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Author's Note: originally started in May, 2016. Artwork used belongs to its respective owner. If you are the original artist and wish for me to take it down, simply notify me and I will comply.

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Days in the Life of a Thieving Youth

Meet Nina.

Nina was short for Eponine, the name her father gave her; she claimed she didn't like it, so she insisted that all went by her aforementioned nickname. Nina was a girl with interesting qualities and colors, colors which were bizarre and strange; few could remake such a hue, no matter how much painted they mixed.

Nina, likewise, was a crafty girl.

Nina had plenty potential to be a conniving girl. Often times, she acted upon, sharpening even, such potential.

Nina got away with a lot of things... Somehow. Perhaps it was that girlish charm of hers, but then again, such 'girlish' charm never got far with guys, who she, not even to save her poor life, could not communicate with them. So... Perhaps Nina was just had a knack for getting away with stuff. In certain aspects, that was applaudable. Others... Not so much. Nonetheless, she got away with almost every instance anyways, regardless of how moral they were.

Every once and a while, when Corrin invited her to his quarters for a chat, Nina would try to snag something- anything- whether it be a book or a quill or a... Pair of boxer shorts. This was easily something to discriminate, seeing that Corrin was very kind to her even when he was aware of the strange whereabouts her daydreams wandered.

Flushing, she leaned her head from side to side, her voice with a slight quiver.

"It was nice having you over today, Nina." Corrin smiled. "Our chat was lovely. I'll have you over again sometime soon; I make it an endeavor of mine to know as many of my troops as I can."

"Oh no, no need to worry about boring ol' me," she said, hiding her prize behind her thigh as she backed towards the doorway. "I'm a simple girl, you know? I think you should take the time to learn more about people way more interesting... Well, unless you're planning to also invite one of your guy friends the next time I'm over..." she chortled then, hiding a smirk.

Corrin laughed with her for completely different reasons.

"You're such a joker."

Sometimes, Nina was so good at getting away with things, even if she blatantly told the person she was robbing was being robbed, they wouldn't bat an eye.

"No, no, really! It would be really fun to have a quartet some night. I mean, all I do is come over here and steal some of your stuff while you're not looking... No fun in that, right?"

This only made Corrin laugh once again.

"Ha! Who knew you were such a wise-cracker; you're just like your father almost, except less... Offensive."

And, the first thing Nina did upon departing from Corrin's quarters was dart straight over to the camp where the maze of tents stood, all staked tightly into the ground. She made her way into its heart, passing by those shooting a breeze, those arguing... Of course, she had to stop and watch when she caught eye of some boys in the heat of a wrestling match.

At last, she arrived where she intended to arrive; with the tip of her boot, she kicked the leather entrance of one of the many tents, waiting for the flap to vomit its inhabitant, and vomit its inhabitant it did; exit a young man, his face timid, but his shoulders fairly broad. He looked up at her with wonder.

"Nina..." he said softly. "Can I help you?"

"Not at all, Ignatius." she announced, holding out an article of clothing. "You said you needed a new pair of underwear, didn't you? Lucky I just so happened to know where to get one."

Quickly, as he slid out of his tent, Ignatius' eyes widened, his hands hesitantly reaching out to receive what was offered.

"Um... Wow... Thank you." he started awkwardly. "Are they uh... New?"

A flush crept across her face.

"I'm not entirely sure how to answer that... Let's just call it gently used." it was with that, she turned around, flipping one of her long braids over her shoulder. "Enjoy!" she walked away before Ignatius could say anything more.

Rather pleased with herself, Nina walked along camp, enjoying the breeze of the day; there was unarguably great weather, just a hint of hickory smoke steaming from the mess hall (a hearty dinner was surely in store for tonight), the birds chirped along...

...Well, like usual, things were going her way...

"Hey kid." a raspy voice sounded from above.

Now, Nina was a rational person; even though the voice clearly came from above her ears, she knew that people, besides those mounted atop wyverns, could not fly. So, being logical, she chose not to listen to her instincts and look up, but instead began to search around her, not seeing a soul besides those in the distance, obviously not wielding a voice loud enough to reach her ears as clearly as this; she gave up soon, then craned her neck upwards.

A man was sitting atop a thick branch in a tree, dressed in green, a quiver of arrows in his lap; he was busy sharpening their tips, replacing them in their container before moving on to the next. A cape trailed down his back, smooshed against the trunk of his chair; his hair was a mix between gray and black, wrinkles gradually beginning to show on his tan skin.

She frowned.

"Shura." she replied back, unsure of how to greet him. It was obvious as to why; she didn't have a lick of an idea of who this guy was, even though her eyes were almost everywhere with her tendency of... For a lack of better words... Spying. Shura was a pruning man; he wasn't cute. Like heck Nina had any reasons to follow him around, observing him from afar. She knew little, that little being just a name.

"Funny seeing you here, I was just thinking about 'cha."

Her face soured.

"Y-You were thinking about me?" she echoed, almost horrified. "Don't you know how creepy that makes you sound?"

"Hey, don't act like you're any less creepy. Stand still for a moment and listen to what else I have to say for Pete's sake." he put another arrow in his quiver, careful not to drop it. "You know, you and I are the only adventurers around, haven't you noticed? I say those of the same class should stick together, sound about right? I mean, it's not like we already don't share a whole lot in common; you're a thief too, aren't you?"

She crossed her arms quickly, shutting her eyes tightly.

"Not just some thief that steals something because they like it; I prey on the rich and powerful when they're rich and powerful at the expense of the poor. What sort of thievery do you do?"

Shura chuckled.

"Ah, so you're like a she-Robin Hood, hmm?"

She released a huff.

"Well it's no lie that Robin Hood was a favorite of mine when my father came to the Deeprealms every once in a blue moon to read me a story; I guess you could call me that if you wanted to."

"Explains why you chose to fight with bows."

"Mmm hmm. Father's a bit to blame as well."

"Interesting. Well, my story's a bit different in comparison to yours, but I think we'd be great training partners. Whaddaya say? Care to exchange tips and tricks in the name of iron sharpening iron?"

She turned around, sighing, as she looked away.

"Listen here; if you're trying to hit on me, you should know I already have a boyfriend."

Shura, surprised, nearly rolled off his tree limb, a brow raising.

"Hittin' on you?" he echoed, stunned. Not even a second later, he groaned, rubbing his face with his calloused hand. "Geez, what's with it with you girls, always assuming every guy that talks to her is trying to crawl up her skirt? How much older am I to you? A few decades plus a half to grow on? What sort of twisted crud's going on in that head of yours?"

"Clearly nothing going on in your head." she shrugged, her frown dropping apathetically. "Hmm. Too bad. I guess we can't work together if we don't think alike. Sorry, maybe we can try again some other time." with that said, she walked away.

Shame on her, she would soon think; time after time, whether she knew him or not, she'd get so nervous talking to a boy should the conversation get too long, nervous enough to start to sound mean... Sometimes creepy even... Well. It was a thing of the past, she'd might as well put it behind her.