Finn was born and raised a predator.

Ever since he was young, his first memories had put him pitted against entities that saw him as no more than a food source. They wished to kill him, not due to any malicious intent or desire to cause pain, but survival. The creatures were bigger, stronger, and faster than he was. That had caused him to rely not only on the protection and support of his family, but also his ability to detect his surroundings. His senses had to be as keen as humanly possible; To pick up on small details that others perhaps would have never considered. A broken branch on an unformed trail, or a clearing whose only sin was its different smell, was his thin line between life and death.

As his prowess increased, one thing that became obvious was that power was subjective. A creature that could rip trees from the earth would be felled by a single bite from a venomous snake. All it took was being caught unawares and even the smallest threat could expose your weakness. One would think that acclimating to humanity would lower this risk, but all it did was change the vectors. No longer was it the rogue, venom ladled creature that would avoid confrontation until it was forced to strike at the titan.

No, they were all snakes. And Finn was considered an unsuspecting target.

Even now, well over a decade later, Finn was extremely cautious. The smallest changes, or alterations in his surroundings, caught his attention. Of course he had noticed the fact that his once loud, and still heavy door now moved silently upon its hinges. Perhaps there was a part of him that had noticed the lilac hair. Yet in a city full of snakes, he had never even processed her as a unique threat. Despite the residence he was staying in having changed such a major, and one could argue obvious alert at his entrance way, he paid it no mind.

And while he had heard no footsteps entering his abode, he had certainly heard the creak of the living room table as its weight shifted significantly upon its frame. Perhaps the mistake was his own, thinking that even for a moment he'd found a reprieve from the threats outside his home. He had been naive to consider this temporary lodging as a residence, though. Of course it was subject to such threats. And now, as he stood in the doorway leading from his bedroom, he saw another with their hands on his weapon against the threats that sat in wait.

"That doesn't belong to you." His voice held a certain gravitas that matched the stern gaze which found itself upon his face. His fists clenched and eased, his mind processing how to handle this situation. Part of him had immediately gone the route of identifying her as a threat, and that seemed to honestly be the safe decision here. Yet there was a part of him, as distant as it was, which urged some level of patience.

So, for now, he conceded to that voice.

"And I suggest that you put it back where it belongs." He would give her a chance. He fought the nagging voice in his head that mocked his decision, taunting him with the idea that it would bite him in the ass. Instead, he decided, he would try via non-violence. It would be up to her now how this interaction continued. Truth be told, he was hoping the voice in his head was wrong. This time, at least, he truly didn't wish to escalate the situation.

The moonlight came into the otherwise unlit apartment, reflecting off her markings as if they weren't tattoos at all. The woman before him had a unique appearance about her, he noticed. Her skin was pale, an off hue of what a normal person would look. Her eyes were of the same glowing amethyst as her markings, yet Finn didn't consider for a second that she was anything but human. He had seen enough variation within his own kind to not find such minor differences an indicator of anything overly unique.

She spoke to him, responding to his words in kind and reflecting his accusation back at him. She had a confidence about her that he could not quite place. Was it in her abilities to fight and escape, or in the situation and its chances of escalation? His eyes narrowed, but his annoyance seemed to have dissipated mildly. She was willing to address him, and had made no sudden movements. There wasn't a reason for him to be the one to escalate now. A vague image of what would have occurred had he not returned so quickly to the room flashed before his eyes, but he decided not to focus on what could have been.

"Do you believe them?" He spoke only after she had directed her questions t him, offering to take it off his hands if he were to only name a price. Yet despite his own inquiry, he did not wait for an answer.

"My brother and I fought many battles. In one such battle, at the end of a long abandoned ruin, this blade was there. Supposedly it has had quite the history." His eyes were locked onto hers, as if daring her to find falsehoods in his words. "It left my ownership while I traveled the continent, maintained by my friend and guild-mate until I returned and it was put back into my possession. I am the rightful owner of that weapon, and it has chosen me as such." He was referring to his appearance, changed by the blade. Yet there was no reason to give such a story to one who didn't know what he looked like to begin with.

"And I have no need for more jewels. It's not for sale, and I will continue to swing that weapon until I die."

