A Raider, A Devil and A Heiress Walk Into A Bar... [Lucky & Dlaks]

"I don't care how young I look to you. Do you have it or don't you?"

In a particularly dubious corner of the Goron Slums lies a peculiar tavern; an infamous hangout spot for the rough, unscrupulous roguish agents of lawlessness. The persistence of restless chatter and clanking glass reverberates within the rundown establishment as the social activity of the most shady of characters large and small fills nearly every creaking stool and rotting table. The pungent mixing aromas of ale and milk fill the atmosphere accompanied by the rowdy laughter of the intoxicated. Sitting at the tavern's counter was a new face--the Rupee-eyed Raider herself--dressed in her voluminous cloak, watching as the Goron bartender leers at her with suspicion before giving a brief shrug. Rupees were placed on the table, and large hands readily collect them.

"You want it? It's yours. Hope you enjoy it."

Slapped down before Levia was a bottle of the creamy, milky delight of Chateau Romani. With a satisfied smirk, she grips the bottle and raises them to her lips. "Much obliged, big guy," she says, taking a sip of the potent beverage. After a day like today, she could use a refreshing drink. Sneaking her way into Castle-Town is no small feat. And it would only become more difficult when she runs the errand of freeing a fellow bandit from prison. Sleek, the infamously dashing rogue of the Fortress of Thieves with a specialty in smuggling and long time friend of Levia's has finally managed to be arrested and locked away. Though impatient with his carelessness, his invaluable skills made it inexcusable to leave him in such a time of need. Besides, she could not bring herself to deny such a plea when she received a wooden trinket infused with a telepathic message the day before bringing herself to the capital of Hyrule...

It had been a long time since the Raider had seen Castle-Town. She had not been for nearly two years, but it had not seemed to change much. Levia had but one memory of this city; a faithful encounter she could never hope to forget. She could recall almost everything as clear as day--running into a woman with eyes as green and her own as she desperately sought to escape pursuing thief-takers. She remembers her terrible lie that sounded foolish even then. She remembers the devilish grin flashing across the woman's face as her cape was plucked from her person without warning and fleeing just as quickly. She even remembers being shoved headlong into a full trough of Cucco feed.

Levia could not help but shudder at the thought. Without her cape, she could blend into a crowd easier and escape her pursuers. But with her accident came new pursuers. Cuccos. Hungry, agitated, frightening Cuccos. She ran for hours that day. The next day, she received a message; a crumpled slip of paper that now struck her a grim reminder: "U Owe Me." Though she is grateful of her assistance even now, Levia hoped she would never have the displeasure of that woman's company again. The thought of owing someone was torment on the mind, but as long as they were to never meet, Levia would not have to feel so guilty. At least, that's what she thought...

The morning sun simmered unseen underneath Hyrule’s horizon. Now was the season of Nayru, wisely casting the land in an icy shawl. So the earth may have reprieve in time for Farore’s season, and Din’s might be all the more welcome. While an omnipresent chill masked the sun’s warmth, this dawn was no less radiant than any other. A single ray, tinged peach by the early hour, found its way to a small alley in the great metropolis of Castle-Town. There, it weaved through the cobblestone walls, under an ancient bridge, and kissed the closed eyes of one Lister Maupin. With a twitch, a jerk, and a final desperate flutter, they opened, revealing the venomous green eyes within. She sits upright at once, taking in her surroundings, and coming to the conclusion that this most certainly is not her room at the Llangollen estate, and that she had certainly not been intoxicated enough to somehow sleepwalk through its locked door. Well, not quite that intoxicated, but she likely had been close. In her desperation to ignore the angry Dondongo pounding away at her temple, she took in the rest of her surroundings. The alleyway was open, but Lister’s body had been obscured by a number of old crates and pots, which had been left there since Goddesses knows how long. Once she had her feet and wits about her, the woman would have little issue climbing over the refuse and making her way back to… Anne!

At once, intuition bade her to face the alley’s end. Upon heeding it, she saw dear Anne Llangollen tucked into the niche’s corner, her family shield and saber clutched tightly to her breast. The memories soon came flooding back; the failed cure, the link they now shared, the unforgivable secret, and the hands clamped tightly about her throat. The hands had belonged to some unknown assailant, evidently hired to ensure Lister never cured Anne of their now symbiotic affliction. Tracing the purplish-green bruise already fading about the nape of her neck, other memories, hazy and weak, danced across her emerald vision. There was Anne, sundering the ironwood door, her ill-gifted power curdling the thick metal hinge like milk. The masked assailants eyes had grown wide, before the Heiress’s next strike nearly rended them from his skull. Lister had begun to pass out by then, but she could still feel Anne’s arms, delicate yet sturdy, pull her from the sheets.

“You foolish girl,” Lister hissed, clearing the memories from her eyes, and focusing her full attention toward the quivering patient, “What have you done?” Anne did not immediately reply, and instead nervously gripped the saber, her great uncle’s saber, by the hilt. As if fearing a strike from the Devilish woman’s very gaze, the girl used an equally storied, battle-worn shield to obscure her own bespectacled azure eyes. Lister immediately softened, as she had come to always do when Anne became distressed, and stooped low. A thin hand, the color of chestnuts and cream, wrapped in a delicious crimson cuff, gently cupped the timid child by the chin. “Please,” Lister implored. The Llangollen studied her own reflection in Lister’s pupils for what seemed an age, before her quivering lips at last parted. “It happened so fast, Lis. I rushed downstairs and laid you in the foyer, the one overlooking the garden, and made way to alert the guards.” She began, her voice quiet and dry. Anne had been crying.

“I passed the study as I ran. The door was open, mother and father were there,” She paused, choking back something thick and putrid, before continuing, “It was late, so late. They never stay up so long into in night, you know that Lis. Yet, there they were, fully dressed. Waiting to speak with someone. Waiting to speak to the man who killed you.” Anne’s sadness subsided slightly, and became something darker, something dangerous. “Before the first lie left their lips, I turned back and found you again. The guards stood in the way, but great uncle Nobilis’s mementos were on the foyer wall… so I used them to escape.” She finished, curling up even tighter into herself. From the confines of a self-made cocoon, a wet “Why?” was asked, over and over.

Lister had an idea as to ‘why’ the Llangollens had done what they did, the cowards. It was the truth, the terrible truth, and the very same truth Lister would never burden Anne with. Better to leave the Heiress to ponder the impossible, than to comprehend it. In that aspect, she was a coward too. Sitting next to the small woman, Lister decided she had enough of tears. With an exaggerated sigh, she said, “Only you could make besting a man bare handed, fending off attackers with steel, defying your entire family line, all whilst while carrying an unconscious maiden over your shoulder, sound as if it was a bad thing.” A thin smile flashed over Anne’s raven-framed features, and the tension in her purple-dressed shoulders relaxed. “Not that anyone else will know about it,” she admitted, “A herald was calling in the square just outside this alley. Apparently, I’ve been kidnapped by you.”

It was now Lister’s turn to smile, that was evidently the Llangollen family’s idea of saving face. She stood at once, smoothing the dirt from her clothing, and thankful she had never been one for nightgowns. “You should be honored, I only kidnap the cute ones,” she whispered, and was rewarded with a small giggle. The Devil woman was on a roll today. “I don’t know why they suddenly changed their mind about me curing your curse, our curse,” Lister lied, “but know it can be done, should we find a way out of Castle-Town and back to my journals. I’ve got a number of them all about my haunts in Hyrule. I know at least one of them will have a recipe for a spell or two that will sort all this out,” she concluded, extending her hand to Anne. For only a moment, the younger woman hesitated, then took it with confidence. “First, we need to get supplies. Along with a new set of clothes for you. The ‘sword and smock’ look is not very fetching,” she decided, and the duo ventured out into the steadily filling square.

