I don't get paid enough for this. . . ((Beowulf, Molpadia))

The Ebony Warrior released a sigh of relief as he stepped into the inn with his patron, grateful that the sun was no longer beating on his shoulders. Now thinking about it, it wasn't smart that Beowulf decided to wear his usual attire here in this sunny and hot area. Black absorbed much more heat than lighter colors, so. . .

How lovely.

In Beowulf's defense, it was the only combat apparel he had. So he just had to deal with it.

It wasn't anything new. When he was hired, it was bound for him to go to all types of places, and ever since he had two daughters, he began to charge more so he could support both himself and two infants. He lost a bit of business, but at the same time the high price drew in more fellows who assumed that if Beowulf's services were pricy, it meant he was good. Which he was-- he just wasn't an expert just yet, as he has fought for only around 3 or 4 years. But who says he won't become one?

This time, Beowulf's patron was quite the mystery. All he said was that he needed someone to protect him from an assassination. He didn't say why, and frankly Beowulf didn't care. As long as he got paid, Beowulf was happy and had no concern for this man's personal life. He was lead to Anthripos, and into the exclusive room upstairs at the very top of a fancy inn. As soon as Beowulf's employee shut his door to sleep, Beowulf positioned himself right in front of the doorway, firm and ready for whatever would come. His sword was at his back, and his fingers itched to grab it.

It was quiet. Too quiet.

The sun blazed down upon Molpadia. She had been following this man for what seemed of decades. The clever little minx got away every time. At this point, it was pretty clear she was preparing to end whatever miserable life he led. Painstaking weeks had gone by since they first encountered one another. He had intel on Gynaikes, intel that could damage Gynaikes as a whole if it was leaked out. What this valuable intel was. She had no idea. Her chieftess gave her a cut and dry answer. Kill the target. Not one to argue, Molpadia agreed and began her hunt.

Anthropinos was the last place this man would take his last breath, the place where his grave would be dug.

His movements are predictable. Then how did he get to live this long? Molpadia was distracted, she focused more on what the intel was, rather than the true task at hand. It plagued her mind, took over her senses, made her lose concentration. Now she was ready to end this.

She landed on the building's roof that was right next to the inn, as the man and his bodyguard walk into the entrance. Dropping onto the ground and making her way in the taller building.

Watching as he made his way up to the top made her sick to the core. She cursed out herself for not ending him weeks ago when all this could have been avoided. She stopped when they entered the room.

Now was her time to strike. The guard dog stood right outside the room, blocking her chance to head home. Slyly taking out one of her fans and opening it. She was a lion while the guard was mere prey to her, something that could be written off as obsolete. Her feet carried her as she rammed right into his side.

Beowulf didn't see it until it rammed into him, making him lose his breath. He skidded on the floor, shuffling his feet to get a grip before whipping out his ebony greatsword from his back. Eyes dangerously narrowed under his helm,  Beowulf tried to lay eyes on his adversary. There she was, a hunter in the dark. She looked just as prepared as he was, with a fan prepared in a hand. It was just as beautiful as it was deadly, as Beowulf could see it could be used for more than just keeping cool.

His opponent looked to be wearing light clothing, evidently used for stealth. If his assumption was correct, then this lass was the assassin. And if she wasn't, well. . .

Nah, you know what, I don't care.

Grunting, the tall Ebony Warrior swung his huge blade, hoping it would taste the blood of his foe. He tried to focus on the moves of the assassin, but it was hard to with that outfit. He could hear shuffling from inside his master's room, and Beowulf fought from calling him to stay inside. If the patron was killed, Beo would get no more pay, but if he called out to him to stay in, this woman would know he was inside the room. . . That is, if she didn't know already.

She tried to dodge the blade but it nicked her arm. The crimson rivers began to flow from the gash in her left arm. Little droplets of blood dripped down onto the inn's floor. Her arm burned with pain trying to make her focus on it more. She ground her teeth together, she would have to take care of her arm some other time. Luckily, her right held the fan. She checked the man up and down, he was rather hot, tall too.

Mol smirked underneath the gauze mask that covered half of her face. She's seen these types before, even slept with them. The height was new though. She liked it. They were fighting but why not have a little fun before she killed him. With a flirtatious wink, she threw her fan at his left shoulder hoping it would hit and cement into it.