"Now," he began, crossing his arms and staring at her. "Who are you? Who paid you? And are you willing to let this matter go with just our discussion here tonight?"

The woman seemed to react to his words, her body losing its tension and her shoulders finally rising and falling in rhythm, signalling that she was no longer holding her breath. For him, it was proof that the risk to his weapon was now gone and that he could drop his guard slightly. Still, there was a part of him that remained ready to move. One couldn't expect someone to immediately trust the one who was just trying to rob them blind, after all.

She spoke of the weapon, offering her guesses to its origin, and with that Finn gazed at the metal that she lifted into her hands. The way it reflected what little light made it into the room made it shine, and he wondered what of her guesses might have been accurate. The runes engraved into the mighty creation certainly hinted to Dwarven beginnings, as did the massive weight of the blade. The weapons shape, and the fact that it was more a long sword than a claymore, hinted towards an Elvish history. Still, the intricate design of the hilt and the known history of the weapon pointed at a purely Human background. Regardless of where this legendary piece lay its origin, it was certainly something that would catch anyone's attention.

Quickly, now apparently at home in her surroundings, the Voidling turned and made her way to the window. It gave an inlet to the room from the streets, and as her eyes scanned it, she explained a little bit more of her arrival. Finn listened with bated breath. His first reaction was incredulous, wondering who on Earthland would want him targeted in such a way. When he realized his now growing reputation within Fiore as well as the fact that he seemed more than willing to swing that weapon around, he realized that it wasn't quite as surreal as he had once thought. Still, as she was now learning, he had grown more magnanimous as he aged.

"Well, you're still able to explain this to me. So I guess in that way they were right; I've not threatened your life other than in warning." He walked further into the room, now that the curtains were closed, sitting upon the center coffee table that sat Durendal. "But truth is, your questions kind of hard to answer. There are just too many variables that we don't have answers for. There's a chance that they hoped you'd be the one thief who could take my weapon. There's a chance they hoped one of us would die tonight. If I were to bet, though, I think I'd rule out the chance of them having expected you not to be caught."

Her final question, though, was much harder to answer. He thought to his renown throughout Fiore, and the continent beyond. He thought of his epithet that had been pinned to him like a royal title, one that had followed him even into his most recent confrontation. His hand went to his chest with a frown on his face, feeling the still bruised flesh and bone from the full frontal attack that had been fired point blank just the night before. His cheeks, though now tanner than they once were, showed the dim hints of a red hue. Luckily the room was not very well lit, so there was a chance she wouldn't see. Still; To say his own title here was something he simply wasn't prepared for.

"Hardly," he said, after delaying long enough that it became obvious he was avoiding the question. "Though I'm assuming you must be within your circle, in order to get such a high risk job. And you're quite the strange case." His words trailed off, as having arrived on another thought before having finished his sentence. "A thief who is skilled enough to enter undetected, wise enough to give up her job, trusting enough to talk to her mark, and smart enough to be honest. I'll be honest, you're the strangest thief I've ever met. I'm Finn, by the way. Since your mission is over and we're sitting here talking about our lives, I figured we should at least know each others names."

Then, grinning as if he thought his next words were funnier than they were morbid, he added in something to try and ease any tension she had left. "I promise, if I was ever a threat to you I'm not now so long as you leave my damn things in peace."

The woman before him had seemingly gotten frustrated, her grievance showing through her body language. Finn stared at her closely, noticing that her movements mimicked his own from a few moments ago. Her hands clenched into tight balls, relaxing only to repeat the process. Her body tensed, and her lips seemed to draw themselves into a tight crease. Her words seemed to carry the same annoyance in her voice, and she spit them out as though she could no longer hold onto them. He eyed her carefully, though his body language never seemed to shift. Under normal circumstances, he would have likely shifted to match her at least a little bit; Something to show he was ready to react should her irritation evolve into aggression.

Yet he didn't.

