Micali Alsara

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Micali Alsara
“I won’t let her get hurt. Or anyone, for that matter, aside from those involved.”
519

31 | Laicar
Cold and distant, Micali is both elusive and intimidating. She seems the kind of woman that detaches herself emotionally, but should conflict arise, she's all in. She has a softer spot for those she's known longer, but generally prefers as little affection as possible. She can become erratic, seemingly random topics setting her off. Being a contract killer, she's also able to compartmentalize her profession from her ethics. She's a driven woman, finding an objective and working towards it, regardless of what - or who - may stand in her way.
With shoulder blade-length brown hair and shifting brown eyes, Micali stands at 5'8 and roughly 155lbs. A large colony of scars are visible along what parts of her skin are visible aside from her face. These scars are mirrored by presumably dozens more beneath her clothing. She walks with purpose, every step seeming to be toward something. To a stranger she may seem paranoid, constantly checking over her shoulders. There's an air of mystery to her, something in her demeanor that begs the question of "why do you behave in the ways that you do?"
The Laicar wears baggy tunics, lightweight enough for an escape, should it be necessary, but sturdy enough to mean she won't freeze or die too easily, most of her body covered. Beneath is a tank top of varying dark colors. She has a hooded dark grey cloak and a matching set of scarf and gloves. Her hair is tied tight in a braid, loose behind her neck or over her shoulders, and has a spread of bangs steadfast upon her forehead. She's rarely seen without Cora, her longbow, which is carved with small whispers only its owner knows the truth of.
Born in Lucrus, a city to the far east of Terminus but still in Hiemis, Micali Alsara was barely a toddler when her parents were killed and she was taken in by the Insidiis. The criminal organization operated primarily within and around the city, and largely focused on business ventures with the city’s council and various dealings with the upper class. As she was raised by a set of assigned raisers within the Insidiis, Micali learned much more about its origins, its leadership, and its purpose. The leader of the Insidiis was Editus Malum, a demvir man who also held a seat on the high council. The Insidiis at large was a tool of his to enact his plans to change the city - a means to an end. So when the day came that they stuck a gun in Micali’s barely-teenaged hands, she knew full well what to do with it. Over years of training and honing her skills, Micali was deemed one of the best trainees that the organization had seen, and that Editus had his eye specifically on her. At eighteen, Micali was given work. Small dealings with nobles, an assassination here, a theft there.

Given the nature of the Insidiis, there were three tenets to always abide by as an agent. The first of which was as expected; do not speak of the Insidiis outside of the Insidiis. To do so would result in immediate termination. The second was to maintain the course that all the organization does shall help the city eventually, that the deaths and crimes would one day pave a path for all to be more equal in the heavily economically divided city of Lucrus. The third was to never harm a child. Children were innocent above all else, as any babe cannot select its origin. Over time, the third tenet escaped the secrecy of the crime group and became a popular concept throughout the entire city, making child abuse and neglect something beyond unforgivable. Micali abided by all three tenets as instructed and raised to, though it didn’t do much to curb her nature to push bounds. Many times did her raisers discipline her, much to her bemusement that the third tenet was excusable if dressed up as a lesson.

She wasn’t without friendship, though, as rest time within the Insidiis headquarters saw many of the agents and operatives interacting. Charisma wasn’t Micali’s strong suit, but she had acquaintances here and there, which made it all much easier. Three years of solo work later, Micali was deemed ready for a job that entailed a promotion of sorts, but that other operatives would be on the same mission - a challenge to see whom could kill the most of the targets. She wasn’t filled in on all the information, was told that all would be clear in time, and was briefed that a set of upper-middle class nobles had made attempts to re-open the fighting pits in the city’s middle-class sector. Editus had made some promises to another noble that it would be stopped, and so the operatives were being rolled out as the means to an end.
It was late Sobrius, and the air had begun to get a chill to it, breath crept from mouths in a white mist. She counted a dozen breaths below her in the square. The slums were less than ideal - poverty doesn’t breed proper architecture - but this square was one of the few locations in the slums that was considered beautiful. Given how cold the day was, she wasn’t surprised that there was a lack of people around. A small stand set up in the corner of the square peddled crafted jewelry. Small twinkles of dirty brown glass occasionally shone in her face as the stand owner lifted various necklaces to the pair of women that perused. Six children and three adults were closer to the fountain, the children played some sport that Micali couldn’t recognize and the adults cheered them on.

The fountain in the center of the square was made up of eroded stone and water which was just a little too brown to be drinkable. She stood from her hiding spot, a balcony extended around a wooden flight of stairs. It was a library before it was shut down about a year back, and it provided enough sight and privacy for her to finish the job, as the cold kept most of the occupants inside. She raised Cora, arrow already knocked, and aimed for a few seconds before she released the tensed bowstring. It found its mark, and the two adults that remained had scattered while the people at the stand all huddled behind it. The six children dropped to the ground, and braced themselves for the encounter to end.

There was a custom in the slums of Lucrus, that most crime is common but the harm of a child was inexcusable. Micali had never faltered in her adherence.

She crouched, then, pulled the harness off her bag, and strapped Cora in before it was slung back over her shoulder. She rose, and was relieved when she noticed that the square was as she’d left it not twenty seconds earlier. By the time she’d fully descended the stairs and turned back towards the body, he was near his end. The breaths he took as she walked up were short, and slowed as she kneeled above him.

By the time she fished the forest green origami flower out of her leather hip bag, his palm was pliant beneath her. After she wrapped his thick digits around the paper flora, she rose and left the square behind her, which now only held nine breaths.

The walk through the slums was as predictable as ever. It was quiet, which fit for the temperature, though there was the faint hum of cold in the air. The corpse she left behind in that square would not haunt her; she was merely the tool used to kill. Remove her, and the intent was still there, just without the efficiency. The female enlil that hired her would be pleased that it went so smoothly. She tried to do this as little as possible. In the last three years she’d been in Lucrus, she’d killed eight people. Four laicar, one enlil, one demvir, and two velen, now. The money could typically hold her over for a few months at a time, since she didn’t have to worry about housing.

Now that she’d made it a few blocks away from the square, the streets turned into alleys, and the truth of the slums became more apparent. The buildings became ramshackle huts that were made from rusted metal and leaned on rocks and trees. With little privacy, it wasn’t hard to see the people huddled together inside, some had fires that barely burned, though most were just families that used body heat to survive the especially cold evening.

The people outside had most of her pity. Loners with no family to provide heat, no shelter, poor excuses for clothes. A woman nursed one child while the other leaned into her available side, and she had a cold sweat. Micali reached into a pocket in her hip bag and dropped several coins while she walked past. Before the woman had a chance to respond, Micali was gone. The worst parts of the slums were behind her eventually, and she recognized the beginning of the mercantile district. The dirt that fought her footfalls was eventually replaced for cold, hard stone. Light emanated from nearby lampposts, the sun passing the crest of its setting. She was glad to be closer to home.

There was a tavern that was in the heart of Lucrus, named Dom’s. It was close to the slums but within the aforementioned mercantile district, so the patrons varied from those with only enough to pay for a warm drink, to those who collected taxes on the surrounding buildings. Dom was the essential Lucrusian working man, and he and Micali went way back. He accepted anyone into his bar with open arms, and genuinely cared for both his employees and customers. She’d been staying with him for about two and a half years.

Dom’s came into view after a few more blocks of the slowly darkening evening, and a few patrons spilled out as she approached. The heat was welcome when she opened the door and entered, a jolly “Mick!” came from the portly olive green enlil she called friend. “Pull up a stool, we don’t close for a few minutes.”




 
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