“Attractive?” Qilo questioned, amused by her choice of words.
Sedom’s cheeks balled up against her eyes, her lips thinned. “Let me rephrase that, attractive to her, not to me. To me, you're a pistol with a brain. At least, I hope you have a brain or I would have wasted a hell of a lot of money,” Sedom clarified.
Qilo chuckled. He ran his fingers through his cropped, raven-colored hair. “Good to hear, I think. She's a sweet girl. Not my type, but sweet. I don’t care much for sweet girls. They get hurt too easily. Good food,” he mentioned, raising his fork-full of rassis roots. “So, what’s the plan?”
Sedom stared at him, attempting to figure him out. He was quite muscular about the arms and chest, much like Zion and obviously Dormin. He wore a black tank top which showcased several tattoos over his arms. Most of the tattoos were of Rook religious symbols, something which she found rather interesting considering the Rook were Mandicien.
She could tell her staring was making him uneasy and she secretly enjoyed it. He looked up at her with bright yellow eyes, unsure if he was going to have to defend himself.
“Are the rumors about you true?” he asked.
Sedom eased back in her chair, wrapping her arms around her chest. “Depending on which one’s you’re talking about,” she admitted. She was always interested in hearing what new rumors were circulating around about her.
“So you breathe fire and fade away like smoke?” he asked, half-serious and half-joking. Sedom stared blankly at him, not bothering to answer. “Ever skin a man before?” he asked, seeing if he could shock her.
Is he seriously asking me this? “Yes, I have. I kept the skin of the Marisheio cor’e’dal that was responsible for killing my family. I took my time cutting away every muscle, every tendon so I could keep his skin perfect. He only screamed for about an hour before he bled out. The skin is in my quarters if you would like to see it. I was thinking about hanging it up on my wall, but many here have disapproved. Instead, I’ve sewn it into a cover for my punching bag. How about you? Done much skinning, have you?”
Qilo turned his eyes to Sedom, blinking uneasily. “The rumors about the Harp are true. You admit to being the devil-bitch everyone’s talking about?”
Sedom grinned wildly. “Now what would make you think that?”
Qilo chuckled uneasily. “I see.” His eyes turned back to his food. “And I thought I was going to have to babysit,” he half-joked.
Sedom glared at Qilo. “I'm not sure how to take that.”
Qilo smirked, holding back his chuckles. “With my sincerest admiration, Chadon. You have the heart of a warrior and the nerve of a psychopath; both which I admire greatly. You're going to be an interesting person to work for.”
FOUR
Early the next morning, Sedom was already in the main compound packing the gear for their trip. The men arrived dressed in black uniforms and full body armor. Sedom rose from the bags as Zion tossed her a weapon-proof vest.
“Found them on level four along with the uniforms. I thought you might want one yourself.” He held up a uniform covered in a thick plastic coating.
Sedom grabbed it, examining the uniform. “Good, find. Decide what we need. I'll be back.” She held up the uniform, motioning that she was going to change.
“How many levels are there?” Rosanheer questioned.
Zion knelt to one of the bags Sedom was packing. “So far I've found seven. Sedom still has several levels blocked by the orbs. She's secretive about her city.”
“And her ships?” Qilo mentioned. “Heard a rumor they have a cloaked ship docked somewhere nearby. I would love to get my hands on that. Call it an old pilot's dream.”
“I haven’t heard about that one yet.” Zion said as he handed a bag to Rosanheer. “I wouldn't mention it to her either. Sortec gets moody when she hears talk of her people.” He pulled a long-nosed pistol from the pack. “I have to admit, she does have a nice arsenal.”
“I'll say. How'd you get messed up with her?” Rosanheer asked, musing over his own weapons. He removed three pistols hiding them in his sock, belt and in a holster under his arm.
“Just lucky I guess,” Zion joked, hoping that his friends would take the hint and drop it. Rosanheer shook his head slowly, telling Zion he wasn’t going to get away so easily. “I was hired to protect the Braum's sister, Asa while she was here looking for Sortec. Our group was caught up in a dispute with the locals and the Marisheio. Someone happened to recognize Asa and our group was arrested. Sortec was in town at the right time, saved our lives. Since then, I serve her.”
Qilo grunted amused. “Local gossip claims Asa Daveric is dead,” he mentioned.
Zion nodded. “Asa didn't make it.”
“Sorry to hear. She was a good woman.” Qilo grabbed his bag’s strap, testing it to see how much it could hold.
“Sortec was the only one brave enough to hire you?” Rosanheer joked.
Zion hoisted his bag over his thick shoulders. “It didn't help I lost my client. And she never hired me, I just sort of stuck around and she started using me,” Zion mentioned.
“Pay?” Rosanheer asked.
Zion shrugged. “I should probably ask. Since I arrived, everything has been provided for me.” He glanced at the ceiling of Gathow. “Swap positions. Would you leave this place?”
Rosanheer chuckled. He rubbed the side of his nose with his thumb to loosen a thick piece of dried skin. “Considering my background? I'd love to call my father just to flaunt it,” he joked.
Zion glanced
