[AN: Again, another slow introductory chapter to lead to the inevitable actual stuff happening. Apologies if it's boring. Stuff'll happen soon, promise.]
Sometimes, all it takes is a charming smile and a light hand.
"Good morning, my lady. I dare say the day is almost as fine as you," he purrs lightly with a friendly smile, watching carefully as she giggles and blushes. Perfect. She's taken the bait. "Such a shame to see your neck barren of an amulet of Mara… Alas, maybe one day I'll have my chance, for I see no ring…?" The bold statement is all he needs to perfectly distract the young brunette imperial, as his hand takes a careful dip into the satchel at her side. His own blue eyes keep her browns under their gaze, the girl blinking and jittering under the sudden attention. As always, he's precise and fast, fingers skimming over goods and taking only what he can get away with. She says something flirtatiously back, and Fai only pays minimal attention, instead shoots her a coy wink to match his impish smile, before he withdraws his hand.
"I bid you good day, my lady. Until we meet again," he sweeps with a bow, grinning as he walks easily away in the opposite direction. Child's play. Fai dangles the gold necklace from his finger, and inspects the pretty garnet in his palm that glints in the sunlight. She'd had a fairly plump coin purse in the bag, but she surely would've noticed the weight missing had he tried to take it. That's what the pickpocket was about – calculation and cunning, being smart about loot and never overestimating one's own ability. That's what made Fai such a spectacular pickpocket, too. Then again, he'd learned from the best.
Pocketing his catch, along with the other trinkets and gems from that morning's session, he found himself in a very good mood. The small square was fairly busy, the usual varied matter of people walking through, getting on with their own lives in this way or that. He could hear friendly chatter of the townspeople, the luring calls of stall-owners over the crowd, advertising their goods, and not far behind him the rhythmic clanking of metal against metal at the blacksmith's forge. It had been a successful morning, the sun drawing people out, specifically the richer ones. It was easy to tell the richer apart: their dresses were fuller, had less stitches on them, less stains. Their leathers shone brighter, the furs were less matted. They wore rings and necklaces with jewels encrusted, practically flaunting their wealth and making them unaware, glimmering targets for the keen-eyed pickpockets of Skyrim. The best part was that a good proportion of the richer ones seemed to lack a wariness about themselves, took a compliment far too easy, let their own swelling ego cloud their judgement and make it all too easy to take from them. Those were the ones that didn't earn their keep, the ones that stumbled upon wealth by simply living, usually the younger ones. The ones to be careful of were the elders, who were smart about the prizes they'd worked so hard to get. He walked on with a spring in his step through the little town of Whiterun, up the steps and into the plaza – in the very centre a large, dead tree stood, sprawling its branches above. There had been rumours the tree once bloomed beautifully and brought Whiterun great pride, but Fai had never recalled seeing the thing alive. The flash of a face that was posted at the trunk of the tree caught the young blonde man's attention – clad in worn silver armour and mail. Oh, dear. That was the guard that had almost caught his sly hand taking a wander into a pocket once before– he recognised the bearded, rough face. Spinning in the opposite direction on the ball of his heel, he continued his walk back the way he came, away from the bearded guard, back down the steps and through the cobblestone-path with little thatched houses at either side of him. Time to call it a morning, he supposed, pushing through the great, wooden doors that led into and out of Whiterun – a couple of guards giving him a nod as he passed.
The open air greeted him like an old friend, smell of grass and fresh sky a familiar and pleasing one. Ignoring the watchful eyes of the guards, he jumped over the high wall and fell down, landing lightly onto the roof of the watch tower below with practised skill. The soft soles of his boots padded and muffled the impact – bent knees absorbing the shock and making for a fluid, quiet landing. From up here, he could see the spread of land that sweeped over endless distance. It never failed to knock his mind, just how free one person could truly be, living like this. Should the fancy take him, he could walk right over to those farms. He could ride a horse right to the far edges, clamber up towering mountains, just to see what lay over them. Anything felt possible when he saw the never-ending stretch of sky and earth. He could explore the whole of Skyrim, one day he could even leave Skyrim and travel the full of Tamriel. With a laugh, he swung himself down from the roof and into the watch tower, much to the female guard there's surprise. He gave her a firm, slightly mocking nod, running down the ramp and vaulting over it when the height was safe enough, back onto low-ground again.
It wasn't long then before he reached the Khajiit camp, tents and supplies parked just outside of Whiterun's gates, looking for the occasional customer. Ra'jiir was the first to see him, waving a paw in greeting.
"Ah, the crafty fox returns. I assume you went for some pickings, hm?" he chuckled knowingly, that voice still the same as the day he'd first heard it, when the Khajiit had lifted him from the side of the road. This man was like a father to him, the closest thing he could think of. He'd taught him everything Fai knew, and kept the blonde like his very own son, feeding and sheltering him, even when it was hard enough for him to do so for himself alone. Fai owed him everything.
"Who, me? Well, I don't know what you're talking about," Fai batted back falsely innocently, slipping a handful of gems and chains subtly on top of a wooden crate. "I did happen to stumble across these, though, if that's what you mean?" Ra'jiir just chuckled roughly again, shaking his head and going back to cleaning the old tankard in his hands. Zaynabi, Ra'jiir's wife, approached Fai with a sweet smile on her cat-lips, taking a slip of paper from the pocket of her worn and threadbare dress.
"The courier delivered this, is for you from Riften," she said, her own foreign accent the same heavy vowels and lingering tongue as the other Khajiit's, only her voice was softer and less murky. Immediately the adolescent blonde recognised the emblem on the front. The Thieves Guild. Sure enough, the summons was from Vex herself, snarky tone evident even in the way she wrote.
"I have a message to run, I'll be back in a few days, maybe," Fai announced, grabbing his long cloak from the tent and shoving a few spare potions in his satchel. The Khajiit couple were used to this, since the boy had turned a teen he'd become a totally free spirit, often visiting other cities and towns as he pleased. "May you walk on warm sands, little fox," Ra'jiir said, nodding in farewell to his pseudo-son. Literally two minutes down the pathway was the Whiterun stables, and it didn't take much time to wait for the stable-man to get distracted by something and take his eyes off the horses long enough for Fai to take a swinging leap up and steal the saddled, chestnut horse. An angry yell could be heard behind him, under the sound of heavy hooves beating against the path. Fai just laughed, loose and loud, wind sifting through his blonde hair and billowing out his black cloak as he rode off in the direction of Riften.
[AN: Kurogane's next.]