Solo

/The two had been laughing all night. Tavaline had even been perched on his lap at one point while his hand sat dangerously low on her hip. Deep down, she was repulsed; disgusted by the man that she had be instructed to make disappear. That was her specialty: make the worst of the worst vanish into thin air. Everything was set in motion and all she had to do was complete the task at hand. And what an easy task it was. Given her exotic looks - vibrant hair, a generous dusting of freckles and piercing navy blue eyes - she was a pretty young woman that had seen twenty one name days. The ease that came along with wooing any man that bat his lashes or winked at her, it bewildered her and it always would. Men, such simple minds.

Old Town. What a peculiar place she found herself in, the second largest city in Westeros with a population smaller than that of King's Landing. She enjoyed it, the city. It made her feel exhilarated; the smell of the Sunset Sea, the bustle of the port. It was exciting.

Tavaline Roosa, the mysterious ginger huntress had made her way from the west; she would never speak her home's name and no one dared ask. There was a superstitious belief that her fiery red hair meant she was a danger-- bad luck, even. That's what her birth father always told her, anyway. It didn't bother her a single bit, it only meant less people for her to give a shit about; no attachments, no problems. Everything was so simple when she received word from someone in dire need of help, they told her their stories - be it by letter or face to face - it made it all the more easy to slip on those masks and get the job done. Rapers, murderers, thieves... Those that would never see inside the walls of Castle Black. How they heard of her? Word of mouth. Tales of a small woman with a hand so quick, no one sees her coming. She was clean, to the point and under the right circumstances, she worked for free.../

--

Snapping back into reality, a boisterous voice pulled her out of her thoughts from what brought her back into the real world. Tavaline had more than a few ales in her belly, along with some stew and blackbread. But she'd caught the attention of a few archers like herself who didn't believe she had any skill whatsoever. Shocker, they never did think too highly of a woman who had training in more than the art of spreading her legs.

"One hundred yards?! My arse!" The man laughed, slamming his large hand on the wooden tabletop between them.

"Sometimes more." Tavaline replied calmly, a coy but dangerous smirk pulling on the corners of her freckled lips. It was hard not to be amused by their skepticism.

"Y' think I'm gonna believe that, ye wee thing? Yer scrawnier than the ones I see on the street!" He said, laughing again and shaking his head, his thick brunette beard getting caught on his tunic and vest. He'd had far more to drink than her, that made him a primary target; the telltale rosy cheeks and nose of inebriation.

"You look like the gambling sort; care to wager, my dear man? There is a courtyard not far from here. We can set up a few targets, winner take all?" Proposed the huntress, tilting her head curiously at the man while she trailed her slender, callused finger around the rim of her empty mug. "We've both had our share, it should make for an interesting bet." She smiled wider - they always fell for the sweet smile of an innocent ginger. This was not the first time she'd swindled some dumb drunkard out of all the coin he had and it most certainly wouldn't be the last.

Tavaline could see the contemplation on his red face, the hesitation. But then he grinned a toothy, yellow grin and slapped his hand down on the table again, "Ye got yerself a wager, little girl!" He beamed and stood. He was a good two or three heads taller than the hunter still sitting across from him, "Benam! Fetch m' bow! We're gonna show tis little lady what real archers do!" The man bellowed, another gutteral laugh following soon after.

The ginger did not verbally respond, rather both of her matching brows flickered upward and she smiled, standing herself up, feigning a waver of drunkenness as she grabbed her own bow that rested beside her; quiver still resting at her hip. They laughed and she forced a pink blush to rise to her cheeks. 'Fools...' She thought to herself. None would cheer for her, she knew that right away, but that didn't matter. She was only there to prove them wrong.

A red braid fell down her back as she turned, reaching down to tickle at her waist. Typically, she wore hunting leathers that consisted of trousers, a tunic, her cloak and added accessories such as her belt and other things. But she managed to find a local seamstress where she purchased skirts that touched the ground; dirtied at the hems from dragging along the ground beneath her feet. Of course, seeing as how she disliked the vulnerability of wearing more feminine garments, she had her trousers beneath the skirts. Leading the challenger and his group of fellow drunkards, she smirked crookedly when no one could see. Sure, she could feel the bubbly sensation of the alcohol in her head but it did not faze her in the slightest. Sometimes, she worked best under the influence, especially when she had the motivation to make people eat their words and disbelief. Despite being a stranger to these lands, she had always been a wealthy girl - making her coin of bets and selling the meats and furs from her hunts - and paid off a few of the city guard to keep the courtyard empty for a while. Tavaline knew how to make a pretty penny with her skills and knew how to be frugal; to survive on only what she needed. A few stragglers and people wandering the streets gathered in the area. Few looked at her right away, not until she readied and tested the string of her trusted bow. A few whispered here and there but the small woman paid them no mind.

