Cleo get her new stash? These areas at this stage means the most to Cleo.

As Cleo makes a step towards Grasel's home, the most heavily guarded home out of them all; she pauses and hides behind a ruined wall, which belonged to some beggars as she could hear their drunken selves chanting the song Drunken Sailor awfully. But at least they are distracted which is good for her.

She does a sweep of the area. There was no trellis separating the Markets from Beggar Area as this was an illiputian of uselessness and is known as the bad part of the Markets.

Opposite the wall from where she was hid was the Urchin and Crustacean Market —where all the sea objects like shells and seafoods were sold right at the end of the whole Market area, where sailors won't have to travel far distances to elicit a bewildering amount of sea accouterments, and then sold to the consumers. This Market could easily be her most favourite. There is something about the sea that evokes utter peace within her.

Before Cleo gets caught she decides to move. She discreetly reaches Grasels place. She pulls her hood lower over her face especially her eyes and makes sure her braid is tugged under her shirt before reaching the door.

°°°

Grasel made Cleo enter her home for the first time in Cleo's life. Cleo stalled at that, her mind racing with what kind of trap this may be but when Grasel saw Cleos face she chuckled and merely said that her opiates weren't ready yet. Cleo then released a breath she didn't realize she was holding in and gave in.

Inside the iron-guarded hovel was a rather cosy interior, contrasting the ghastly facade of the other slums-like makeshift homes. The dim room contains a small dining room -worn couches placed against the dark walls surrounding low-lying tables crowded with various herbs, powders and potions and vials filled to the brim with a myriad of different coloured liquids. And on the walls were floating shelves crammed with an ample amount of more potions and vials. Cleo knew the majority of them were drugs. It was Grasel's daily errand. Her source of income.

In the center of the room; inlaid in the ground was a furnace; above it containing a cauldron— the scent of whatever was in there alleviating Cleo's belly to turn over. At the the back of room were several doors leading to other rooms which Cleo could only presume were the bedrooms or more brewing rooms. It seemed that Grasel doesn't stay by herself as well. She is shocked. Two mugs were sitting on the table with two plates of food, the scraps left of it. Yet Cleo never saw or met this other person during her times of purchasing opium. Perhaps it's her husband.

Cleo continues gazing around the home, despite the heat outside the home was lovely, the furnace did increase the temperature drastically but Cleo wasn't bothered at all, she wouldn't be long anyway. She still enjoys the warm loving atmosphere manifesting from here.

"Have a seat girl. My apologies for the delay, I have been quite assiduous with many other patrons all desperately seeking their weeds but yours will come in a few minutes don't worry." Grasel grins showing her yellowing teeth.

Girl. Grasel called her girl. Cleo nearly forgot about her actual authority and how Grasel was completely blinded by who she actually was. She thought Cleo was a stupid little girl seeking pleasures from weeds and wasting her life away like the rest of the beggars when she is actually doing the opposite. Well only the latter -not wasting her life away.

Cleo pretends to understand, "Of course aunt Grasel I completely understand. Do take your time." She returns the smile. But hers was fake. She was worried about Jezio.

Cleo takes a seat on the couch and gazes into the cauldron bubbling from the heat of the furnace; it looked like poison. A yellow poison, like her teeth, perhaps she is making liquid teeth.

"Thank you dearie, I will ask Mira to bring it to you. The usual?" Grasel raises her eyebrows in question. Mira. Not her husband. Her daughter? Her thoughts died out at seeing Grasel's face.

She was definitely a magnificent woman when she was younger. Her face although has now many lines and wrinkles is still so beautiful Cleo can't help but admire how breath-taking she was. Her hazel eyes were glowing from the fires of the furnace and her hair is still in its usual messy chignon, her body never exposing a single part of her skin except for her chest, was clad in a long gray robe brushing the musty floor. And still Cleo thought she looked beautiful. She really adored Grasel there were never disputes when it came to their dealing and Cleo could only wish to have more people like her in her Court. Maybe she should reveal who she was and offer her Landons place? He can do her paperwork instead.

"Yes." Cleo replies after a heartbeat.

Grasel nods and mutters something under her breath before making her way through one of the doorways and out of sight. Leaving Cleo alone in the room. Was this safe? Couldn't Cleo pilfer some potions and sell them herself for coin to the beggars? Grasel might just burn her in the poisonous cauldron. Leaving her completely unattended with plenty sell-worthy brews needs trust. Lots and lots of trust. Cleo doesn't know how she has gained it. She's a beggar herself in Grasels eyes.