Going about such a bustling area unseen was impossible, so the trick was to not linger. It may have been a while since they had any use, but Lister’s fingers were as sticky as ever. It was but a few hours before the nearby bazaar was down a number of wares, none the wiser. Another one of Castle-Town’s many nooks provided privacy for Anne to change, and for Lister to take account of their newly acquired belongings. “I don’t suppose any of your inheritance was in the foyer?” she quipped, wishing that a bazar’s moneybox was as poorly watched as their second-hand backpacks. “I was too busy saving a surprisingly heavy Devil,” Anne retorted. Bemused, Lister asked, “Was that wit just now?” To which the Heiress merely answered, “Frustration.”

Soon after, Anne emerged in her appropriated garments, which were appropriately ugly for the life ahead of them. Save for her purple cloak, a sole signifier of noble bearing. Lister wondered if Anne would let her sell it, should they become desperate enough. Securing the shield to her back, and the saber about her waist, Anne slung her own pack over one shoulder. “How are we going to leave without the Castle-Watch taking register, we can’t have the family following us all about Hyrule, and it’s only a matter of time before they check every street,” she said, nervously rubbing the rim of her glasses. With a measured tone, Lister responded, “Well, seems like none of my contacts are in-town during this season, and we don’t have the money or the trust to spare on hiring someone, but it appears the Goddesses have gifted us with a bit o’ providence,” and handed Anne a flyer the older woman had swiped from a nearby bulletin. In large print, the words Wanted: Levia the Rupee-eyed Raider had been printed, along with an accompanying artist's rendition. Lister flashed a grin worthy of her nickname, and the Devil elaborated further, “Turns out there is someone in town who owes me a favor.”

It took ten taverns and an entire day to find the patch-eye rogue, not at all helped by the painstaking caution the duo employed to be sure they were not followed. Once or twice, Anne could have swore she saw a man in a stark white cape observing them from a distance. When they did at last locate the raider, who was currently nursing a bottle of Romani with a sleepy abandon, the night was but two crows from the witching hour. Lister had since explained her plan to Anne many times, but doubt was already creeping into the raven-haired maiden’s mind. “Won’t this start it off on the wrong leg? She needs to like us,” the heiress implored. Lister made a ‘shoosh’ motion with her fingers, and bade Anne stay close as the Devil snuck up on their prey. “Shouldn’t let her know quite how desperate we are, better for her to think we have means. Besides, first impressions should be memorable, not pleasant,” she whispered back, and gave the signal.

On cue, Anne tilted Levia’s chair back at a sharp angle, causing the hookshot ace to panic slightly, and spill her drink to the floor. Before she could properly react, Lister’s visage came into view mere centimeters away from hers. “Hello again,” said the Devil, “I’m here about that favor I payed you some time ago.” Anne, for her part, worriedly, looked about the room, only to see that not a single patron seemed to have any interest in the antics unfolding before them. Apparently, they felt more inclined to keep indulging their vices, instead of bothering with someone else's issues. Anne was at least thankful that their ‘mark’ could not currently see her supporting the chair’s awkward position. Lister would be terribly cross if Anne started apologizing for the inconvenience while she ‘made friends’ with the raider. Lister, for her part, was also nervous, nervous that she would not be able to work a miracle from this fool's hope. There were very few things Lister could not stand to lose, and Anne’s faith was one of them. She’d wring cooperation from this Levia, and she’d use every tactic at her disposal to do it.
“Well?” Lister mused, peering even closer, “Do you remember me or not, Cucco girl?”

With each moment of terrible memory, Levia sought to drown such unpleasant thoughts with her milky beverage. With each sip, the task at hand gradually slipped from the status of urgency and any will to move completely abandoned the bandit. With her last sip, Levia gives a deep sigh of exhaustion as her eyes resisted her, sinking lower like curtains over an emerald green-tinted window. "Maybe a nap won't hurt," Levia mused in her inhibition, lazily hanging her head low, "Just a...quick snooze..."

The swift pull of her chair shattered her sleepy disposition and replaced it with stress and fear. A shriek escapes Levia's throat as gravity steals all control from her, muscles tensing in panic and hands desperately groping for some form of leverage to safety, toppling her Chateau Romani and spilling the remaining contents across the counter and onto the floor. Though she expected to hit the floor, the young thief found herself awkwardly lying in an uncomfortably angled position and could not see much other than the ceiling. That changes as swiftly as she was robbed of relaxation, as a familiar face greets her with a devilish grin.

Speak of the Devil and she shall appear. In her moment of shock, Levia refused this to be the same woman she was just dreading not a few minutes ago. Instincts dictated escape, but at this compromising position, it wouldn't be difficult to catch her before she got far. Retaliation didn't seem viable either; drawing local attention to this tavern could end with her sharing Sleek's fate in prison. The only other option was to feign ignorance. There was a chance, Levia hoped, that this was not the same woman she was thinking of and has mistaken the raider for someone else. Those thoughts are immediately dashed. Cucco girl. She knew what had happened. This was definitely that woman. Disdain fills a glaring eye and saturates her growling tone:

"It's you again. Just my luck..."

“Yes, me,” Lister grinned, using the close proximity to drink in the girl's features. She was pretty, for a rogue, and a muddy tint was suffused about the Raider’s blond hair, which lay loosely against the back of the suspended chair. The nearby hearth’s nurturing glow was reflected in the glossy locks in a rather charming fashion. Her own straw hair, a more burnt shade at the tips, hung from the Devil's ears, and forced the pair to look each other in the eye. For Levia, she had to look through her uncovered eye, which shown a dazzling emerald green. Merely a shade lighter than the Devil’s own. Between the brilliant variations in the iris’s tone, the older woman could swear precious flecks of gold could be seen lining the winsome orb. Though, Lister was never one to get lost in another's eyes. She was far more interested in the faint, yet distinct, lines of scar tissue that accentuated the Raider’s features. Each one told of some wicked skirmish, near escape, or even potential brush with death, and made the Cucco girl all the more beautiful. Lister’s hand clutched the hem of her cerulean her vest, stifling the urge to trace each ghostly cicatrix. It was almost scary, how similar the two women were, which meant Lister would have to be all the more careful in keeping any ‘shenanigans’ from, occurring.

“I admit, I never thought I’d actually cash in that little favor, but here we are,” the Devil began, backing away from Levia slightly, giving the Raider some room with which to process her words. “Who would've thought, soon as I needed it, you’d go back to patrolling the same old haunts! The Goddesses must hold an altogether different kind of favor for me. Oh, how strange and wonderful their whim,” she chuckled, “I must apologize for the rude introduction, but I heard you have quite the penchant for quick escapes. I merely wish for you to feel safe and secure,” she concluded. With a turn of the wrist and sly grin, she made an upwards motion to Anne, who remained just outside of Levia’s view. “Love?” Lister cooed, “Make her feel safe.”