"I wish we met under different circumstances, cutie." She said with a teasing tone to it. She wanted to get him riled him up so he became rage driven, easy to predict, easy to end.

Beowulf was satisfied to spot crimson droplets dotting the floor. It wasn't a deep slice, but at least he got a strike in. He spun to face his adversary once again, bracing his arms to slice and dice, but that was when a fan lodged into his shoulder armor, making Beowulf grunt and stumble back slightly.

Then he heard her dialogue.

It felt like a mockery. Under the helmet, Beowulf looked up with his concealed eyes blazing in fury, icy silver fires hungry for a swift revenge. The fan was lodged more into his armor than his skin, so only a little bit of blood was drawn. . . But it still stung like fire. Ignoring the scarlet stream rippling down his ebony, Beowulf replied to the female's taunt in a cold voice.

"Yeah, well, I wish I could say the same."

Trying to ignore the stinging in his shoulder, Beowulf summoned all the strength in his arms and struck once again, yelling a battle cry. Out of the corner of his eye, the Ebony Warrior saw a figure walking out of a doorway... His employer.

"No, darnit!!" Great. Why did Beowulf agree to lend his services to a dumb guy who would just waltz out in the middle of a clash? Especially when one person was trying to kill him?

Molpadia blocked the incoming blow from his blade with her closed fan. The two blades clashed making the oh so familiar sound of metal colliding against one another. She looked at his shoulder seeing her fan logged into his armor. Knowing she got payback for the wound he gave her, she smiled. Struggling against his blade in a battle for dominance, she saw her target walk out of the door. Her eyes met his as he proceeded to run away from her and his guard.

Looking back at the taller man she growled, "I would love to stay and slay you, but, he is more important to me than some dog." Molpadia twisted her fan, that protected her from the guard's blade, in order to proceed to her target. Adding insult to injury, she ripped her fan from his shoulder and ran towards the end goal. She opened both her fans ready to finally end this madness. She knew the guard wasn't that far behind.

A snarl escaped Beowulf's lips as the fan was torn from his flesh, more blood rising within the wound. It wasn't serious, but like mentioned before, it burnt like fire. Taking a moment to shake his shoulder to ease off the pain, Beowulf tried to run forward, not even rushing. He knew that man was done for. He knew that he had failed and will not get his parting pay, and began to hope that the pay he did get would be able to support his young offspring.

Beowulf stopped in his tracks as his employer fell to the floor in a lifeless lump. He huffed in anger, sheathing his blade. "Well there goes my money," he grumbled, bubbling with frustration. He wanted to take a brief moment to politely chop this lady into bloody pieces of flesh, but he decided not to risk it. In any other circumstance he would have lunged forward in an effort to end her life, but this time he had his daughters in mind. He couldn't risk killing himself and making them orphans. Besides, what was the point in fighting this lady? He only fought for his master, and now he's dead.

"Thanks a lot."

Molpadia smiled as her target landed dead on the ground. It was over, Gynaikes was safe from whatever Intel this man held. She could finally head home and see her parents once more. She was about to take her leave when the guard showed up. She felt bad for the guy. Was money the only reason he protected the weasel? Different scenarios of why he would protect him flashed through her mind. Then one question burrowed into her thoughts. Why wasn't he attacking her? Most dogs would have jumped and tried to kill her, in which she would have slain them right there. So why wasn't he attacking, he was the type to do so. Her head spun until it hit her like a ton of bricks. He had a family. He needed money.

She removed her hood, letting her rust-coloured hair flow freely. Unwrapping the gauze from her face she turned to face him. She smiled, face fully exposed. It wasn't one of those fake smiles people had on all the time, but a genuine smile.

Walking over to him, she began to giggle herself. Stopping inches from him she held out the gauze and a pouch of money.

"Sorry if it wasn't what he was paying, but hey you did nick my arm." She said playfully.

"Put it to good use." She said walking away from the tall, ebony-armored warrior. Sighing, she knew she just left a really good catch.

For a moment, Beowulf saw a confused look in the woman's eyes. He still kept himself firm. You never know these days when people would try to trick you into letting your guard down. Not that Beowulf thought that the lady would have turned him inside out right there, but he had all the reason to stay alert.