Cleo sighs and leans back on the worn couch and crosses her thighs over one another and places her hands over them; dark smudges stain her hands evidence from what she did to the old man who blatantly told her she would die. Cleo felt so enraged she nearly killed the man but took deep thought into it and decided not to. She was not a killer, she was an Elemental.

She put both hands under her thighs attempting to rub the soot off from her hands before Jezio sees, and he will question her. Using her powers in the Village was a high risk. Any easy way to get caught leaving the Court and her reputation with shame. But the damn soot just didn't want to leave her fingers. Flashes of the old man screaming his lungs out darts her vision the way he-

"Welcome! Apologies for taking up your time. But here are your... Herbs." The girl laughs quietly. This must be Mira.

Mira is just as magnificent as Grasel but there were no given traits from Grasel to Mira. Maybe she was an orphan?

Mira tries looking beneath her hood hovering very slightly over Cleos eyes causing her to nearly growl out. Grasel never questioned where Cleo was from, why she looked so mysterious nor tried peeking under her fucking hood. She kept silent, she understood one's circumstances having that airy personality of hers. Someone like her caused one to instantly savor Grasel, seeking her help, even if it is just to talk it out. Cleo would be perturbed if anything were to happen to Grasel. Yet this one... Grasel clearly never taught her anything about good etiquette.

Cleo got up and grasps the herbs out of the Mira's hand keeping her head low whilst moving them to the velvet pouch.

"Thank you." She hands Mira the coin and turns to leave until Mira calls her back.

"What happened to your hands?"

Cleo freezes, her back facing Mira. Fuck. Her hands.

She could wash them in a nearby fountain before meeting Jezio.

"Nothing." Cleo turns to her lifting her head slightly but not enough for her eyes to be exposed.

"Are you certain? It seems quite..." She falters before continuing again, "Mind if I have a look? In case it's heavily damaged?" Mira didn't await her response and immediately walks towards Cleo her eyes focused on her charred hands.

Cleo pulls her hands away roughly. "They're fine. Just needs to be washed. Do you have soap and water?"

Mira simply stares at her and without a word leaves the room, heading towards the same room where Grasel left.

Cleo waits a few heartbeats but after hearing no activity she takes this as her cue to leave. But before she could Grasel emanates out from the back,"Oh dearie wait, Mira told me about your hands. Is everything alright?" She makes her way towards Cleo.

Cleo nearly screeches out loud from annoyance.

"Yes, everything is perfect. I just have to go now." Grasel nods her head and continues.

"If you do need anything, I am here, so is Mira, she's a lovely girl. Always willing to assist." She smiles warmly at Cleo.

Cleo only nods. She needs to leave. Now. She couldn't care less about the remarkably pretty girl named Mira. Nor what she does, she just wanted to leave. Cleo could tell that the girl was already suspicious about her, especially the long glances at her attire and hands. And she didn't need this happening. Not now. Not ever.

Mira returns with a bucket, steam rising up from it and places it on the table where Cleo went to sit again after Grasel entered the room.

"Here's some soap and water." She pipes.

As if Cleo couldn't see there was soap and water in front of her.

Grasel glances at her hands with a frown on her face, "Dearie, your hands don't look injured. It's just soot. Have you been playing with charcoal perhaps?" Grasel laughs and says something about children still playing with dirt these days.

Grasel was also so canny she knew the difference between what an injury was and what wasn't. She still didn't question however,  Cleo thanked her in her mind. But it was more reason for Mira to be suspicious.

"Yes, I was cleaning the fireplace and forgot to clean my hands." She lies. "It's always that remaining parts that refuses to be swept up. It's infinite, so I used my hands."

Cleo feels more at ease. Grasel seems to understand and didn't question more, "Well, go ahead clean your hands. We won't keep you up any longer, have a good day and I hope I see you again." She smiles warmly again, and Cleo is still awestruck by how this woman dealt illegal powders and vials. This beautiful woman. One couldn't tell. She still said, hope to see you again in a way that said dealing opiates were normal.