Anne gave a small roll of her eyes, hoping the woman knew what she was doing by laying the ‘intimidation’ on this thick, and stooped low. With a muffled grunt, she deadlifted the entire chair into the air. Whatever game Lister was playing, it better end within the next few minutes, for not even Anne could keep such weight off the ground for very long. Anne was unable to see what kind of reaction the ‘Rupee Eyed Bandit’ was having to being even higher in the air, but Lister’s wide grin meant it was the right one. “I hope we can all get along after this,” the Heiress thought, taking slow, measured breaths, “Lis might find she’ll enjoy another’s company, should she stop burning bridges before they're even built.” The chair shifted to one side a little as Anne adjusted her grip, but she soon held the furniture and its captive perfectly stable. “Poor thing, the both of them. Neither expected to be a part of this situation, part of the danger. If it were not for me…” she mused sadly, unable to finish the thought.

Lister was not ignorant of the distress that shown, plain as day, on her dear patients freckled features. Anne truly was a sweet girl, and there was precious little she didn’t deserve. There was risk, so much risk, in the fool's bet the Devil woman was placing on such a wild mare as Levia. If she really was anything like Lister, the Bandit would not hesitate to wring every last drop of use from the duo. Should the Hookshot Ace ultimately possess even fewer scruples, she could very well end their escape before it ever began. The crimson-clad woman was well experienced with mortal greed, and knew exactly how to quash it. The real trick was making that fact as clear as possible, without actually putting the methods into practice. Usually, this called for the right amount of lies mixed with truth. “We are in a bit of a bind, and need a ride on the first fleet-footed thing out of town,” she explained, her casual voice betraying no desperation, “...WITHOUT the watch taking note. I'm sure the great escapist knows a route or two,” she added, coyly presenting the Raider’s wanted poster. To illustrate her next point, the Devilish woman crushed the page and tossed it to the ground, remarking, “I’m prepared to make it worth your while, or to just... drop the issue.”

That grin. There was very little more distinct, more infamous than that grin; a potent expression of sheer mischief that completely blots out this woman's light of beauty. But in such close proximity with this Lister, Levia noticed something about the older woman, something uncomfortably uncanny. Was she looking in some sort of mirror? Aside from the subtle different shade of hair, eyes, and skin -- and of course the fact that only one of them wore an eye patch -- the Bandit and Devil looked practically identical. If she didn't know better, Levia would almost feel compelled to call her "Sister." There was another detail she picked up on that she just now discovered as urgent. Though she couldn't see much, Lister's hands were clearly off of her person. What was tilting her chair?

A wave of panic washed over her as Levia feels herself lurch upward by a great force kept hidden from her. She flailed her limbs for a moment before scrambling in her chair like a chimp, turning herself, gripping the back of the chair and tucking her legs into her body so that she was facing Lister's direction in the opposite way one should be standing in their seat. "You call this safe?!" Levia cried, daring not to look underneath her suspended prison in fear of falling.

With her attention on the visible brains of what she presumes to be a duo, Levia develops a scowl after learning what she owed. And what a time to have come for it. The Devil calls it a favor from the Goddesses, but she knows it as sheer bad luck. "If you wanted out, you should'a found time to bail a long time ago." the frustrated bandit replies with snark, shuffling uncomfortably to make sure she has balance and does fall from the height she's currently suspended to.

The young Raider's eye widened as Lister flashed her wanted image before her, earning a gasp escaping her lips. In instinct, she reached into her cloak for tools to make an escape, as she was sure that surrounding gazes would take advantage. But it vanishes just as quickly as it was presented, reduced to crumpled trash on the floor. Levia relaxes as the woman promises a reward for her effort, or to drop the issue entirely.

"Listen," Levia states, returning a hand to the chair's back, "You caught me at a bad time. I've got my own business to handle here." Fed up with being airborne, her tone turns sharper with displeasure, "So how about you put me down and buzz off? I don't do favors -- I don't do heights either!"

“Ah, um... “ Lister breathed, unsure how her perfectly constructed threat managed to soar right over the Raider’s blond head. What’s more, she even failed to catch both the sarcasm and wordplay in the ‘drop the issue’ remark. For only a moment, the Devil lost her composition, pressing her thumb and forefinger together against a furled brow. This was not going well, but could still be salvaged. She could do it, she must. It was clear now that her ‘dangerous benefactor’ approach had been in haste, and it was time to switch methods. If the Raider’s sense of self-preservation could not be appealed to, surly her avarice would listen instead. With a sharp inhale, she adjusted the brim of her pointed hat, and looked the suspended quarry over with a disinterested eye.

“Oh, yes. You do seem to be so very terribly busy, sorry for the inconvenience,” Lister mused, tapping the side of her head ponderously. With the same hand, she made a beckoning motion to Anne. Responding to the older woman’s command, the Heiress set the chair back to the earth, perhaps a little too fast. Panting lightly at the exertion, and her face flush with both exhaustion and embarrassment, she nervously sauntered into Levia’s field of view. The younger woman could not bring herself to observe the look on the Hookshot Ace’s face, and so kept her eyes cast to the floor, suddenly quite interested in the glass of spilled milk. She looked as if she might cry over it.

Lister could feel blood pounding in her ears like a great Goron drum, Anne had to be even more worried than she that Levia could not be persuaded. Lister wondered if the raven-haired woman would hate the Devil for failing, just like everyone else before her. Never once had anyone placed so much faith in her, and she felt as if it could shatter at any moment. Worst of all, Lister had seen first hand how used Anne was to being disappointed. “I’m not like them, Anne. You’ll see.” Lister thought, and played her hand. “We’ll just let you get back to your milk, and take our services elsewhere...” she proclaimed, and turned to leave. Taking her quiet companion by the wrist, she made for the tavern exit, before a gentle voice stole all momentum from her legs.

“V-very sorry miss... we will find barter elsewhere. Forgive my friend, she's not been about Castle-Town for a while now,” the Heiress murmured, even chancing a look directly into Levia’s eyes. Hidden in the musky shadows of the pub, an ecstatic grin rippled across Lister’s features. The wonderful girl was actually playing along! Perhaps she’d become a fine devil in her own right. “A year and a day! Dreadfully poetic, and to think I almost missed the smell, but don't bother the busy, busy woman Anne,” she proclaimed, building on the momentum of her accomplice, “This one won't need a magic user, or a capable fighter, for ANY of her very legal affairs,” she finished, tossing the Raider a pointed look, “Right?”

Her impatience and overly literal understanding earns her a temporary victory, albeit accompanied by a sarcastic gesture of apology. Levia tenses once more as she feels herself forced towards the floor, squeaking like a mouse and clearing her throat the second she's set down to avoid seeming feeble in front of this woman. She immediately sought to look for the formidable body that lifted her into the air with little effort, expecting the burly form Goron, or at the very least a hardened set of Hylian muscle. Not so. Levia was rather disappointed when a timid raven-haired girl with eyes aided by frames stepped timidly into view. Disappointed, if not also a little surprised. Magic. It had to be magic, Levia convinced herself. "Oh get over it," Levia chided at the similarly aged girl, stepping out of the chair as she spies upon her teary eyed gazed upon spilled milk. "If you're gonna cry over milk, ya shouldn't have had me spill it in the first place. Twit."

Now that she has a good look at her, something about this Anne disgusted Levia to no end. In a room inhabited by the under-privileged, the Heiress stood out like a diamond among coal. Though it were fairly simple, her robes were particularly immaculate, what with its beautiful shade of purple and remarkable design. To the Raider, Anne looked nothing more than the typical dainty princess waiting for a knight to rescue her. What particularly unnerved her, however, was the Heiress's choice of equipment, particularly the weaponry strapped to her person; the impressively crafted shield and saber. In the instance of this discovery Levia was less skeptical of this girl's innate strength. However, these were tools of prosecution she had been used to fleeing from, often held by knights or paladins in pursuit for her head. The flames of envy and hatred sparked in the glaring eye of the Bandit, until her attention returns to the Devil who claimed to leave.