Perhaps it was their brief exchange, or just a gut feeling that he found difficult to put into words, but he couldn't see her escalating the situation. As he had said, she seemed entirely too weird for her profession. As she turned and finished speaking to him, his eyes widened slightly. This girl seemed immature, rash, and quick to decision. The issues before her were practically polarized, and the nuance of the situation lost on her. He had no frame of reference to understand if this represented her as a whole, or if the situation had brought this out in her. Regardless, it wouldn't have effected how Finn responded. He looked down at his blade and sighed. She reminded him so much of the past. So much of myself...

For a moment, his brother flashed into his memory and a chuckle escaped his lips. He closed his eyes, bringing his thumb and index finger to the bridge of his nose and sighing. He stood, grabbing his great blade and sheathing it onto his back. "Jake, I owe you an apology." Was this what it felt like all those years ago? She seemed to know absolutely nothing about him, yet spoke as if doing him a favor. He wondered whether or not the irony of the situation was lost on her, but then slipped out the door with a silence that the thief may have been proud of. While Finn had never stolen, he had lived almost half of his life being hunted in the Worth Woodsea. If there was one thing he mastered, it was moving around quietly.

As he let himself outside, he saw the girl pulling further and further away from his hotel room. He let himself follow her, attempting to keep the same distance between them as what he began with. He had no way of knowing that she could likely hear every step he made, nor could he process the fact that her own movements made not a single noise. Unlike her, the distance between them would make picking up on that sort of detail nigh impossible. He may have pushed his senses to the peak of a Human, but he was still just a human.

It wasn't long until she had seemingly reached her destination, and though she had almost certainly heard him she was kind enough to not react to his presence. Whether or not that was due to her helping him retain the element of surprise for her customers, or whether her mind was so preoccupied she didn't even process he was there, he'd be grateful. Now, all he had to do was wait for whoever was working with her. She had offered to resolve this issue, but Finn wasn't going to leave her to that task alone.

Finn had trailed a fair distance from the Voidling, unaware that she had clearly picked up on his movements since the moment that he left the house. He also would have no idea that her lack of interest in his actions led her to completely ignore his movements the moment after she detected him, thus leaving her likely unaware of his proximity. While she had pulled ahead quite quickly, he had luckily been able to follow her well enough and had wound up at the warehouse where she was meant to meet with her customers.

Sadly, while he had found himself at the correct spot, he had not been able to time his arrival well. By the time he had made his way to the entrance, the events within the warehouse had already begun to escalate beyond what he anticipated. He had predicted a trap, something like an assassin or a would-be bomb lying in wait for someone to enter the building. The idea that the customers would be waiting, in force, to take out the thief was beyond his expectations.

Luckily, the warrior was one who could react quickly to the changing tides before him. The girl, being dragged across the ground with a wire wrapped firmly around her neck, was who he had to reach. Kicking off the ground with a speed that seemed to exceed one someone should have been capable of while handling such a massive blade, Finn closed the gap between them in a short amount of time. The girl was obviously focused not on the man darting in her direction, but on the wired collar continuously forcing her to the ground and the now bright light generated from a fairly massive magic circle.

She'd have seen it unhindered for but a moment before Finn would enter her peripherals, sliding to a stop about a meter in front of her and between her and the massive inferno. He was not considering the variables, nor had he processed their odds within this warehouse. He had confidence that he could fight his way out of any situation, and he believed that if the girl was free from her bindings she could do the same. All he had to do right now was free Nuala, and they would certainly be fine. As he grasped the hilt of Durendal, he drew it from his back and slashed it through the air with blinding speed, the blade coming into contact with the inferno. A chain reaction was caused from the exact spot and moment the blade hit the spell, and before the heat could travel any further it dissolved away into a sort of dust, falling into the wind.

Yet, due to his rushed actions and lack of consideration for what was going on, he made a mistake he hadn't made in years. He was sloppy. How could he have considered, even for a moment, that this crime lord was so tedious in his preparations? How could he have considered that someone would hide a physical attack directly inside of a magical one. His mind flashed to his fight with Vali and Shichiro, though the irony of the situation would not be realized until later.

Finn's eyes had barely processed the irregularly thick crossbow bolt, and his body reacted by instinct. He dropped his center of gravity, turning his shoulder to the side, instantly moving his chest and thus saving his life. The bolt pierced his body, through the right side of his chest, and traveling cleanly through. His bodies movement, or maybe simply the angle of impact, redirected the bolt away from Nuala, thus saving her from the damage.

