Indistinct shouts could be heard ringing down the streets, exclamations of "street rats" as well as "thieves" and other more derogatory terms. It was a lovely day in Goldenfield, a soft breeze whistling through the trees and plains for miles around...but it did nothing to cool the sweat off the two children running from the thundering steps pursuing them. Scornful cries were hurled at the younglings as flashes of red skin and lashing tales are spotted dragging carts and pushing down people to evade the guards.
"C'mon, this way," the male child hushed to the female he was pulling along beside him, who was almost in tears. "It's fine Damia, but we need to lay low again for a bit is all." They dashed into the woods near the town, leaving the scowling adults at the edge of the wall where they gave up their chase. Muttering about the brats, they returned to their posts to resume sleeping their problems away. A benefit to the captain being just as lazy as them. Only pushed to action when it's more of a hassle not to do something about it, and those kids have been a problem. The male, Damien, was 13 while his sister Damia was 10. Someone surely would have taken them in if not for the infernal blood in their veins.
Damien slowed down as he brought his sister into the woods, taking in her pained expression as he brought her up to their only friend. Liferlas. Since age 7 when he found him, he has come here when he and Damia needed to lay low, after their parents left. One day they woke up and they were gone. No trace, no note. So he took care of her. They had lived on the outskirts, so no one really noticed...until the thieving started.
Years ago...that was years ago.
Damia opened her eyes with an exhausted sign, staring up at Liferlas's leaves. Twelve years ago, she finally realized how mistrusting humans were. Selfish and cruel towards the ones they couldn't be bothered to understand, leaving children to fend for themselves, her brother doing what he could for them to survive. She could never forget what he looked like, seeing him in her dreams since the day he left seven years ago. A traveling group, from some guild of thieves, convinced him to leave her there alone in that town. He had left her a note in their old home, a place she rarely visited now, a hollow tomb of memories of the family that abandoned her. With a gentle pat on one of the trees' roots she rolled to her feet, adjusting her long purple locks into a low ponytail before tucking it into the back of her cloak. She lifted the hood over her head, and brought it low to cover her face, her tail wrapped around her leg and gloves to hide her red skin. Time to go into town once again.
Silent as her days in the woods, she moved through the early morning mist into the town through a small hole in the wall. As she moved through alleys, her mind began to drift back, to the day her brother left her. To the note she always kept in her pocket. Sure she survived from the skills her brother taught her, Damien was always extraordinarily stealthy, according to him that is why they wanted him. But not her. She was a girl; too young and too clumsy, to be of use. But now...now she had made a little more of herself through careful practice of those skills, and others she picked up from travelers. If someone desired an object, they were normally sent to her. She didn't know how, but they always found her. She never denied a job, and always got cut a fair amount. The only issue was the lack of extremely valuable items in a farmer town. Nothing ever worth enough for even a week at the inn. Some people paid in skills, teaching her how to be better on her feet. Some in swordplay. And skills might not give one a bed at night, but they were useful all the same.
The vendors were slowly but surely setting up shop and either ignoring her or not noticing, as she ghosted past she snatched an apple, a small loaf of bread, and the smallest little cheese wheel. It was easier now. She went on her way through the vendor street to the back of the inn where she climbed to the roof, taking a seat a little ways from the edge. The best view for the beginning of the day, when travelers were about with money jingling in their purses, ripe for the taking. As the sun began to crest over the trees filling the town with a soft golden light, a number of travelers started filling the square.
"Here buddy. Stay put for a little bit." Damia fed her little field mouse Fletch a chunk of bread, giving his head an affectionate stroke as she crouched closer to the edge of the building. "Hmm…" Scanning the streets, a smirk crept over her features as she picked out her next target. What looked to be a man cloaked in black, much like herself except his clothing was far nicer. Regardless, dressed in something so dark they likely wouldn't notice a thing or two missing until she was long gone. With her normal silent gait she scaled down the building, sliding up the alley and hiding in the shadows at the corner. As the cloaked figure passed she dropped into a crouch and reached out to snatch the satchel from behind him, only to be frozen in her tracks as a blue hand made of brilliant flames wrapped around her wrist.