"Fine, go!" Levia crossly responds with a huff, "Good riddance." She had planned to turn to order a cheaper beverage before leaving, but was once again interrupted by the Heiress, who presented herself to her through meekness and remorse. She stares down Anne, and for the moment seemed visibly indifferent to her kindness. The Raider opened her mouth to respond with spiteful words, but the voice of the Devil silenced her own. She was not planning to leave; her sarcasm made that very clear. No, Lister was seeking an audience with the inner greed of the young thief. Levia looked away, but her eyes returned to the pleading gaze of the Heiress. By this point, Levia's expression was wrought with frustration, vexation...and perhaps a hint of guilt.

The intense irritation made Levia shake for a brief moment ending with a deep sigh of exasperation. She shoots an angry leer Lister's way with a kind of ferocity that could easily be misinterpreted as malicious intent. "You REALLY know how to be a pain in someone's side, don't you?" the Raider growls, folding her arms underneath her cloak, "Just what do you want from me? What makes you think I have what you're looking for, huh?"

Lister was jubilant, her doppelganger seemed to have finally taken the bait, as the crimson-clad woman herself would have done. Now, all she needed to do was keep the momentum going, and to reel in the prize. “We’ll be free of it all soon. Then, the girl can be free of me,” she thought, shooting her companion a wary look. Anne had returned to pondering the secrets contained within the grain of the tavern’s floor, having wilted under Levia’s scouring gaze and words. Though, just beneath the Heiress’s quivering lip and watery gaze, lay something hard and inflexible. This strength betrayed itself through the straightness of her back, and the way one hand feigned rest suspiciously close to her armaments. This pleased Lister, and meant the younger woman was not quite as meek as she seemed. She would need that inner strength, that steel will, to survive in this harsh world.

She considered this, as she took a seat in front of their Rupee-Eyed benefactor, and suppressed a sad smile. The thought that Anne would, in time, have the strength to survive their inevitable parting gave Lister a painful sense of serenity. Lister knew, deep down, that the raven-haired maiden deserved a life better than the one the Curse-Taker had chosen. Once free of each other, she’d find there were many who would flock to such a strong, kind-hearted girl. It would not be a noblewoman’s life, that was lost to her now, but it could be one where she lived in peace. A peace that had no place for a Devil. Lister pushed these thoughts from her mind, knowing they were better suited for a later time, and put on a wide, cheery smile, which even a one-eyed girl could tell was suffusing desperation. “I want us out of this damn city,” she said, her long canines gleaming wickedly in the dim light, “and I want it to be before then next sunset. You’re supposed to be smart, and good at thinking quickly, so recognize the rarity of a Devil...” she chuckled, and pointed to herself, “...being the one who wants to strike a deal.”

Like the sudden strike of a stealthy Sheikah, realization strikes the "one-eyed" Raider completely unaware. She could recall coming across wanted posters of a criminal drawn very dubiously to fit the name, and would always muse herself with the sense of familiarity she would face whenever looking at it. The colorless features never tipped her off before, but now she could say with confidence that the woman in that poster is sitting right in front of her. Lister was the Devil so infamous and established through the rumors those wanted posters spawned. She was just as criminal as the young bandit herself, and now the Devil is bargaining with subtle desperation for Levia's cooperation.

First a smirk flashed across her face. Then a grin. Lastly, a delighted burst of laughter escapes her.

"Who would'a thought the Devil herself would be so desperate for help! You just made my day!" Levia laughs, wickedness haunting her voice. Her expression of amusement quickly dies down, grinning like a villain as her eyes leer at Lister, eyes sparkling with avarice and hints of her spiteful nature. She takes a seat back into the chair she had pried herself away from, confidently crossing one leg over the other and her arms underneath her cloak. "Well," she proceeds with mischievous sarcasm, "I guess I do owe you one..."

Levia sits there for little more than a few moments, pretending to muse over several possibilities of aiding the Devil and the accompanying Heiress. While theatrically rolling her eyes to the ceiling and tapping her chin in false thought, the Raider steals a few glances, filling herself with content with just how frustrated she could make her benefactors, incapable of hiding a content smirk at any displeased expression. Finally, she resumes, after she has had her fill with tormenting the other women. "I think I can manage to get you two outta here; no problem." Levia tells them, returning her gaze, "But it's a lotta trouble on my part. Can't let ya get by for cheap." A greedy hand extends from her cape in the Devil's direction with a flat palm accompanied by an expecting glare. Between Lister and Anne, the spiteful rogue was certain she could fill her pockets to the brim with their Rupees. If they were truly so desperate for assistance, Levia would not be above taking the worst advantage over them possible. Her way of attaining vengeance over Lister for a traumatic encounter. "I'd say it'll cost ya damn near an arm and a leg. Think you're willing to pay that up, Devil?"

“Goddesses above, that is her real nickname,” Anne muttered to herself, suppressing a giggle. No matter how many times she heard it, the title ‘Devil Lister’ simply sounded ridiculous to her. Though, given how she preferred to treat strangers, the Heiress could see why the crimson-clad woman had earned it. As Levia began soliloquizing her proposal, ever so proud of herself for only now grasping the situation, Lister placed her arms on the table. Her wrists were upturned to the bandit in faux supplication, as the older woman proclaimed, “Start cutting,” with a satisfied smirk. While the two discussed the terms of the deal, a raven-haired maiden found her mind wondering back to her first meeting with the Curse-Taker. It’d been a dark, moonless night, and at such a time when she had hardly any control over the entropic energies her curse had bestowed. It was then, when no one would dare approach her, that a knight without armor, armed with a steel smile, changed her life forever. Though, their first exchange of words had been less than chivalrous.

*********

“Get up,” Lister spat, pulling her arms free from the grip of two Llangollen guards. The Devil’s foul mood was thanks to their hasty ‘appropriation’ of the women's person. Threats did little to persuade her, and the family had much to lose. Anne bowed low, and begged her compliance, for the Devil’s own sake. An awkward silence followed. Lister simply stared at the girl for a long time, as if taking her measure, before finally speaking. “You’ve a kind heart, but a weak one,” the woman hissed, “I’ll take pleas for my services, but not from you. Such a self-less creature, your kindness is as easily won as a whore’s affection,” she finished, looking to Anne’s father, Mendax. “Your eyes are hard, and you’ve the gall to let your daughter beg. I’ll wager you've never groveled. Go on then,” the Devil chuckled, flashing a smile Anne would come to know very well.

The great Llangollen patriarch had made a great pother over the proposition, but did in fact pay the due. Ironically, it was Anne who had won the battle of wills in the end, and perhaps more. “You could have escaped if you wished, couldn't you? Why did you acquiesce to us, truly?” Anne asked, following a shackled Lister, who was being escorted to her new room. “Just a whim, I’ve been curious about the merits of charity. Soothes the soul they say, maybe one day I’ll get one,” was the sarcastic reply. “Ah, so you’ve lost a first tonight as well,” the raven-haired maiden extrapolated innocently, “Your first act of philanthropy, I’m honored.” Lister’s face was flush with embarrassment, having been caught in her own web of words, much like the Devils of ancient folklore. Anne bowed, and politely excused herself. With a puzzled expression, the Curse-Taker watched the bespectacled lady leave with a new appreciation.

