Smile, It Confuses People

[zafirahibnlahad]

Zafirah sighed gratefully when she saw the backs of Conor and Jahzmine. Finally she could get some rest but not before a few minor things were taken care of. First the layout of the stable needed to be learnt. If she was cornered here by guards or an angry mob of pitchfork wielding peasants it would be nice to know a quick escape route.

Silently she stalked the stalls, taking note of what horses were where and how many there were. The assassin took note of windows and doors as well as roof beams and poles that could be easily climbed.

Still not totally sure that she’d gotten all escape routes planned; Zafirah scaled one of the support poles and lifted herself onto the roof’s cross beam. If there were any holes in the roof, chances were Zafirah would find them.
With impeccable balance she made her way across the beam searching for holes to exploit.
Now she was happy that all up way escapes had been mapped, Zafirah sat and looked down at the stable. It was so different to the open ones she was used to.

Without hesitation the assassin pushed herself of the beam and landed back on earth with a dull thud. She made her way to the door Conor and Jahzmine had disappeared through and peered around it.
They were headed to another building. Zafirah shrugged and followed, she needed to explore some more.

Being careful to have her hood fully up, she made her way passed Jahzmine and Conor and into the Smith’s house. Hopefully Zafirah could scrounge some food without being noticed. By now she had become mightily hungry and even assassin’s have to eat.

[conormccarthy]

As Jahz sat down on his work-room stool, Conor rummaged through his tools and picked up a pair of pliers, similar to scissors but with broad serrated tips that acted like a pinching thumb and forefinger. With them, Conor would be able to get a good solid grip on the pin stuck in the girl;'s hand. Conor's hands were rough, covered in callouses, and wouldn't have the grip to pull on the pin without the metal implement.

Taking the girl's hand and wrist, bracing the join so she wouldn't be able to flinch, Conor maneuvered the pliers over the pin. "I've lived here a few years," He said to distract her, "I only travelled once." He took hold of the pin in the grasp of the pliers, and peered at the entry wound. It didn't seem as if the pin had caught on anything. "I used to live in Ireland." He gripped the pin as near to her hand as possible, and pulled it out with a strong smooth pull. The wound unleashed a fresh stream of blood, and Conor grabbed a fairly clean rag and wadded it into her palm with an apologetic grimace. "Hold this." He told her, straightening.

He spotted the cloaked figure heading toward the Smith's house, and grumbled under his breath. "I'll be right back." He said to Jahz, stepping out of the room and heading after the Saracen. He caught up with her in the Smith's kitchen, and thankfully it was empty aside from the two. "Excuse me?" The Saracen woman was beginning to aggravate Conor. Didn't she realise he was doing her a favour by just giving her lodging? If Arnold caught her in his house, he would surely hand her over to the Sheriff's men. "You're not allowed in here, Arab." Conor stood in the doorway, looking rather annoyed. Who did she think she was?

[jahz]

Ireland? She would love to go out of England, see the countries, do something other then work her whole life. Jahz flinched lightly as he pulled it out and took the cloth gratefully, wrapping the cloth around her hand tightly and saying “must be nice to travel overseas, does any of your relatives live over here?” (OOC – you don’t have to answer this xD or he just didn’t hear because he walked out of the room) Jahz felt slightly dizzy, wrapping the bandage tighter staring at it, watching the blood puncture through the tight straps that ran around her wrist, she heard him say something but it was distant and she nodded hazily, hearing his feet falling on the ground she rested her head against the wooden wall of the hut, trying to grasp her thoughts that floated around in her head…

am I really that messed up?” she thought when she drifted into a white bubble, she could see everything, the small room and hear things too but she felt so tried, must have lost a lot of blood, she gazed at her hand again, there was too of them, she snapped her head from side to side, then there was one. Sighing, well she wasn’t mutating, then she heard muffled voices in the house, but she didn’t move, she didn’t really fell like it, like she was stuck in mud and she had to wait for it to fry before she broke it.

Jahz rested her head on the wood again, looking out the window into the barn, seeing that Dragon had made himself at home and was already dozing off, well his attention span didn’t last very long.

[zafirahibnlahad]

The way the man said ‘Arab’ he almost sounded disgusted.
Zafirah’s temper flared immediately.
“I’m not some monster who doesn’t need food to live. All I want is some bread and I’ll crawl back to the stable with the rats like you people seem to think I deserve,” she said quiet but menacing. She could feel the anger throbbing through her, all she wanted was to drive a blade through the man but, taking a deep breath, she calmed herself.

Zafirah looked straight at Conor as she picked up half a loaf of stale bread and defiantly took a bite out of it. She smiled cockily at him before taking the bread and herself outside to sit on a bench and eat.
“By the way,” she through over her shoulder, “I’m only half Arab, so that means I’m half like you.”

The assassin chewed the bread happily. She stretched herself out in the now visible sun, happy for at least a little warmth. She hoped the stable hand wouldn’t come after her; Zafirah was beginning to like him less and less.
Being here in Sherwood was harder than home.
In Jerusalem her brotherhood were known and the people feared them. They knew the white hood meant assassin. Here the people knew nothing of assassins, they didn’t know to fear the shadows.