They had planned to meet up today, but the rain must have slowed him down... Cursing slightly, Django looked out of his window onto the streets below, searching for a familiar figure amid the cobblestones.
Or at least tried to. This rain was hard to look through.
Nevertheless, Django remained hopeful. Zherros was never late... on important nights, anyway. And festival planning ranked at least top five things to be excited for. That, and the rumor Django heard that there was another noble ball coming up, which meant more exquisite food would be inevitably thrown away. Turning away from the window, he sat on his bed again and grimaced.
'My poor foodstuffs, so tasty, wasted without care...' Luckily, Django had methods to secure grub meant to be disposed of. His favorite of which being to just steal some before the party even started, thus avoiding the problem altogether. While effective, did this actually solve the problem, or count as saving disposed food?
'...Maybe not. Definitely not.'
In any case, the more important news was the festival. Not only was it a culturally important kingdom event, that only happened once a year, but this year's festival may be the first time Django could actually go. Because this year, Zherros said he found a way to do it.
Zherros usually reached Django's tower top room by scaling the castle while dodging guards. Django was not built for that kind of parkour, though, so the only way he was getting out was the front door... which was not happening.
So he was curious as to what Zherros had planned.
As if on cue, Django heard the sound of tapping on his window. Turning his head, a silhouette of another boy his age smiled like the Cheshire cat through the rain. Grinning, Django set the empty book down and moved to unlatch the window. It was locked, of course, under lock and key, like his door. And as far as the castle knew, it was always that way. But Django had forced it open a long time ago... It wasn't like anyone was venturing into his room to check.
"Django, hurry up an' let me in!" came muffled from outside as Django messed with the janky broken lock. It just took a little finagling, and the window sprung free, nearly smacking Django's face... which had happened before, the first time the two had met. Zherros was a bit of a troublemaker, with a specific tendency to get places he wasn't supposed to be, which got him in a lot of trouble. According to Zherros, he had once been caught in the kitchen of a tavern... after an entire night of him ransacking the place and stealing all the beer and pastries. He was barely kept out of jail by profusely apologizing while sprinting from the city guards until it all died down.
Zherros initially wanted to test his skills of trespassing by getting to the most difficult place he could think of -- the highest tower on the castle. The rest was history; Zherros got an equally devious friend in the form of a disgraced thief prince, and Django got a friend seemingly immune (or at least highly resistant) to his curse.
Opening the window all the way, Zherros shook off the rain as he stumbled through the awkward opening. He sported dark brown hair that fell almost to his shoulders, with bangs cut out above his eyes. Combined with his more rugged exterior well, soft hazel eyes, and rugged clothes, Zherros looked very plain. A far cry from the regality Django possessed from birth, however diluted by his isolation. Django however, unlike his royal "peers," didn't mind associating with "dirty commoners." Quite the opposite, in fact. It was a fresh breath of air to be friends with a person who tolerated him.
Running a hand through his bangs in an attempt to get the mass of wet hair out of his face, Zherros frowned at Django.
"Dang man, you tryna get me killed? Any longer an' I woulda froze!"
"Would've done wonders for that attitude of yours," Django retorted, "but never mind that, let's cut to the chase. What's the plan for tomorrow night?"
A mischievous smile spread across Zherros' face as he sat on Django's bed. "It's simple, really. I've worked long and hard, but I think I finally found a way down that won't get us caught."
Django frowned. "Wait. So you have been getting caught?"
Zherros gasped, looking at Django with an expression of betrayal on his face. "Me, Zherros, master of escape, get caught? I thought you knew me, Django! In fact, I had to find a way to get you down. No offense, but you don' strike me as the type to be acrobatic."
Django couldn't refute that. Nodding, he continued, "That's all well and good, but then what? People are gonna freak out when they see me in the streets. Then it won't matter how acrobatic you are, we're still getting every guard chasing us. What's your plan for that, Mr. Escape Artist?"
Somehow, Zherros' smile grew even bigger. "Thought you'd say that," he said, pulling something out from behind his back, "that's why I cooked up this beauty for ya." He handed the mystery object to Django.
"Wow," Django whispered, turning it over in his hands. It was an ornate, wooden black mask that would cover his eyes and forehead, like a large domino mask without see through eyes. It was in the image of a crow, with feathers carved into the dark wood and a beak protruding over the nose. It was masterfully crafted, a true work of art.
"Where on earth did you get this, Zherros?" Django asked, to which Zherros chuckled before replying, "Let's just say I had to call in a favor or two. No biggie for a master of the streets like myself." Zherros sat back with a smile a bit too smug for such a humble man. "With this, no one will recognize that forehead tat of yours... and it'll fit nicely with the aesthetic. Truly, I am an expert in planning."
"Thanks, Zherros," Django said, still marveling over the polished wood, "It's incredible."
Zherros clapped his hands together before saying, "Alright, now that disguises are covered, it's time we actually go over the plan in detail. Well, my plan."
Django couldn't agree more.