Whatever happened to Mary?

I've had Silverlock stuck in my head all day, both original flavor and Stella Matin style. This isn't exactly a bad thing, since his antics are almost always entertaining, but yeesh, brain. The man isn't made of angst and sex. Sometimes, he's made of cotton candy and creepy inuendo. *snerk*

Foxbird, at least, is always cute. Not entirely sure she successfully cancels out Silver's creepy factor, but she tries. (Foxbird is nine or ten here, I think.) Largely unedited, for the win!

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The Guild's library was almost as extensive and well stocked as the National Library. This was wonderful if you wanted to browse the stacks for a few days between assignments, but when you knew exactly what book you needed and could not, even with the master librarian's help, find the damn thing, it was more than a little frustrating.

He could just barely make out the lettering on the topmost shelf; if his book was anywhere, it would be there, a good fifteen feet above his head. Silverlock glared at the immense shelves, as though he could force them to give up the book he wanted by strength of will alone. The shelves ignored him, and he went in search of a ladder.

He found one, but it was already occupied- a tiny redheaded girl crouched under it, frantically stacking books around herself. Silverlock stood over her with his arms crossed and tried not to laugh at the comical way her eyes widened. Panic was one of his favorite emotions.

"Will you be done with the ladder anytime soon, my lady, or should I just find another?" he asked softly. He could hear another set of footsteps in the stacks, coming closer.

"Hide me!" she hissed, and dove beneath the hem of his robe.

"What's in it for me?" he hissed back, resettling the cloth so that there were no tell-tale bulges. His mage robes were cut so that he could hide several small girls beneath them, if he had to.

"Help me and I won't bite you!"

"You're a bit young to be making those sorts of deals while sitting between someone's legs, aren't you?"

She bit him in the ankle; her teeth were sharper than they had any right to be. Silver kicked her, readjusted his robes, and pretended to be engrossed in the bookshelf before him as the footsteps came even closer.

"Excuse me, Lord Assassin- have you seen a girl here? Red hair, about this tall?"

"Hm?" Silver glanced up at the man, taking in the gray healer's garb and the veil that covered half of his face. "A girl? In this part of the library? I should think not."

"Damn. My apologies for disturbing you, Lord Assassin." He performed a full formal bow, to Silverlock's amusement.

"No trouble at all, healer. If I do see her, I'll be sure to send her on her way." He smiled pleasantly, and watched the man's face turn a sickly shade of pale green. Disgust, fear, and no small amount of nausea rolled over him in waves of second hand emotion. Silverlock's smile widened; he didn't often induce such a strong reaction in others- not without trying, anyway.

"Th-thank you, Lord Assassin. By your leave." His steps were slightly unsteady as he fled to another part of the library.

A moment later, the girl stuck her head out from under his robes. "He's gone?"

"Indeed. What, exactly, did you do to get a healer sent after you?" He nudged her gently away from his ankles and out of his robes.

"He's my father. I'm supposed to be taking lessons with Lady Mishkal right now." She dusted off her tunic and wrinkled her nose. "You smell like blood."

"Of course I do." He swished his robes out of the way and sat down beside her. There were rumors among certain guild members that he loved children- as appetizers. He objected to this sort of slander; children had far too many bones to be good for anything but soup. "I thought Mishkal would be dead by now. She was a terror when I was an apprentice."

"She's an elf." The girl wrinkled her nose again. "They don't die."

"Ah-ahh." Silverlock tapped her on the nose. Truthfully, he found children charming when they weren't delicious. "Everything dies, my dear. It's all just a question of when and how."

She smiled then, eyes lighting up. "Sometimes it's a question of how much."

Silverlock's expression matched hers. "Spoken like a true Guildswoman! I hope you don't skip all of your other classes."

"Of course not! I go to all of the useful ones."

He nodded. Mishkal's specialty was interrogation, but she taught ettiquette to younger children. "And which is your favorite, then?"

"Hand to hand combat. I'm at the top of my class in ranged weapons, but I like knife fighting best even though I'm not as good." She scowled. "It's because I'm smaller than the rest of the class, but I'm still better than most of them."

"Being short just puts you closer to their knees. But you'll catch up to the others soon enough, I imagine." He looked her over. "How old are you?"

She grinned. Her teeth really were too sharp. "Blaine said I should say I'm too young, and bite anyone who asked me that."

He laughed. Overprotective parents were common in the Guild, particularly among the non combatants. "More biting! Fair enough. I'll look you up in five or six years and ask you again."

"Okay." She held out her hand. "Foxbird Torkehaav."

He kissed her knuckles with an extravagant flourish. "You are a most charming young woman, Lady Torkehaav. My name is Silverlock D'Alestri. You may seek my assistance any time you wish to shirk lessons with Lady Mishkal."

She stood and gave him a perfunctory bow. "I'll hold you to that, Lord D'Alestri." Her eyes flashed yellow green momentarily. "Thank you!"

He watched her scamper off into another section of the library with a crooked smile on his face. Charming, indeed. He pulled a long strand of rust colored hair out of the hem of his robe and twisted it around his fingers. The book could wait; he now had far more interesting things to attend to.

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Ahahaha. To make things creepier, they do eventually end up sleeping together. And then he starts sleeping with her father. (And that's a trick, since Blaine gets sick when Silverlock is within fifty feet of him.) Oh, Silverlock. You're such a ho.