*********

True, Lister had been more like a viper than a knight for those first few weeks, but it hadn’t taken much longer to understand the person behind her mask. She was used to being used, they both had that much in common, but it seemed she could stand others being used even less. At the heart of it, she was lonely. To protect herself, she became accustomed to lies and duplicity when dealing with others. So much so, that the stubborn woman didn’t even know when she was fooling herself as well. “We all wear masks in the end, even me,” she mused silently, shifting uncomfortably in the molding wood of her chair, unaccustomed to a seat without a cushion. “Lister, at least, is unafraid to show others her worst. She’s yet to see mine,” she thought. Anne, as always, was afraid. Afraid that Lister would one day discover what ugly things Anne kept buried underneath her meek visage, and no longer keep her close. The Heiress was a timid thing, but even she had a touch of the Llangollen will in her. A will to fight, a will to succeed, and a will to prove herself worthy. Every knight needed a squire.

Tired of pondering her own faults, she turned her attention back to Levia, and wondered what kind of mask the Rupee-Eyed Raider wore. On the surface, she was so alike Lister, but Anne was an empath of the highest order, and could tell right away most similarities were only skin deep. This girl, so close to herself in age, had likely never felt lonely a day in her life. She had never been afraid of her own existence, of her own heart. While clearly not an adapt at words, that was simply the mark of someone who’d never had to use them as a shield. In many ways, Levia was everything the younger woman wished to be. Yet, she also pitied the girl and her avarice, so ignorant of what it meant to care for another. Perhaps they could bridge the animosity cast by the situation, and learn a thing or two from one another, perhaps Moblins will learn to fly.

Still, she had to at least try. When the dialogue had reached a lull, the shy girl extended a small bag to the Raider. Within, lay a handful of Deku-Sap glazed ‘magic’ bean candies. Lister had snatched them during her raid of the Bazaar, and they had been moderately successful in staving off the duo’s hunger. “I’m sorry about your milk,” Anne said with forced calmness, making an effort to meet their benefactors eyes. Lister raised a curious eyebrow, then chuckled sweetly. “I'd try to pay my due with her limbs, but she'd spend all night wondering which were the best to offer,” she said, patting her companion on the shoulder. “This one’d make peace with a raging dodongo, but what can I expect? She’s won over greater monsters already,” the Devil woman pondered, before returning her attention to Levia, and said, “I’ve heard enough of your warnings, and we’ve set the terms of our reward. It’s about time you actually tell us what you want in return.”

Lister's literal response drained the enthusiasm from Levia's face. She may have missed the last shot of the Devil's sarcasm, but this one was clear as day. How could the Raider wring out payment from someone who has nothing? The glimmer of determination in her eye fades in favor of irritation. There simply had to be something she could salvage from this. "Your head must be as empty as your pockets if you think that'll get you by me." she quips in frustration, "I guess you really don't want my help after all..."

The noisy rattling of beans in a bag catches the young bandit's attention before she could finish that thought. She was surprised to know that the other girl, the shier of the duo, offered anything to her at all, let alone an apology. As if by instinct, the Raider's hand snatches the bag as swift as lightning streaking across the sky, pulling it close to take a peek at the contents. What she sees makes her shoot Anne and incredulous look; a curious stare with furrowed brows. "Candy?" she mused, analyzing the Heiress' expression. She had expected some form of sarcasm incarnated in any part of her face. She lacked that. All that was there was a set of eyes unsteadily maintaining an untroubled gaze. The act of genuine kindness, albeit small and practically insignificant, confused the thief. Her attention return to Lister briefly when she speaks, then back to Anne. Her lips curl into a wry smile and finally they respond to the Devil.

"What I want is something you clearly don't have." Levia states, turning herself back to Lister, "Limbs and candy are no substitute for rupees." She thought a moment, glancing back to Anne. What did the Devil tempt her with before? "...A magic user, or a capable fighter, for ANY of her legal affairs," she heard the words repeat within her thoughts. Though she didn't quite seem the part, it was inexcusable for the Raider to deny Anne's abilities after experiencing them first hand. And with a name like "Devil Lister" she was sure that her old 'acquaintance' could be of use. Levia still had a mission to complete in this town, and if she had assistance from these benefactors, it might work out for everyone. She detested the idea of having to pay the Devil back and would like nothing more than to turn her away and never see her again. The dealings with those Cuccos were payment enough as far as she was concerned. However, even through her distaste for the Heiress, something about her kindness bothered Levia. A twinge of guilt to the heart that forces a sigh past her lips. "But," the Raider forces herself to say with a hint of begrudging respect, "at least Four-Eyes over here had something to offer. I guess I can give you an alternative." She motions the two closer to be in ear shot of the next whisper.

"You want out of this town, right? Well I know someone who can help you." the bandit begins to inform them in a hushed, solemn tone, "He's a good friend of mine that I'm supposed to be picking up tonight. Problem is he can't help you if he's behind bars. Get the picture?" She prods a finger onto Lister's chest, right above her heart as she reveals her demand. "If you want out, you gotta help me get him out." she tells the Devil, thumbing back to herself, "You scratch our back and we scratch yours. Fair's fair."

Lister was a fantastic liar, and would often weave fabrications so perfect that the Devil herself would fall for them. Though, even a master perjurer such as she had more than a few tells when it came to revealing her true emotions. When caught in a fit of laughter or mirth, she’d often jut out her long tongue and squeeze her eyes into slits, harkening back to her nickname. When profoundly irritated or frustrated, the woman was known to click her teeth together, a bad habit picked up from her adoptive stalfos uncle. Currently, her smile was drawn tight against her teeth, nose crinkled, and both eyes keenly focused on Levia. It was an expression she wore only in times of extreme anger.

“Oh yes, sure. Let’s go ahead and make ourselves even greater targets to the watch!” she fumed quietly, considering the merit of having Anne strike the woman unconscious, and try their luck with the first unscrupulous merchant. The Devil took a deep breath, knowing full well that the Raider was their best option. Nonetheless, when she looked the patch-eyed girl in the eyes, it took everything she had not to shout, “Are you sure you don't need a member of the royal family killed along the way, hm? Perhaps desecrate a temple while we are at it?” with enough sarcasm to drown them both.

Of course, she said nothing of the sort, and instead evenly replied, “I understand your duress, but you don't seem to grasp our urgency.” Lister leaned forward, making sure all of Levia’s attention was on her face, and the increasingly harsh glimmer creeping across her green irises. “We need something quicker we…” the older woman began, before spying something from the corner of her vision. Anne had shut her eyes, and turned her face away from the two rogues, but Lister could still see how badly she was shaking. The Devil opened her mouth to comfort the forlorn companion, but she couldn't find the right lie for the job.

There was no fooling the Heiress, she knew full well the dismal chances they had at attempting to escape on their own. Fiery words and a sharp tongue would not find them quarter in this situation. Still, the thought of kowtowing to Levia’s whims sent a prickly itch up her spine. Lister was a haughty creature, but nothing could stop her once she had decided on a course of action, not even pride. The crimson-clad witch took in a deep breath, letting the embers of her anger be tempered by the knowledge she was no longer looking out for only herself anymore. Anne’s fate was tied to her own, the curse saw to that, and her future took precedence regardless. “We… we’ll do it,” Lister said, barely above a whisper.