Her challenger's followers set up a few barrels as varying distances - the farthest was one hundred yards from the closest alley - and set up discarded goblets and dented or cracked mugs. The whole notion of this situation made her chuckle. All the skills she had been taught and she was using it to trick people into thinking they could beat her. She was a confident woman and for good reason.

A young man stood off under the shadows watching the hunter perch herself atop a barrel, idly twirling her bow between her nimble, callused fingers as she watched everything unfold. Once she felt his eyes on her, she looked at him and smiled a pretend drunk smile,

"You there," she said, her free hand motioning him to come forward, her hand now moving to fish for a pouch that jingled from her hip and under her cloak, "I've got some silver for you if you can count what's in this little bag, and perhaps some gold if you can make sure no one touches my things when my time is up. What do you say?" Tavaline purred to the young man and smirked her familiar crooked smirk. She was not the image of a noble, nor did she behave like one but in her time, had saved much of her bets and wins, making her far more wealthy than average smallfolk.

The young man lofted a brow, his arms folded over his broad chest... Then he nodded. "Yes, m'lady." He replied simply, letting his arms fall to his sides as she slipped off the barrel and he stepped forward to stand beside her. His eyes intent on the bag, she pulled out not two, but three silver stags and pressed them to the palm of his hand. "Th-thank you, m'lady." He stuttered, quick to pocket the easy money.

"I am trusting you with a great deal, young man. I do not tolerate thieves..." Mumbled the girl so only the could hear, a hint of malice and doom in her tone; he nodded eagerly and without hesitation, she dumped the bag of coins onto the top of the wooden barrel, "You /can/ count, yes?" Tavaline inquired, he nodded in response. "Good. Count for me, my dear." And she watched him, but her mind was elsewhere. She knew how much she had, she always did...

---

/It seemed like ages by the time she convince him to take her elsewhere, stumbling and hanging onto her as if the woman was about to disappear into thin air. This man, this grotesque brute of a man who had taken the life of a young girl; stole her from her father - mother long dead - and she was all the poor farmer had left. Tavaline had taken a shining to the man who needed her help. She agreed to assist, at no cost.

He mumbled and slurred on about how pretty Tavaline was, that he'd never seen a woman like her, not even in any of the whore houses that he had visited in his time. She said nothing in response, she smiled that seductively sweet smile that made him melt. Tavaline was lucky that he never tried to stuff his hands up her skirts while they were drinking and laughing, lest her daggers be found strapped to her person. When they reached the doorway to a rundown shack of a house, he pressed the ginger up against the door and mashed his lips against hers, kissing her forcibly-- sloppily and he began to get handsy; rolling his palms over her stomach, her back and eventually the massive paws squeezed at her breasts hungrily. He growled and Tavaline did everything within her power to keep from vomiting. His touch was nauseating. But, anything for the cause. She thought of the little girl, the one who would never see her tenth nameday, lol the huntress had. She thought about the father, devastated and alone and how he'll never be able to hold his little girl again. Tavaline kissed him back and opened the door behind her, if only to break the sickening affection as she stumbled backward and into the darkness.../

---

A few minutes had only gone by by the time he finished and met Tavaline's gaze with a proud grin, "You've twenty five silver stags, m'lady." He said, smiling still. Tavaline snapped back to reality with a languid blink and reached up to pat the boy's cheek,

"Well done, my dear. But not too loud. Now, what of these?" She asked and pulled out a smaller pouch from the many that hung about her hips, "How many in here?" And she held the little bag open for him to look inside. He stated there were ten gold dragons. And she winked at him, hiding the little bag back where it came from. "Now... To play the game..." Tavaline cooed and turned on her heel to face the crowd, pretending to stumble slightly as she spoke up; voice booming for such a small woman.

"Alright now, gents, I have twenty five silver stags. Care to match?" The red head's dark eyes watched her challenger as he watched her and whispered to his mates,

"Make it thirty." He answered.

"How about fifty?" Tavaline retorted.

There was hesitation and the man's small crew began to pool their coin, and in the back of Tavaline's mind, she thought. 'Good. The more the merrier.'

"Aye, fifty it is, then! Best of five takes the coin. You, then me, then you and so on, until we're done." The beastly man laughed and stroked his beard. She always let them make the rules, it was more fun that way. "What say you, little one?"

"A fine idea, my good friend." She replied.

"Aye! Ladies first, then!"

Tavaline wiped the discreet smirk from her lips and stepped forward, all eyes on the little woman from far away. Her nervousness was all a ruse, a mask. She was not afraid of losing, not afraid of being made a fool of. Half the fun of these bets was the humiliation she caused the men who challenged her. Her expression was sullen, worried and forced to go pale. Nocking an arrow she pulled from the quiver at her back, she aimed... Then set it loose. THWIP. She missed, the closest target, too. Tavaline's intentional failure caused the crowd to erupt into a small bout of laughter.

"Well, not off to a good start, am I?" She sighed, already seeming defeated and took a step back, not looking at her challenger.