Finn's knees buckled, but he was able to stay on his feet. His eyes were wide, a wheezing gasp escaping his lips in a tsunami of blood. His white top was splotched red, the stain growing by the second. Yet he was not unconscious. Perhaps it was the adrenaline, or the rage, but he was standing. His eyes shot back to the crime lord's mage and soldiers, signalling the eruption of an aura from his body. They would be forced to take a step back and hesitate in their actions. He wanted to free Nuala, but he now knew he couldn't turn his back on the attackers. If only he hadn't been so foolish; he'd never made a mistake like this before.

Intimidate:

This wasn't how it was suppose to go.

Not just this event, but anything. Finn was a warrior. He had fought, time and time again, with his life on the line. More often than not he fought against impossible odds, a man who held no magic in a world dominated by the manipulation of mana. It wasn't as though he had always been at his current level. Most of his life was spent without the weapon he currently held, capable of smacking away spells so long as he had the reserves to do so. There were times when he should have been the weakest man on the battlefield, yet he would always find a way to eek out a victory. Even when his brother had no longer been with him, Finn found a way to use any slight advantage as much as possible.

That had been his life up until now. So how was it, against people of meager strength in a warehouse of no significance, did he find himself in this predicament? His chest, pierced through by a bolt of all things, was leaking blood faster than he had felt in a long time. He felt the long forgotten sensation of air not quite entering his lungs, proof that one of his lungs had been pierced in the attack. He felt every beat of his heart, exemplified by the pulsation of crimson from his chest. And as Nuala took care of those in the warehouse, Finn felt his cement limbs tighten up more and more. He couldn't move, and he knew it. The adrenaline in his body worked to keep him alive, and the cells in his chest did everything they could to curb the bleeding, but he was slowly dying on his feet and he knew it.

This wasn't how it was suppose to be.

As the voidling came over and sat him down, Finn went to protest, but he couldn't. His vision blurred, and his mind began to fuzz. The static of his thoughts became overwhelming, and his eyes began to slowly glaze over. He had felt this sensation twice before, but there was something different about this one. He had not been on some battlefield, representing his sense of righteousness. He had not been struck down following his dream.

He had been hit by an attack that should have never come near him, in a warehouse in the nations capital.

He was scared.

As Nuala stood him back up, he knew she said something. He looked at her, but her face seemed so empty. Where prominent features once were, he saw nothing. It was as though he could only see her outline, and everything in between were blurred masses of colors that he couldn't make out. He opened his mouth to speak, but felt instead the flood of sticky crimson dribble onto his chin. He dropped his head, realizing now how heavy it had been, and spit onto the ground. There was no saliva.

"Are you okay?" His voice croaked out, barely a whisper. Had she not perfect hearing, a perk Finn still did not know, she'd have never heard him. "Please, be safe." His eyes had drained now of any sense of light. His skin had paled fare beyond one would think possible, and though the trail he left whilst being practically dragged had thinned, that was certainly not a positive sign. His eyes drooped, and though they remained open slightly there was nothing but darkness now.

"We're here to..." Help. Jake was there. He felt the paw slide into his hand, and his eyes fluttered. An orange blur, perhaps, that was gone as quickly as it had come. Finn felt the urge to smile, but he no longer had the strength. You're back.

"Of course buddy, I never left. Go to sleep, okay? You need to rest."

I've missed you so much Jake. I've been so scared. I don't know what to do anymore. How did you always have the answers?

"Well, that's just it pal. I didn't. I still don't. I'm just like you. I'm scared literally all the time. Things are pretty bonkers like that. But, well, you just have to keep trying. And keep moving. And sometimes, when you find friends who are willing to change a little for you, you can use that to help you along the way."[/i]

Without realizing it, tears had begun trickling down the warriors cheeks. Consciousness had long since left him, and wherever he was now was a mystery. His fate had been entirely left to the woman who carried him.

I'm so scared.

"I know, Finn. I know. You don't have to be though. No matter what happens, you don't have to be. So just rest."

Will you be here when I wake up?

"... Just rest now, Finn."

[EXIT][/i]