McIan
Journeyman
Brimming with pride and confidence, having received a superior rating from his superiors for recent achievements and ideas, Malikai took to his new task with dedicated enthusiasm. It was an easy one, at least for now. His mark was a human female, new to the scene, and as he immediately discerned, quite lovely and composed. Perched high on the limb of a peach tree within the courtyard of Sanctuary, he watched her when she came outside the main building. She did so, often, mainly to sit on a bench beside the Koi pond to watch them or sometimes sing. He took in every aspect of her being: hair, face, movements, apparel – everything he would need to identify her and make decisions accordingly, to fulfill his master’s wishes regarding her.
He was certain she never noticed the fox squirrel form that he had taken as he sat motionless and silent. It was not time to reveal himself to her; that must come as an “accident” in a few days. And he may decide to try his ferret form instead, though this one was certainly less threatening.
She sang songs that he did not recognize but could understand, extolling the praises and virtues of some person – a heroine perhaps – or a deity named Concordia. He voice was mesmerizingly melodic, wonderous, flawlessly on-key and, at times, moving. A pang of angst struck him as he realized she might be in danger – not from him, assassination was not his fare nor forte, but from those whose employ he served. And that would be tragic.
He shook off the thoughts immediately as his professionalism took hold again. He had a job to do and do well and he would not fail. He never failed.
As he watched her, another person exited the building, a white-haired, bearded, man dressed in a gold robe and cape. He asked permission to sit with her and she kindly agreed. The two began talking about their religion, as he determined the topic to be, and he called her, “Malissin” once.
She was the one for certain then, and soon he would find a way to enter her life and fulfill his mission… if only he could put the singing out of his memory.
He was certain she never noticed the fox squirrel form that he had taken as he sat motionless and silent. It was not time to reveal himself to her; that must come as an “accident” in a few days. And he may decide to try his ferret form instead, though this one was certainly less threatening.
She sang songs that he did not recognize but could understand, extolling the praises and virtues of some person – a heroine perhaps – or a deity named Concordia. He voice was mesmerizingly melodic, wonderous, flawlessly on-key and, at times, moving. A pang of angst struck him as he realized she might be in danger – not from him, assassination was not his fare nor forte, but from those whose employ he served. And that would be tragic.
He shook off the thoughts immediately as his professionalism took hold again. He had a job to do and do well and he would not fail. He never failed.
As he watched her, another person exited the building, a white-haired, bearded, man dressed in a gold robe and cape. He asked permission to sit with her and she kindly agreed. The two began talking about their religion, as he determined the topic to be, and he called her, “Malissin” once.
She was the one for certain then, and soon he would find a way to enter her life and fulfill his mission… if only he could put the singing out of his memory.