"Aye. I can't say I'm surprised, wee one." He laughed and took his turn. As expected, he aimed for the same target and knocked the cracked mug of ale right off the barrel, his arrow snapping into pieces in the process.

Tavaline did nothing, just watched as he turned and grinned his disgusting grin. This was where she started loosening the mask. She no longer pretended to waver in her drunkenness or slur her words, "Well done, friend. Impressive." She lied, the obvious condescending tone riddled in her voice. "How about we up the stakes, I'll add  three gold dragons to my pile. What say you?"

He laughed. Always the response. She already missed one target, he thought it obvious she was going to miss the rest, "Aye, wee one! I could use a few more gold pieces."

Tavaline fetched the small pouch again and had her trusty helper pull out three gold pieces. Everything around her was silent. Then she stepped back to her original position... And took three long steps back to distance herself a little more. Nock, draw... Loose. The farthest goblet towards the end of the alley was knocked off its barrel stand and sent clattering to the ground. Everything... Even more silent before, one could hear a pin drop. And he was no longer laughing; his pile of coin glimmering on a low wall behind him.

His turn was next. Hit.

Tavaline after. Hit.

Him, miss.

She, hit.

Him, miss. The pressure was getting to him.

It was a tie, so far. Everyone around them whispering and he seemed to have sobered up since his first shot, a grim expression on his bearded features.

"Cheer up, love. Tis a game!" Someone shouted, laughter followed. He growled in response.

Tavaline's turn. This was win or lose... Her mind drifted off as she readied her arrow...

---

/Her target had ready removed his tunic, leaving his pants and the visible erection he had in Tavaline's sights. There were only a couple of candles and a lantern to keep the space lit, which made their faces seem distorted and darker than normal. He was a strangely hairy man, though not unusual for men in these parts, she noticed. Tavaline bit her bottom lip, an expression of feigned want, and where he'd planted her to sit, she stood. Her hands were firm on his chest and she pushed him back with an unseen strength that people never could predict coming from someone of her stature. His knees buckled and she straddled him, the man's hands immediately on her ass to pull her against him so the hardened cock within his trousers rubbed against her sex, then worked their way up to untie the corset that hugged her torso so tightly. Tavaline pretended to moan and pant softly, but could feel her stomach turn inside of her, the bile and ale a sickening mixture that could cause an eruption of liquid to rise from her stomach. This position made it easier for her to access the blades hidden beneath her skirts. Again, she was utterly thankful he hadn't wandered his dirty paws up and inside the fabric.

Her left hand reached for the candle behind him, pinching out the light. The right following suit to do the same to its mate. Now, only the lantern behind him illuminated her features and they seemed sadistic, looking down upon him. And before he could get loose the ties to her dress, she'd reached under her skirts and pulled loose her most trusted dagger, holding it to his throat. He didn't have a chance. "This is for Elyse Fisher." She hissed, shoving the tip of the blade into his throat, severing the jugular and as she pulled it out, Tavaline stepped up and back before she could get any on her tops, aiming the bloodied steel toward his heart.

He gasped, wheezed and gurgled and blood poured out of the cut made and his hands tried to grasp at the gushing liquid but were swatted away with her dagger, only cutting him more. With the tip of her blade once more aimed at his heart, she smiled a creepy, unnatural smile - enjoying every moment of what was happening before her - that made her seem almost demonic, "And this," she said calmly, meeting her target's gaze; frantic and scared, "Is for Efran, her father. Justice has been served where it had been ignored previously. Rot in the Seven hells." And she  pushed the dagger straight into his heart. Tavaline waited, watching, reveling as the life drained from the man's eyes and his entire body went limp. Only then did she pull her weapon back and clean the blade on her skirts.

Admiring the corpse slumped on the chair, Tavaline continued to smile. She felt better, no longer sick to her stomach and the guilt she once felt for Efran and his dead daughter was lifted. Wandering to the door - tearing the ugly skirts off her form to be in her clean hunting trousers - she opened it and whistled into the darkness.

The sound of wheels and a wooden cart came out from the trees and two brutish men emerged. "Hello, my sweets. He's inside. Your payment will be delivered to you at first light. Put him somewhere the birds and wolves can eat him." And she walked away into the darkness, making her way to an inn where she had been sleeping.

The night after a kill always made for the most sound rest, not a single thing waking or disturbing her. The following day after her target's demise, was a day for wandering, perusing shops and getting to know some of the locals.

That evening, with her bow and hunting gear on her - everything else she had with the horse she kept hidden on the edge of town - she made her way to a bustling tavern. Tavaline chose a table that was empty and took her seat, bow in plain view... And then one burly, bearded man stepped in, a boisterous laugh and his own bow at his back... Tavaline smirked to herself, ordered an ale, stew and black bread... Waiting.../

---

It all led her here. To this moment, aiming at a dented steel ale mug. Three.. Two... One...

THWIP.

Tink.

Cheering.