Then she removed her mask. Under the helmet, Beowulf's concealed face wore an expression of surprise. Needless to say, she looked mighty fine. The Ebony Warrior rebuked himself for thinking so, being given his current situation. Esther just abandoned him, and now two one-month-olds were under his protection. This wasn't the time to coo how pretty someone was. . . And he wasn't sure if this woman was worth trusting yet.

And he was about to find out.

When Beowulf retrieved the bag of moneys, he was even more shocked. He stopped focusing on the lass's appearance and tried his best to count the cash in the bag. She was right, and it wasn't what his patron was paying him, but it was enough to last a while. Beowulf looked up. "Th-. . ." He grumbled at his own stutter, then said, "Thank you." The woman was already walking away, but the Ebony Warrior removed his helmet to reveal his face. Scratching his beard stubble in confusion, Beowulf spoke, "That's very generous of you."

He wouldn't have showed so much gratitude if he hadn't had a family to look after. He would have just grinned and settled for thanking the giver if someone waltzed up and gave him some money. Now, Beowulf can rest assured knowing he will be able to get two babies fed for a few nights. He knew that if he just let this woman go he would have a guilty conscience about it. He owed her.

"I, um. Is there anything I can do for you?" That was a dumb question. Beowulf really did just give her a mission accomplished when he let her kill his employer. . . but not without a scratch.

Molpadia stopped in her tracks as the man spoke. She turned to face the man to speak when her eyes caught a glimpse of his face. Her heart felt like it stopped beating in her chest before rapidly beating once more. Was this the guy she was fighting? Most dogs she had come by were not this attractive and certainly not tall at all. Not noticing her mouth was slightly open or that she was staring way too long making it a little creepy, she clenched her fist and readjusted her posture.

"Generous? Please, the only thing generous that I did was not dropping you right where you stand. My comrades would have killed you and this man." She said pointing at the corpse than to him.

Not knowing exactly how to let the man repay her she looked around trying to find something. Until it struck her, literally. The nick in her arm seemed to have worsened, probably due to movement.

"I guess you can bandage my arm. Try anything and I gut you." Pausing for a moment she said cutie and boy did she mean it.

Beowulf noticed the look of surprise on the lady's face when she turned back around. When she stared for a bit, he began to feel a little uncomfortable. . . but more than that, he was flustered. Did she find him attractive? Not that Beowulf often ignores his good looks, but it wasn't exactly like he looked in a mirror and went like "mmmm, yesss". He didn't exactly feel anything against this gal though, considering he did get a bit lost in her beauty earlier.

Okay, fine, I admit it, Beowulf's thoughts snapped to himself. Maybe she's a little pretty. . .

Just a little.

Maybe it was a bit soon to be gawking, but surely there was nothing wrong with thinking a girl was pretty? Just as long as he didn't ask her to be his girlfriend the first day they meet.

Beowulf nodded to the assassin's request, and went to the corpse of his patron. He couldn't help but smile at her threat. . . And then he was called a cutie. Blushing as he tore off some cloth from his patron's sleeve and went over to press it into the woman's wound, the Ebony Warrior mumbled, "I am not cute."

Molpadia chuckled when the man said he wasn't cute. She had could see the man's blush and found herself blushing too. Did he think she was alluring just as she thought of him? Probably not. Molpaida is use to being gawked at out of lust or what have you, it was normal. This man was different. She actually liked him. The stubble didn't help either, it made him look rugged, which she liked a lot.

"Fine, how about devilishly handsome? Does that help your man ego?" Looking up him with a smile she laughed.

Hissing as the cloth was pressed to her wound she asked, "So what's your story, sweetheart? Did Mum and Dad throw you out into the world with only a sword? Or did the old ball and chain leave you with seven children you to care of? C'mon, tell me. We're going to be here awhile anyways."

Devilishly handsome? That just made Beowulf blush more, the redness of his cheeks contrasting with the usual pale of his skin. He would have figured he would have been reminded of Esther, but he wasn't. Perhaps it was because Esther wasn't as. . . affectionate. Beowulf had been flirted with before, yet a lot of the times he would shoo the lady (or man) away if he wasn't interested. This time, however, he didn't want to leave just yet. Maybe it was because this lady had some sort of attractiveness that he hadn't witnessed before, or maybe her flirts really were stroking his ego.