Seeing Anne’s subsequent release of tension, pleased at the resolution, brought a small smile to Lister’s face. It was a weird feeling, knowing someone relied on you, but not unpleasant. The Curse-Taker’s hand twitches, as does a corner of her mouth, some action crushed under the weight of her will. She turns her gaze back to the widely beaming Levia, her expression no softer than before, but now far colder. It was true, the Raider currently had all the the odds stacked in her favor, but Lister had overcome more dire situations with far worse hands. “We’ll be your loyal henchmen for the night, Cucco Girl, but let’s make one thing clear,” Lister cooed, smooth as a snake.

“You and I are both rogues, in our own way, s'why I came to you. So don't think I don't know what's going on in that head of yours. You'll get your due blood, and not a drop more,” the older woman explained, rising from her chair. Tentatively, she leaned in close to her new compatriot, and whispered, “So it would be best you heed the first rule of thieves,” into her doppelgangers ear, before taking her companion by the hand, and leaving the musty warmth of the tavern. As one walked silently into the chilly night, and the other was left to fume in her chair, both rogues muttered the sacrament under their breath, “There's always another rat in the gutter.”*

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*LuckyEights Approved

There was something delightful about seeing the Devil's typical well-composed aura of confidence crumple into fierce anger and frustration. Levia failed to contain her amusement as her lips slowly stretched into a wide smile, and almost loses the discipline required to restrain laughter. This joy she found in Lister's dismay was the feeling of success; the feeling of anticipation to take what she wanted of the Devil. As long as she had her and the Heiress under her thumb, squeezing what she could out of them would always be top priority. She hadn't forgotten her friend was imprisoned. She hadn't forgotten how important it was. But she also hadn't been keen on having to free him alone with little chance of reward. This was a blessing in disguise in her eyes; a glimmer of fortune in an otherwise unfavorable scenario.

What bothered the younger woman was how quickly Lister was able to recover from her disdain and comply. One glance to Anne, and the Devil's composure was revived almost instantaneously. She was curious as to just who these two were and what tied them together. Clearly they shared a bond, unlikely as it may seem, that enabled one another to affect them the way they were. How in Din's name did they even end up in each other's company? Her delighted demeanor dwindles under the musing of these thoughts, but she has to leave them unfinished as Lister stands before her, and reminds her of the age old rule of thievery.

"There's always another rat in the gutter..."

Time had an interesting way of forcing Levia to loathe every second of this encounter. Only mere moments after enjoying spiteful victory did the Raider learn that she had bound her obligation to the Devil as she had hers for the rest of the night. She was almost certain that Lister would try to elicit more from her just as the the young bandit had tried to do only seconds ago. This was no longer a clear advantage. This was a risk. A risk her own greed (and guilt) had blindly lead her into, and now there was no longer a way out. "I should've just let her walk away..." Levia snarls under her breath, throwing herself out of her chair and striding out into the night after her benefactors. With no hope of turning back and little patience left, it was time she put her new allies to work. Sleek needed to be saved tonight, one way or another. With this in mind, the Raider would collect the Devil and Heiress for the trip to the town prison.

The night air fancied itself a wolfos, and had begun to howl a biting ode to the moon’s glow. Anne drew her shawl tight about her face in a futile attempt to better bear the chilly billow. With her free hand, she removed a set of round spectacles, and tucked them into a small pouch, which was secured about her neck with a leather strap. While only mostly blind without them, the Heiress resolved to make do until such a time her nose was no longer at risk of frostbite from contact with the metal frame. She briefly pondered using a bit of leather to provide a layer of separation between skin and metal, as Lister did with her gauntleted arm. Speaking of the Devil, the very same armored limb wrapped itself across the younger woman’s shoulders, and drew her close. They stood together, perched patiently at the tavern entrance. Lister’s tall frame served as a decent enough windbreaker, and their shared warmth made the night air almost bearable. “She is coming, right?” Anne asked, eyes cast to the stars.

“Of course, this one is pretty emotional to be sure, but I’d wager she has an even head. Once she’s done stewing over the fact we won’t be easy marks, she’ll remember that we aren’t the only ones desperate for help,” The crimson-clad witch replied, her own gaze turned up towards the heaven. Both women knew that, whatever it was they were searching for, it could not be found among celestial bodies. Perhaps, the reason they did not search earthward, was for fear that it may actually be found. “I wish I could have fetched your blade during the escape. It was so beautiful,” The raven-haired women lamented, gingerly tracing the hilt of her own weapon. She felt a reassuring squeeze across her shoulder, and a long sigh tickled the back of Anne’s neck. “I’ve gone through many rapiers over the years. We’ll secure another in time, soon as I have the rupees. I’ve still got my spells, and it’s not like I can make money from demonstrations anymore, not while there's a price on our heads.” The Devil woman reasoned. Despite her words, there remained a phantom tingle on the left side of her hip, where a trusty blade was usually secured. Though, should they find the proper journal, she could always summon a new one instead.

Lister was broken from her musings by the quivering voice of her companion. “It’s all my fault, isn't it? If I’d seen the signs sooner, no, if I was never cursed to begin with, you’d be free of all this,” she cried, shivering from something other than the cold. At once, Lister spun the girl around, and looked directly into those limped sapphire eyes. “Enough of that, regrets are for the dead,” the older woman chided coldly, before flashing her grin and whispering, “...and let me tell you, even then, half of them don’t even bother with the trouble.” Anne nodded solemnly, idly threading her fingers through a dark braid. Lister peered close, and playfully poked the Heiress in the chest, just below the nape of the neck. “Besides, I don’t need a sword, I’ve got a bodyguard who can beggar the royal guard itself!” she chuckled, and was supremely relieved to see a slight smile bloom across her patient's lips. “You can count on me, you can,” Anne asserted, raising a stout fist to the air, “I’ve also got an idea for how we can quietly make a fair living as we go, legally too. It bothered mother to no end, but I picked up more than a few of father’s trade secrets,” the younger woman added, her eyes already twinkling with calculations and mercantile projections. The Curse-Taker felt something akin to both amusement and relief swell within her heart, it was easy to forget that the Llangollen inheritor was as sharp as she was strapping.

“I know tears won’t earn us any favor, so you’ll see no more from me. I’ll not be anyone’s damsel,” Anne concluded, turning her head at the sound of overly-dramatic boot stomping emanating from within the tavern. “I care little about adventure, but there’s happiness for me yet, should I have the courage to seize it,” she breathed, adjusting her saber and shield nervously. “Very true, we can’t be afraid to let go of what we know for what we want,” Lister responded, double checking her own gear out of habit. The two nodded to each other in agreement, despite the fact they were talking about two very different things, before turning to face the discontent Levia as one. “Well, let’s get a move on then,” Lister said, matching the Raider’s gait with her own while Anne took point. “I take it you have put some planning into this, yes? Anything you can share about the prison layout, the guard rotation, and… I don’t know, the actual location of your friend, would be much appreciated,” she inquired, praying to Din that this was not an improvised job.

At the harsh chill of the night's wind the young bandit combats such conditions with a swift motion, cloaking her head with the hood of her voluminous cape. She gave no words to neither of the benefactors, only beckoning them to follow as she strides into the night. As a thief, Levia had not experienced being arrested. For some time, she had been very fortunate enough to find opportunities to slip away from the grip of the law, and her tactics of escape over combat had a lot to contribute. In short, she's never been inside of the Castle-Town prison. However, the Rupee-eyed Raider would not be entering unprepared. During the day she took the liberty of scouting both the location and outer layout of the establishment in question, committing the positions of guards, spotlights and unguarded points of entry such as crawl spaces or open windows. From there, everything else would have to be improvised -- a skill Levia learned to cultivate thoroughly.

