Krian groaned as he rolled over in his bed. No... wait, it wasn't his bed. It was the bed in the back of the Raven, his favorite tavern. Dangit, he must have gotten drunk again. His head hurt badly and it was apparant he had consumed more ale last night then his body had been prepared to handle. He rolled over and saw a silver coin and a symbol drawn onto a scrap of parchment under it.

'Dangit! How could you?! You insane, drunk bastard! Even while drunk you shouldn't have signed one this soon! The watch is going to catch on, then what will you do?!' He sat up and stuffed both items in his pocket. The smybol had been the assassins symbol for young girl and the family symble of them, it meant to kill. His heart was thumping as he stormed out through the front bar area. There were the few dedicated drinkers there, crying to each other about thier wives and families and such. His mind was a blur as he pushed past the wench that made him agree to the deal. He glared at her and exited onto the street.

From his clothes, no one would guess that he was anything more then a poor trader. The only difference between himself and the men around him was that his clothes were mostly faded blacks, to match his dark grey eyes. His hair was dark blonde and a little past his ears, but it to was covered in dirt. It was cut jaggedly due to only useing a knife for his haircuts. He had very little odor about him, except for the slight hint of ale. It was important for one of his job to keep smells low or you might be smelled before the job was done.

He turned down an alley, climbing up the ladder there to his window. He climbed through the window and made his way across the room to his trunk.

He smiled and peeled off his nasty clothes and threw them in the corner. He picked up a rag that was in a tub of water he had and rinsed himself off. Then he dunked his head in the water and brushed it out with the old brush he owned, it would be considerably cleaner when it dried. Then he opened the trunk to his outfits. There was one, a blue and purple tunic that he hadn't used yet. It would fit in perfectly among the other nobles and he needed to fit in. He grimaced in disgust as he pulled it over his shoulders and then he viewed himself in the mirror. Hie hair had partially dried by now and he brushed through it a few more times. It was slightly wavy and a little damp by the time he slipped on his nice boots and climbed back out the window.

He came out on the other side of the alley, now on market street, and hurried along till he came to the first road of mansions. He walked along at a more leisurly pace, catching bits of conversation. After about 30 minutes of walking and picking up mannerisms he found the house and knocked on the door. He tugged his tunic straight while he fidgeted. He thought she had a few suiters, he would just act like another, she was around his age afterall. He would just, act like another love-struck boy.

Ashe woke as the sun shined through her window, and the little birds chirped at her window sill. She lay reposed on her bed, blinking in the morning light, with her long eyelashes beating against her pale cheeks. No longer a girl, and not yet a woman, she was at an awkward age, but it did not stop her from having a certain amount of grace as she walked to her mirror, having been bred and raised to such simple charms.

It was short work to get the young ladys father to believe that she had yet another admirer. He now stood in the study, the butler had been sent to fetch the Ashe, who had yet to meet her new suitor. It was only fair that she got a chance to meet him as she had every other suitor. He would get to know her over the next few weeks, and as soon as he could frame one of her slaves, or perhapes another suitor, he would assassinate her and be out fast, sticking around only long enough to seem innocent. It was perfect.

She raised the brush by her mirror and started brushing her shoulder length light brown hair - something she could easily have her maids do but which she preferred to do herself. The ivory handle of the brush was worn smooth from so much use - she had inherited it from her mothers mother before she could remember.

There was a light knock at her door - she made a small affirmative noise and the voice she knew to be her butler said quickly, "Suitor at the door." and left. Ashe sighed; she was tired of the endless rounds of carbon copy suitors. She would not come at once; no matter what they expected of her.

She called her maids in to dress her, and when she was fully clothed walked downstairs, tarrying by the kitchens and going inside to steal a warm bun. The kitchens were busy, as always, but still remembering the sweet embrace of sleep Ashe walked in a half stupor, deligthing in the warm and fragrant aromas that crept from it.

The servants there took no notice of her; neither to assist her or to hinder her; neither was their job or place. She stole out quickly and went to the garden, where she planned to leisurely finish her breakfast. Let the suitor wait - shed greet him soon enough.

(OOC(Little bit mean there hun, all I can do is stand and look pretty till you show up)

Krian sighed, brushing through his now dry and in its short, earlength ringlets. His blue eyes watched the door, waiting for a sign, maybe even a sound, that she was coming, or that she wasn't. There was a couch and two chairs in the room, centered around the fireplace but he felt like he would be intruding if he sat. This was odd behaivor and would probably be noted, but at the time he didn't know that. There were lush carpets on the floor, he sighed in slight anger. How could anyone afford these comforts, he would be lucky to get thin cloth on his floor.

With a sigh, he relaxed a little wo wait, shoulders slumping in a non noble like way, just until she got there, he promised himself.