The Righteous and Free (Umbreon)

Omar looked across the room at his partner, red eyes narrowing at the man talking to her. He remembered the information he had told her as they walked in, but he wondered if she remembered every detail. They had entered the grand hall in an ordinary fashion, both dressed elegantly and like true nobles. A flawless mask of flesh was pulled over his body, and he was impersonating a low ranking noble, who had barely been able to receive an invite to this party.

"Remember darling," he had said, patting her hand on his arm, "We've been married for four years. We have seven beautiful children, four boys and three girls. I have had five mistresses, none of which you know about. I provide for you well, and you are happy with your life. We'll go in, mingle, and be out in a few hours."

He watched the man now, sipping from a wine glass, as the man took hold of Ako's hand and led her to the dance floor.

Omar sipped his wine a little longer, savoring the sweet taste of it, before setting the glass back down among the many on the table and moving away. His mind wandered a bit as he idly chatted, making it's way back to the quiet manor house that served as a base of operations, the extensive cave system hidden by a pleasant farm above. He hoped the moles kept to their deal, and hadn't buried their noses too far into his cellars. His mind went absent until he bumped into someone. Apologizing profusely, he noticed he had wandered dangerously close to running into just about every couple dancing. He pushed his way onto the floor, tapping Ako's partner carefully and pulling his partner away. He slipped her arm through his and lead them into the awaiting carriage, "We're done here."

He helped her up, pulling himself in and urging the driver into motion. He began to change, tearing skin off his body, and switching formal, tight, itchy wear, for comfortable riding clothes. Long pieces came off his face and arms, being tossed lazily out the window, the dark metal of his skin shining faintly in the dimly lit carriage. Last came his cloak and hood, dark red eyes shining out from the shadow cast by his hood. Screams could be heard from the ballroom, and he urged the driver faster, turning his attention out the window incase Ako had any plans of changing before they reached the next town over.

Omar pushed feathers out his face with a disgruntled expression, wondering what actual purpose the wings had other than taking up too much space. He watched her rearm herself, and he absently rubbed at his arms, feeling the cool metal that served as skin. He slunk back against the cushions more, hiding his face beneath the hood, watching the outside world whisk by. At Ako's question, he said, "No trouble. We're heading out of the city, to the next town over. I'd expect an easy trip, unless we encounter bandits or stupid nobles."

As if on cue the coach lurched to a stop, and a rapping knock came from the door. Omar swore as he drew back the curtain, looking out to see a well dressed man standing lightly, holding the reins of a white horse in one hand. He knocked again, and he recognized the man as the same that had danced with Ako. Omar grasped the door handle and opened it just enough to yell, "Go away."

"I wish to speak to her Lady," the man said, deep puffs of air heard between his words. He was obviously over weight and not used to fast riding. Omar guessed he rarely left strong wine and plentiful food.

"My Lady requires rest. Go away."

Omar turned to Ako as the noble continued to knock, growling, "The idiot," he slid the window leading to the coach driver, "Go! Go!" he yelled, seizing the reins and snapping them quickly. The horses broke into a gallop, making quick distance between them and the startled noble. Omar climbed back into the carriage after talking to the driver for a minute and handing over a few more gold. "Change of plans. Get some sleep, we'll be home tomorrow."

Omar had climbed out of the carriage shortly after, ready to knock the noble off his horse, but fortunately some boy did it for him. As the boy mounted and then dismounted in an odd fashion, Omar went around the two bodies, looting things off of the noble while the guards were distracted looking at the boy. After he was done with his looting, he moved to the guards, telling them to let him take the boy, that he would see justice, and all that nonsense. When they refused, he hit them. Hard. In the face. There were loud crashes as they flew a few feet backwards into the undergrowth. Omar casually picked the boy up, wrapping some thick rope around his wrists and feet, securing him to the top of the carriage. He pulled Ako back into the carriage and urged the driver on, humming a low tone to himself.

"Now what was that all about?" He said more to himself than anyone.