When the Devil threw query of preparation her way, Levia merely snorted in wry amusement. "Maybe a little." she teased in response, clearly not quite as concerned about this endeavor as one should be. "Knowing the prison that well would require prior imprisonment." She turns her body to the following Lister and Anne, hands folded behind her back as she continues her direction by walking backwards, gazing upon them with her one visible eye. She could comfort them that she had at least done recon earlier; that she had some knowledge on the prison itself, however little. Levia denied them such peace of mind. Instead, she offered them -- or rather forced upon them -- the luxury of trusting the abilities that still lay mysteriously hidden within the Raider. "This isn't my first time breaking into something, you know. Just do as I say and you'll be fine..." A smirk creeps its way across her face as she turns back to continue her gait forward. "Probably."

“If dislike were liquor, I’d not have a liver,” Lister cursed under her breath, quickening her pace. Clearly, this child had never lead a raid in her life. If she had, then it was quite clear to the Devil woman why she’d not had any assistance for her little spree before the duo arrived. With a little grace from the Gods, Levia would at least prove she possessed skills worthy of her mouth and bounty. The older woman could already feel a great knot of tension building between her shoulders, and it grew ever more taut for every wry glance the patch-eyed bandit threw their way.

With a spiteful chuckle, the crimson-clad woman wondered if she had been this insufferable when she was the same age. She’d certainly been as confidant, but the world had taken great pains to beat, burn, and claw that ignorance out of her. The pain of old memories broke through her anger, and the witch let out a long sigh, Lister didn’t wish those truths on anyone. If at all possible, perhaps she might be able to prevent the little thief from making the same mistakes. “Just my luck,” she thought dryly, “another misfit to manage, and not even half as adorable.”

Working some of the stress from her limbs with a causal roll, she quickened her stride to match the Bandit’s gait, looking over her shoulder every so often to check for unwanted tails. The Llangollens were still after them, and could make their move at any time, but both runaways knew better than to burden Levia with the details. After all, she was clearly withholding some information from the duo herself, the lass had an exceptionally poor poker face when it came to being smug. “Alright, we’ll play it by ear. Unlike you, I’ve known the Castle-Town watch from both sides of the iron bar,” she murmured, not letting their conspiring travel any further than Anne’s ears.

“They are dreadfully bureaucratic, everything's in triplicate, even the keys,” she elaborated, counting each bearer with a leather covered hand, “One’s always with the captain, who in turn is probably locked up in his comfy little office, he’ll also have keys to anything else worth stealing. Another goes to the lieutenant on duty, easier to grab, but always on the move. The last one is going to be sealed up someplace safe for posterity's sake, probably in the armory, or wherever the captain keeps his booze.”

“Have you truly done something like this before?” Anne asked, her eyes wide with awe. Lister, always ready to impress, jumped on the chance to brag. “Well, I’ve broken out of many brigs, breaking into one is a little new. Normally, I’ve got someone on the other side to set it all up. It’s a clean racket, letting your patsy capture you for the bounty, then slipping out the watchtower with anything not welded down. Does wonders for your reputation,” she explained, giving the Rupee-Eyed Raider a small wink, paired with a word of wisdom.

“I get the feeling you and I have similar philosophies, from the moment we could walk, we’ve lived our lives to the fullest. Nothing holds us back, and no one can command our whim,” she said, tilting her head back, letting the silver light of the moon gleam across her vibrant green eyes. “Yet, why do I get the feeling you’re a stalhound chasing a bombchu? You’d not have any real use for it, and might just be destroyed for the trouble,” she mused, before leaning in closer, “What you really want, Cucco Girl, isn't anything that glimmers, trust me.”

Before Levia could respond, Lister stepped back, and turned her attentions to the Heiress. “Now, dearest Anne, you will have to be very careful. While I am sure you could simply rend the bars from their hinges should the need arise, brute force will be of little use if things go smoothly,” she began, acting as if this was an everyday occurrence,“Thus, your job will be to keep a keen eye, and act quickly, should our current plan of ‘trust the bandit’ hit any snags. Levia and I should be able to handle the bulk of the sneaky bits,” the Curse-Taker finished, tapping the brim of her hat knowingly. Anne nodded dutifully, a serious purse on her lips.

“Of course, but let Levia take the lead, it’s her rescue after all,” Anne chided, finding herself oddly amused by the situation. “Oh, alright, but take her commands with a bit of salt. Lookouts are the first to be seen, and often the last to escape,” Lister warned, and was relieved to see a determined fire in her patients azure eyes. “This is but an inappreciable prelude of our journey, and I am eager for the real act to begin,” she said, giving her companion a confident smile, who laughed heartily in response. “I can see the opera now, they’d call it: A Raider, A Devil, and A Heiress Walk Into A Bar...” Lister whispered, not wanted to reveal Anne's heritage to their taskmaster. “I’ll compose the music myself, I do so love thrillers…”

To hear that Lister had such familiarity with the Castle-Town prison was not something the Raider had expected right away. In retrospect, it was no surprise that the Devil would have found and freed herself from such endeavors. The expression of conceit died rather quickly as she found herself listening contently. "Heh. I'm almost glad I didn't turn you away now," Levia states, a hint of intrigue nestled among sarcasm, "A good bandit doesn't need rep. He leaves without a trace...that's what my old man used to say." She was never one to think much about what kind of mark she might leave on others. Other than occasionally taking advantage of the false rumors about the dreaded, remorseless Rupee-eyed Raider, treasure and rewards were typically at the forefront of her mind. What came from the Devil next would challenge even that.

With furrowed brows, Levia watches Lister skeptically, and would have been quick to question her had she not stepped back. Left to lead again, the Raider faces forward, eyes roving her surroundings in a feeble attempt to return her thoughts to the task at hand. The Devil's wisdom pestered her ego mercilessly. What did she mean? What could she possibly be searching for other than bounty? Banditry was all she knew. As far as Levia was concerned, there was nothing else for her. Yet, even at that conclusion, the thoughts that tormented her continued ceaselessly.

In the midst of jumbled thoughts emerged something enticing to the Raider's avaricious eye. With a quick hand, the bandit rips paper from a wooded surface and holds it before her in a desperate attempt to replace her focus to something else momentarily until their destination had been reached. What she saw astounded her. The crude illustration of the wanted "Devil Lister" brought a glorious glimmer to the greedy green eye that leered upon it and the reward listed below. It was difficult to imagine such an amount of wealth in one place. That is a lot of Rupees being offered! The Devil's reputation, Levia figures, might come in handy after all. With that in mind, she quickly folds the poster and tucks it into the depths of her cloak before the others could see. If all else fails, turning the Devil in for riches would make a lovely consolation to take home.

Lister seemed to have lost most of her interest in Levia at the moment, or was she perhaps bothered by something she had seen the Rupee-Eyed Raider do? Anne could not be sure, for she was prone to not seeing much beyond her own worries, even when wearing her glasses. At any rate, the Devil woman had fallen to their back, casting most of her attention to stealing glances behind the trio, once more wary of skulking followers that were not there. Anne knew her companion was extremely anxious, and was no doubt nearly as nerve-wracked. Once this task was done, a long rest for the both of them was in order.

The crimson-clad witch had always possessed that strange dichotomy. Not a care for where the wind took her, but dangerously keen to another’s troubles. Though, unlike the martyr-prone Anne, she preferred to simply uproot the issue instead of giving in to it, often violently. Just as she had when they first met, again when she took on the curse, and even during the now infamous ‘ballroom scandal’ during the raven-haired maidens dancing season. Remembering the last incident in particular brought a smile to Anne’s freckled features, that act of kindness in particular was especially dear to her.

