#ravenmen

The first bit of Victor (the story title being Tinkering Turmoil) I admittedly forgot about the girl at the end though, so my bad.

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They didn't seem to understand, at first, his genius. Madness they said. Uninspired heresy. They sought his condemnation, that obsessed tinkerer. And when they brought for their torches, they came with judgement on their lips.

They were met by silent, beady eyes. A hundred watchers, eyes glittering in the flaming night. Scaverngers for the blood, they thought them a sign. A grim sign of guided actions, to cement their decision

They were right, the shimmering ravens came as omen. The night was drenched in blood as they rose from their vigil. A hundred clockwork killers to protect their mad creator.

By dawn none called him a fool, none dared think him anything but genius. But none denied he was out of his wits. So they sighed in relief when he put his clockwork pets to the act of protection.

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A flourish and he swept the hat from his head, bowed low. His suit was untouched by the road's dust, his hair in perfect order. Lady Namia felt her breath catch in her throat, surprised that a gentleman could find her as she stood amongst the bodies of her fallen guards.

Smooth and sinuous, he took her hand and kissed it with soft lips. Eyes traveled up her pale arm to look into her eyes. Graceful and precise, he stood. His hand brushed back a strand of her hair. The beating of her heart grew even more wild.

He leaned in close, his breath hot on her ear. Color rose to her cheeks and unfamiliar emotions rolled around her chest.

"Be careful, my dove. Ravens fly in the night." Needlessly husky, that voice enthralled her. She had to force back a gentle moan.

And he was gone, she forgot how to breath. Distantly she heard steel clash and a grunt of pain. But she could not see it past the unlady-like reactions that man provoked in her. **** It was a grand gesture that brought the twin, filigreed blades into his hands. The woman was sufficiently distracted, he had to act fast. She would be dead weight the moment combat approached her.

His movement drew one bandit's eyes, blocked the other's sword. A kick dropped the first man and Victor turned his eyes to the other. Dirty and unrefined, the man sickened Victor.

Slamming straight into the offense, his left blade snapping into a gentle slash. Blocked, Victor let the sword drop as he rolled his other blade into an uppercut. The poniard on his hip left its scabbard with a hiss, entered the man's ribcage with another.

A series of clicks at his back came as clear warning. Sharp and abrupt, not as grandiose as he prefered, Victor spun left and the arrow missed. Gripping his blade lazily, he let his unimpeded eyes search out his next foe.

Screeching like grinding steel, Victor knew the archer would fall. He smiled. Sheathed his sword. An easy battle.

"Another move, ye little shit, and the lady gets it." Grizzled and inelegant, the man's voice was an insult.

Victor felt his eyes flash as he turned. Not as cultured a reaction as it could have been, but it was involuntary. Rage did away with any amount of manners a man might have.

"I advise you leave the little dove be." Victor was cold, blunt. As unrefined as he could manage. He hated sounding like a commoner.

"Ah, but my ravens have flown this night. We cannot return to the roost without prey." The man's eyes glittered and he gave a gaptoothed smile. Apparently the man thought himself clever, having heard Victor's words.

This provoked amusement, Victor was unaccustomed to such arrogance. "You and your petty little band of robbers are not fit to bear the title of ravens."

The smile faltered and the man looked confused. "I... thought you said..."

"I said ravens fly in the night, not that they were the creature to be feared."