Grasel is out of the room once again leaving Mira and herself alone. Cleo ignores Mira's presence and resorts to washing her hands with the lemon-scented soap. Cleo looks up slightly to Mira and catches her gazing at Cleo already. If Cleo were alone with Mira and Grasel was somewhere else in the Market, she would of flamed Mira immediately. 

Cleo decides to seize the girl up as well, from her thick brown luscious hair falling in curling tendrils down her back, completely loose to her soft golden face and skin. Her eyes the colour of dark amber reminded Cleo of honey. She wore tight brown breeches and a blue cotton long-sleeved shirt -—the outfit of a brewer Cleo must admit.

Cleo hates the fact that their heights are matching, she couldn't make Mira feel small or perhaps declare a brawl on her.

"Thank you." Cleo whirls around, and races to the iron door. Drying her hands on her pants.

"Wait!"

Cleo groans this time loudly. What did the bitch want now?

"What's your name?" She gives Cleo a look, a look Cleo didn't understand.

"Cary."

Mira nods and crosses her arms and legs from where she leans against a table, her gaze falling to the wall behind her, "Are you coming to the Market festival? I'll bring opium, perhaps we could have some fun?" Mira grins slyly. A grin that is always up to no good. It nearly made Cleo want to agree without a second thought. How pathetic. Inviting Cleo to a festival to devour weeds.

"No, I have certain duties to attend to. I don't have time for a festival. Thank you again but I must take my leave." Cleo turns for the hundredth time and makes her leave.

"That's a pity, you seemed like the fun kind. The rebel kind. If you want to come though, we can meet at the Crystal waters, I'll be there. Just after sundown." Mira calls out as Cleo retreats without answering her.

                                          °°°

The Crystal waters? Cleo asks herself, after dodging passerbys, crossing from building to building as she makes her way back to the Market area towards the tavern where Jezio resides. The Crystal waters? The one fountain that could scorch? Maybe this was some scheme to get Cleo to reveal herself, having assassins lingering in the dark and once Cleo is cornered against the fountain will they lunge out and attack her with rigor and then  tear her hood and clothes apart. What a low blow.

Cleo wrinkles her nose. Now is not the time to overthink, she should habitually inhibit these thoughts before she burns the entire Village down.

It was nearly sunset. How did time pass by so quickly? Cleo's heart starts thumping faster. She is in trouble, Jezio might be looking for her, she can imagine him, hands tugging his hair, pacing up and down dreading whatever news will come his way about her. Cleo chuckles despite the situation —at the thought of him being worrisome. Jezio wasn't the type to fret and be unhinged, no, his persona was quite the opposite, having him be agitated about something is quite entertaining.

Cleo finally stands before The Lattice tavern, the tavern as per usual is frenzied with drunks and whores. The whole Market area has fallen tranquil, less villagers and manoevre. Most workers being attained with the days work— finally returned home to their bungalows. The quiet demeanor of the Market contrasts to the taverns. All the taverns: The Cross, The Hammer, The Manhole —were open until midnight, as drinking yourself to sleep was a good way; according to workers; to rest and start the new day. Cleo can't argue with that fact. Everyone needs a break sometime.

Cleo ushers inside the tavern. The room is so hot and stuffy, that the wooden doors are kept asunder to allow fresh air to take over.
She promptly sweeps the rather busy room filled with old men groping women's thighs and breasts whilst chugging down rum and ale; women half naked dancing excitedly on top of tables grabbing coin from men's pockets, not realizing that they're being seduced and robbed; then there are the subdued ones —who does nothing but watch and drink. They are always the leery ones.

Yet, there was no sign of Jezio.

She then lounges past the packed room flashing a teethy smile to a nearby bald man and towards the back in which the escalier will lead to Jezios room, but before she bounds up the steps, strong warm male arms grasps her waist tightly from behind and muzzles his warm mouth into her neck.

She knew this scent, spices and mint. Although bread took over his usual scent. Jezio. She could already tell, she knew those arms. Those muscled arms that she at times can't help herself but to gaze at them.

She loves the feel of his arms around her, and tilts her head back against his chest allowing him better access to her neck.

She hears him chuckle, his breath heating her already hot skin. Cleo knew that him holding her so intimately was not because he wanted to, but because it will draw less attention to them. Although Cleo... She still loved it.

"Now, Miss Cleo before I scorch you this time. Let's begin with telling me where the fuck you were?" He seethes it into her ear.