Zhada rubbed his face with his other hand as the other held down the cloth, trying to get rid of his blush. He focused on other things, and tried not to look up at the woman. He concentrated on the piece of cloth in his hands, and answered her question.

"I chose to become a mercenary at my own will," he began, focusing. As he put all his thought into his history, the blush on his face faded. "Used to be a nomad, but whatever. About a year ago my ex-lover showed up after months of missing with my twin daughters I wasn't aware of, and left me to care for them on my own." He sighed. "So yeah. Pretty harsh I guess, but that's life for ya." Finally, he looked at the assassin and wondered if she had some dramatic backstory, and if she would be willing to share it. He wouldn't be surprised if she did. In this world, it's nearly impossible to have a fluffy, happy childhood, especially if your parents or siblings were anything but merchants or nobles who lived a chill life. "What about you? You have some tragic misfortune?"

Molpadia was actually surprised at him for telling her his history. She honestly thought he was going to be gruff and tell her to screw off. Maybe she was reading this guy wrong. Smiling she thought that this dog might actually be a fuzzy teddy bear who just needed some love. Which she would happily give if he was willing. Watching his every movement became second nature at this point.

Her smile faded when he asked her about her past. Looking away, lost in thought, she recalled that night when everything went up in flames. The screams, the pain, every last detail flooded back to her. Her gaze became cold and distance, as she remembers failing Sudan.

"I, uh," she paused for a moment. Was she really going to tell this man? Never really told anyone before, this was new to her. She looked back at him, "My adopted brother, Doland, set my house on fire when I was thirteen. My sister, Sudan, burned with it. When I found out he did it I asked him why. I still remembered the smile on his face as he replied, 'for fun.' So, I got my revenge and killed him."

It felt strange not to see the woman smile, since she had been wearing a grin on her face ever since Beowulf saw her without her mask. He listened to her story intently. It was much more tragic than his own. Although the Ebony Warrior felt a dash of sympathy, he wasn't all that fazed or surprised. Such tragic tales weren't uncommon, and it wasn't rare to hear that someone's parents died at the end of an assassin's knife or their sibling died in a fire, much like this woman's story.

"Hm." Beowulf grunted, taking off the cloth to check if the wound was still open and bleeding. "I would've done the same thing." The man never felt such a need to deliver a harsh vengeance, as he hadn't experienced a death in his family or circle of friends. He did, however, know for sure that if someone were to do as much as to lay an unfriendly hand on one of his daughters, there will be heavens to pay. Beowulf would rip out the guy's intestines and play jumprope with them before throwing him into an icy canyon. Although his offspring hasn't been around for long, Beowulf loved them with all his heart as soon as he laid eyes on them.

Suddenly he realized he was getting soft and a bit too friendly with this woman. Although she did pay for a few nights of extra survival, Beowulf didn't want to stay too long. Scoffing, he said, "Hope you're feeling better. I'm sick of holding my hand in the same spot all the time."

Molpadia looked at her arm it had stopped bleeding. She smiled a bright smile that could rival the sun itself. Wanting to make the situation more playful, she pecked his cheek. Oh, she wasn't going to let this one go before goofing around. Cupping his face and nuzzling his nose with hers, she gleamed with joy. Stepping away from him, hoping he would be a blushing mess, she put her hand over her mouth concealing her giggles. This was going to be fun.

"So, your daughters? What are their names?" She said in between giggles before mentally face palming. She hasn't even asked his name! "While we're on names, even though I love giving you pet names, what's yours, sweetie-bear?" At this point, she was holding back tears of pure happiness she barely even manage to say her question.

Biting her lip she calmed her storm of laughter, "My name is Molpadia. One of my nicknames is Angel if Molpadia is too hard for you to say. Or you can call me Paddie." Wiping away her tears she looked the man in his exquisite eyes. She sent another flirtatious wink his way.

On the inside, she couldn't take it. Molpadia Never felt this way about anyone before, she was lost in what she should do. She was letting impulse guide her in hope of getting a lover.

The Ebony Warrior was shocked at Molpadia's sudden display of affections as she embraced him with snuggles and a peck on the cheek, and his face turned as hot as a coal fresh from the fires. . . Not to mention it was scarlet red! Beowulf could only stand there in surprise, slightly staggering, both mentally and physically. He didn't know how he could take it. How was one supposed to flirt back? He felt like if he gave this woman as much as a flirty look then he'd suddenly be covered in red smooch marks. How his peers would taunt him if he came back to Kryo like that!

