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"A fearcatcher ? Reeaally ?", the dark-haired woman crooned enamored, pouring herself over the peculiar round wooden item draped with thick white thread and dark beads. Perhaps there really was a reason she had noticed this time-worn waste of space after all. "Does it really work ?"

"Shure do, ma'am!" the chubby vendor exclaimed, thrilled at the prospect of a sale, "All ya does is carry t'with you, and ye'll never fear nothin' again!"

She let out a pensive hum that the vendor translated as a secured sale. Boasting with confidence, his tone increased in pitch so that all passerbyes might hear and come to marvel at his delightful wares for, after all, what good is a merchant festival if nothing gets bought ? More potential customers strayed from the mass to stop by his small cluttered stand, eager to discover what wonders might lie in wait for them. The merchant grinned and welcomed them all, pleased beyond reason and thought. So pleased in fact that he forgot his initial secured customer, who had yet to hand him over what gold she may be carrying.

The dark-haired woman had been far too concentrated on the small circle of wood and thread to even acknowledge the gaggle of cackling peons suddenly surrounding them. Her deep black eyes scrutinized the fearcatcher with piercing accuracy, prying open the lock of its potential mysteries. The hint of a sneer crossed her lips.

Well I'll be damned, she thought to herself, somewhat impressed, it really is spellcast. Fancy that. She lifted her eyes and stared at the fat, facehaired merchant with amused disdain. How such an insignificant worm possessed an item of relative power was too revolting for words.

"Tell me, merchant," she purred, intoxicating, "does it really work ?"

The man opened his mouth to reply, but no sound c ame out. Her eyes, her mesmerizing eyes as black as the darkest of nights, they were calling out to him, whispering wondrous tales to the boy in his heart. He shook his head a moment later, remembering he was to answer her question, never noticing they seemed quite alone on this part of a very busy street.

"Shure thing, ma'am.", he eventually replied, still a little shaken, "Ya just 'old the thing and it chase all ya fear away. Belonged to a powerful man, it did, and it worked for 'im".

"Really," she sounded sceptical, "See, the problem I have is that I get no guarantee that, should I purchase your little 'fearcatcher', it will actually, you know… work. Silly little problem, really. But a poor, helpless girl like me can't be too sure what she spends her only Dragonheart gem on."

The merchant went deathly pale. Dragonheart gems, made from a deadly Dragon's blood, were extremely rare on this continent, and far more valuable than simple pieces of metal – or anything else for that matter. That she might be willing to part with such a treasure made his heart race up into his throat and tie a few tight knots there. He must not let this one go!

"Bu' of course, m'lady!" he shouted so loudly it was quite surprising that no one seemed to take notice amid the rushing streetflow a mere few feet away, "T'works, it does! Spit on the floor and carry me honor it does!", deed followed words, which made her curl up her nose in utter disgust, "No finer charm ye'll find 'round these parts, lemme tell ya! It'll suck out the fear right outta ya, that'll do! Spit on the floor and carry me —"

"UGH I believe you, just… don't do that again. You disgusting little mass of rotting flesh," she muttered her personnal apreciation of him under her breath, "Fine, I think I will relieve you of your little burden. And mine." She set the fearcatcher back down on the cluttered wooden table, staring with absolute revulsion at the glimmering gaze of the ecstatic merchant. She held out her hand to him. A brilliant, vividly red gem had appeared in its palm, a gem that seemed to be set aglow by an inner fire. The merchant's throat went dry and he choked on his own gluttuny. He coughed and wheezed and soon enough shrieked in mindless horror, attracting no one's attention. The darkness in the woman's eyes burst out of them, ensnaring the already dying human in blackness immemorial. The shadows screamed and sliced at the fading light of his soul, tearing every life within the man asunder. The merchant dropped dead in a matter of seconds, a dried out corpse frozen forever in the grip of terror.

The dark-haired woman grinned, overly pleased, and closed her empty hand. That'll teach you, you worthless sack of meat, she thought with a glare, casually picking up the fearcatcher again, "These are grown-up toys." She gave the little charm another gander and went on her way. Her grin widened when she heard more screams and shouts, imagining the pitiful humans' reaction at discovering the dead man she revealed as she walked away. She now had what she wanted, and sought a dark and clean enough alleyway to hide and play with her newly acquired trinket.

"Soooo…", she mused to the fearcatcher, turning it round and round in her hands and holding it up in front of her lustful eyes, "you're supposed to be a fearcatcher, eh ? Hahahah, how amusing. As though something as small as you might be capable of catching me."

Her long, spider-like fingers curled up around the fearcatcher, slowly crushing it with darkness and nails. It glowed a few times, slowing down its inevitable fate, but eventually the fearcatcher was reduced to nothing more than a small pile of dust, which found its escape on the many winds of the city. A strange feeling, unnamed, rose inside of her as she watched the dust disappear, followed by frustration and the urge to kill something more interesting than a dead enchanter's futile protection. It's tonight, she thought to herself as she looked up at the falling twilight, tonight, little ones, tonight I am coming to get you.

Her devilish laughter echoed on the winds long after she'd disappeared into the alley's shadows.

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