The Heiress sensed that Lister was deep in thought, most likely regarding contingency plans, should their current course of action strike a vein of poor fortune. Knowing it was best to let the Curse-Taker have some time to ferment on the brewing schemes, she decided to approach Levia, and perhaps continue to smooth things over with their taskmaster. It was not a terribly hard thing to sense, the softer side of the bandit. It lay just beneath her visage of arrogance and greed, just as the unbending will of the Llangollen heroes churned turgidly within Anne’s pallor. More than that, It was the very same will which gave the meek girl courage to speak. Such a shame, therefore, that her chosen icebreaker threatened to sink the conversation before it could ever set sail.

“There’s a moon out tonight,” She said flatly, suddenly clamping her teeth together, as if desperately trying to stuff the words back into her mouth. Her face blossomed a deep shade of red, averting her eyes from the no doubt incredulous gaze of the raider. The Llangollen tried, Goddesses knows she tried, to just let the blunder pass into silence, but her lips betrayed her once more. “Uh, it’s… pretty,” She said, horrified, and seriously considering the merits of using her saber to cut out such a traitorous tongue. Levia gave no reply, but Anne could feel her gaze boring into the former noble’s temple like a Bemos’s eye. Normally, the raven-haired maiden would have given a half-hearted whimper and crawled away with what shreds of dignity remained, but the fickle ember of bravery kindled a will to speak earnestly.

“Lister gave you one of her ‘not so different’ speeches, right?” she murmured, and Levia’s gaze shifted slightly in surprise. Reassured, she gave the bandit a cheery smile, and said “She tends to find a parallel with herself in just about anyone. However, she’s very rarely wrong in her comparison.” In response, Levia gave a slight ‘hmnf’ that was rather telling. Anne knew the momentum needed to keep going while she yet had nerve, and make her point. “So, I won’t try and talk about how you and I are the same on some fundamental level, but that doesn’t mean we can’t understand one another. Working with Lister for this long has certainly taught me that,” she elaborated, leaning just a little closer to the patch-eyed girl.

“If there is one thing we do share, I think, it’s drive. You for treasure, or is it self worth? Whereas I always reach for what’s just out of grasp,” Anne said, a little too wistfully. For a moment, all sweetness left her inflection, and her tongue became as sharp as her saber. “So I’d wager you too would give anything to protect it, anything and everything,” she said with a slight nod, blushing once more. “Why, it feels fantastic to speak of these things with someone else!” Anne chirped, “Oh, but I've been rambling. Please, do tell me about this Mr. Slick of yours, I imagine he’ll be quite relieved to see you.”

Be it intentionally, instinctively, or merely accidentally, the unlikely banded trio joined the night in silence the closer they drew to their destination. A silence that the Raider basked in for the few moments it lasted, putting her gaze to work in front of the wary team, checking for any hidden soldiers positioned in blind spots. Even when convinced with urgency, Levia found herself increasingly distracted. Her treacherous mind revisited unwanted thoughts and the enthusiasm to bleed her new benefactors dry slowly molded into something she could not quite describe or understand. Something she had readily mistook for disdain.

Perhaps it was a blessing in disguise for the Heiress to shatter the silence the Raider had lost herself in. Her stubborn grip on concepts she had little time to dwell on at the moment had found a new source of attention in the form of a rather obvious opening conversation. Levia raised an eyebrow, her stare locked on the embarrassed expression of the similar-aged girl. Behind her disapproving gaze, the young bandit found herself oddly amused with the Heiress trying to befriend her, or at the very least start a friendly conversation. This, no doubt, must be how she became companions with the Devil, the Raider muses. But, even when deterred, the Heiress keeps talking. She smiled, and the bandit's gaze shifts in surprise. She wasn't aware Anne had been listening to what Lister had told her, but it was clear she had insight to it. Insight that shifted the conversation into something that at any other moment would have triggered a violent reaction from the Rupee-eyed benefactor. Levia couldn't stand the idea of someone like Anne, someone she had little doubt came from a much higher privileged than she, would dare compare themselves to her. As far as she was concerned, they were nothing alike.

If the situation were any different, the Raider saw little issue with planting her heel somewhere between Anne's eyes, but the fact was she and Lister were still of use to her. Besides, fighting someone who could effortlessly lift her in a chair, someone she had mistaken for a Goron, was absolute folly. Instead, Levia would entertain Anne for now, molding that aggression into thick snide.

"Sleek." The young bandit corrected, rolling her eyes at Anne's mistake, albeit very simple to make considering the phonetics of the strange choice of pseudonym. "He's just someone too clumsy to be trusted with anything alone. I'm just glad he didn't get himself killed this time." The hint of frustration was unmistakable, a tell that imprisonment is far from the first misfortune this clumsier rogue found himself in. Despite this, Levia looks ahead of her, a smirk materializing across her lips at the faint sight of moving lights and the shadow of a large, strong structure that imposed fear in the hearts of many lowly thieves. "But...he's good for help. He can't do much for himself, but he's been a lifesaver for me..." A glint of determination shown in her eye as she leered ahead to the place of her friend's holding of which she and her two allies rapidly encroached upon. "He's been someone I've relied on for a while for a lot. Least I can do is rescue 'em. Again."

“Pardon my mistake,” Anne said bowing her head lightly. She’d only half-heard the name beforehand, and it certainly was a strange one, but committed the correction to her memory. From the poorly masked inflection of Levia’s responses, two things had become clear to the woman. First, she’d been a tad too hasty in trying to understand the rough rouge a bit more, the waves of broiling malice radiating off Levia’s shoulders were unmistakable. For someone so venomous, she was surprisingly thin skinned in regard to the most peculiar things. This deterred Anne little, for she learned it best to merely give the aggressor some distance, and let their anger collapse in on itself harmlessly. Fire was best left unfed, she’d learned that well enough from her mother. Secondly, it was clear the patch-eyed rogue did in fact have a softer side, for the worry shining in those rupee spheres could not be called anything less than tender.

“It must be a nice thing...” the raven-haired maiden mused, procuring her round spectacles and placing them square upon the ridge of her nose. “...having those who can rely on you,” she finished, adjusting the leather strap slung across her shoulder to better bear the weight of her shield. At once, she felt a gauntlet-ed hand upon her shoulder, and the warm breath of Lister pricked at the points of chill-charred ears. “Yes yes, amor vincit omnia et omnia quae stercore, but let us keep shallow voices, we are already much too close for my liking,” the self-taught scholar soliloquized, taking Anne’s place beside Levia. “Had enough of looking for tails?” Anne teased lightly, strangely excited by the calculating sneer her companion wore. She’d seen that taunting visage once before, and it’d caused no small end of trouble.

“No more need. The dogs are right before us,” Lister countered, taking measure of the jail, deliberately isolated from the otherwise closely knit buildings of Castle-Town. Her eyes crinkled at the grim structure that stood just before the building's entrance, a tired sort of sadness lay in the shadows which pooled about her otherwise fair features. There it stood, the hangman’s drop, empty and waiting. She silently traced the still tender bruise about the nape of her neck, a grim reminder of her own recent brush with asphyxiation. “Well then, let’s get this over with, the night is long, but not forever,” she murmured, before turning a head to their taskmaster, once again full of mischief, “Well raider, now’s the time for us to ‘do as you say’ and be rendered speechless. Let’s hear your orders, I’ve got breath left in me yet.”