"Yvonne and Sona," Beowulf replied, his voice quiet, but after a moment he spoke up in a much more bold tone. "Only around three months old or so. Named them myself, so that's where the cool names come from." As he listened to this woman introduce herself, he found that he could understand why she was called 'Angel'. This gal-- Molpadia --was gorgeous. Like, drop-dead gorgeous. That Beowulf would admit.

With a tilt of his head, he nodded slightly. "Molpadia." He regained his posture, with a straight back and square shoulders. He drummed his twelve fingers at his sides. "I am Beowulf Zhada from Kryo. I am not a sweetie-bear, either. Are you from the Gynaikes?" He asked her that in hopes of changing the subject. Bears were huge and ferocious. What would a sweetie-bear make Beowulf? A stuffed animal used for snuggling?

That does not sound like me at all. I am not sweet or cute. I am the coolest.

Smiling at leaving him in a mad blush, Molpadia watches the man drum his... twelve fingers. That was new. This 'Beowulf' was turning out to be way more interesting than any of her old love interest. Or maybe she was just insane for still being around a guy that tried to kill her. Oh, how she was growing to like this man more and more by the second. Rolling her eyes as he once again stated he wasn't any form of cute. She was wrong about him being a sweetie-bear. He was a cuddly puppy at best.

"Fine, Beowulf Zhada from Kryo, you are not a sweetie-bear but a cuddly puppy. Yes, I am from Gynaikes. Here let me say it in a way you would understand, I'm Molpadia Rouge from Gynaikes." She was being playful even with talking to than man.

"Very pretty names. To think such a cool man picked them out is weird don't you think? I mean wouldn't a cool name be Rex or Ace to a warrior like you? I think you're being coy with me, Babe."  Tucking a loose hair behind her ear she bit her lip and looked up at him.

The man looked down, tapping his index fingers together in front of his chest. He felt so hot, like he had a fever or something. He had no idea why he was already getting a slow crush on a girl he met, like. . . an hour ago. He didn't know how to flirt back at all, and he would think that his nature would have shooed any lady away by now. Molpadia was obviously one who didn't seem to care about what others thought, and appeared to march to the beat of her own drum.

Suddenly Beowulf was afraid. If I keep acting like this, maybe she actually will go away. . .

A few minutes ago he wouldn't have minded if she left, but now he realized that he liked her company, to say in the least. Maybe it was bit soon to grab her arm and call her his girlfriend, but realizing he liked her company was a start. Sighing, he still had no idea how to let her know he kind of liked her. He was supposed to be tough, not soft!

"Thought you were from the Gynaikes," he mumbled shyly, deciding to throw in a flirt for himself. "Most angels seem to come there." He blushed at being called 'babe'. Oh god, what was he getting himself into? "My daughters are very very beautiful and deserve equally beautiful names, not scary ones." He nodded firmly, feeling confident. That made sense, right?

Also my pickup line was pretty rad too. He thought that Paddie would like it.

Molpadia was kinda shocked at Beo's words. Did he actually like her the way she liked him? Oh, this was going somewhere fun. If he wanted to flirt than she would flirt back. Ideas popped up in her head before she dismissed them. Should she be direct, or give him a chase. Why not do both? Either way was going to have an outcome.

Moving to him so she could whisper in his ear, "I bet they're gorgeous since their father is oh so handsome." Moving her hand to his armor-clad chest she said, "We should probably get away from the corpse, it's really killing the mood." She nuzzled his neck before kissing it.

With a swift motion, she backed away and walked over to the corpse. She slung the man over her shoulder she smiled back at Beo. "C'mon now I need help hiding the body. I pretty sure someone as strong, cool, and hot as you can help."

Yep. Beowulf had no idea what he was getting into.

Too close! he thought in alarm as Molpadia got very close. He had no time to pull back, but even if he could then he would probably have been to flustered to move. He felt as if his feet were glued to the ground and, as expected, his face was red. Well, at least she agreed that Yvonne and Sona were beautiful. Beowulf couldn't imagine the two being anything else.

Blushing as he watched her walk over to the lifeless body, the Ebony Warrior was frozen in place for a bit. He was still stunned by the sudden embrace. After a few seconds, his mind was cleared, and he placed his helmet back upon his head.

"Fine." He snorted, approaching the assassin. "Whatever. Any ideas where to hide that thing?" His voice was full of mock distaste, referring to the body. Also, he felt too flustered from earlier. Maybe he went too far. He wasn't used to being so close to a lot of women, even though he had his two children very recently. . . Well, actually he wasn't used to being close to a lot of people at all.

Molpadia shook her head. This man was doing things to her and she was enjoying her time with him. Fake pouting as he put on his helmet she nodded. Where were they going to hide the body? Puzzled at the question she sighed and knitted her brows together. They could possibly bury it. But where exactly would be a good place? Looking around maybe behind a building would work? Perhaps someone had a garden.

"Hide it behind a building sound good? Someone is bound to have a garden where he can be put to use. Or we could burn him. Since he was your patron, you can choose. If you really want we can give this rat a proper burial." She smiled at him. Saddened a little at not being able to see his face anymore.

Pointing to one house at that was rather far from any other ones she said, "That one seems pretty good if you choose to bury him."

The thought of giving the man a proper burial made Beowulf frown. It would be the respectful thing to do, but the problem was simply that the Ebony Warrior didn't feel like it. Why should he? It's not like his employer would do the same if Beowulf died. Never in his years had he heard of a patron burying his hireling, nor vice versa. Maybe it was common to hear differently in other parts of the world.

Beowulf was expressionless as he said, "I don't care where we bury him. Best to just get rid of the body." His gaze followed Molpadia's, silver eyes scanning the area. "That place would work fine though." Even though he didn't care where the corpse went, he assumed it should at least benefit someone living. The body could become part of the earth. . . Or maybe some weirdo in Anthripos is secretly a cannibal. Who knows.

"Let's get to it."

Molpadia gave a quick nod and walked over to the house she pointed at. Wondering how they would bury him. Hoping this house had a garden or at least soft soil to make this go easier. The man already started to smell. Her mind traveled to what the info was. Driven by her own desire to end him she didn't ask. Sighing she looked back at Beo.

"You know if you ever need help or need someone to watch your children. I'll be there." Was it weird for her to feel a bond with him? A man she fought, a man she ended up falling for. The universe is a cold mistress.

"So Beowulf Zhada from Kryo, who's your daughters' mother? The Bigger question, why would she leave someone like you? I wouldn't leave a handsome devil like you if we were together that is." She gave him a cheeky smile.

As Beowulf followed Molpadia, he noticed the dead man had begun to reek, causing the Ebony Warrior to scrunch up his forehead in disgust. Eugh. He really wanted to hurry up with burying him, so as soon as they reached the garden, Beowulf grabbed the shovel that was laying on the ground nearby. He began to dig while Molpadia held the corpse, grunting as he did so but otherwise quiet.

Her words made him look up in surprise, his eyes blinking. She would really look after Yvonne and Sona if it came to that? Why would she? Beowulf tried his best to act aloof and uncaring, so why should he be paid back with kindness? It made his heart skip a beat for a moment, stunned by the kindness of fellow humans. He didn't really expect an assassin such as Molpadia to offer that to him as well.

Maybe Beowulf was reading too much into it.

He stammered, "I. . . Uh. . ." He had no idea how to reply to her. Realizing he stopped digging for a moment as he stood in shock, the Ebony Warrior shook his head to himself slightly and began once more. As always, he blushed at the Angel's flirts. He decided to answer to that instead.

"Her name was Esther. She was an employer of mine." Most men may find trouble talking of their past lovers, but Beowulf did it with ease. . . Mostly because he just didn't care anymore. "She didn't want the kids just because she said she didn't want to be a mother at such a young age. She was 20." Beowulf shrugged to himself, rather awkwardly as he considered that he was a bit young to be a father as well. "I. . . Kind of agree. I mean, I didn't want to be a father at 22 years, but I won't want to abandon my spawn like she did." After a second, he glanced up. "What would you have done?" Now thinking about it, he was curious about what others would of done if they were faced with the same predicament. Would they have ran away from their responsibilities, or is Beowulf simply a fool? As he spoke his voice wasn't soft. It still had a sharpness to it. Beowulf had forced it, as he didn't want to be seen softening up.