As a 'Child of Shadows', the rules are simple: get in, get out, and don't get caught: these are the three simple rules I had lived by my entire life. For as long as I could remember, I had been skulking through the darkened streets of The City, worried if this would be the evening that I would have a dagger run across my throat in my sleep. Ever since I was an Urchin: no older than three, abandoned to rot in the filthy slums that not even the Beggars would tread, it was here I learned two things: trust no one, and everything had its price. It was also here that my tears dried, and I began watching: watching how the Beggars snuck about the shadows, stealing coin from Rich pockets to afford their next meal. Watching the loud, measured footsteps of The Watch: treading along their routes with their steel weapons and bright torches. Watching the Rats as they climbed the old stone walls, waking at night to scurry the rafters and ropes above, unseen and unheard.
As I watched, I remembered. As I remembered, I practiced: following the animals to clean water, eavesdropping on the Dockworkers as they went about their duties aboard the many ships that visited the harbor: learning to tie knots and swim, to hiding under the Merchants' carts in Stonemarket: learning which spices preserved food and which ones could be ground into a medicinal paste, and how to treat illnesses and wounds from the brooding Plague Doctors. By the time I was ten: I had learned to climb as skillfully as a Rat, sneak as silently as a Cat, and blend with the darkness like a Ghost. At times, I would play games with the Watchmen: testing my Pickpocketing and hiding skills by throwing bottles or one of my own 'Noisemakers': a simple, noisy invention of an old can and loose stones.
From these games I learned to steal, the value of what I stole, and who a prime Target would be in the future. Over the next few years I mastered Lockpicking, to the point where I could break into a shop: pick it clean, and get out without the owners ever knowing I was there. At my eighteenth year, I had begun teaching the rest of the Beggars and Urchins how to get their own food: how to weave Basket Traps out of old wire to catch Fish, and Snares out of thread for Rats and Birds. While not tasty, they were plentiful enough and were easy to cook: given the herbs and spices I smuggle to them by the sack full, among the several other things that find their way to them every now and then. If I were a gambling woman, I'd wager the Beggars were faring much better than the Rich these days: with the exception of Baron Northcrest, that selfish old man had never gone hungry a day in his life, I'd bet my life on it.
It was also during this time that I had had enough of living in the squalor of Eel's End in the underbelly of the Wayside Docks: opting instead to claim the abandoned Lighthouse on the border between Southport and Eastport: the aged stone and wooden structure appearing haunted and foreboding in its own right, and once set with lethal traps, made the perfect place to call 'Home'. It was shortly after my twenty-sixth year that I had decided to toss my threadbare rags and exchange them for something more…appropriate for my new way of life. It had taken months of careful planning, measuring, and sewing: costing me several late-night 'visits' to the Tailor's shop, and more than one pricked finger more often than not. However, once I had finished and donned my new garb for the first time: I could barely even recognize myself in my dusty mirror and couldn't be prouder of it.
My 5'3 well-toned frame was now cloaked in my personalized Thief's garb that consisted of a snug, long-sleeved, soft leather blouse that was as dark as a Raven's wing. From my shoulders to my belt was a black leather corset that hugged my slim, muscular stomach snugly: acting as armor and preventing my blouse from snagging on anything while climbing or sneaking. While I originally didn't intend this, the corset also accents my breasts in a comfortable, but non-distracting way: while they were easy to hide while I was younger, it became difficult and uncomfortable to breathe over time: something I couldn't afford in my line of work. Attached to the corset were several small Burlap pouches filled to the brim with recipes of my own design.
To prevent myself from getting confused, I had colored them with the same dye used in the Noblewomen's feathered hats: green for the Sleep Powder, grey for Smoke Bombs, blue for Itching Powder, and red for Pepper Bombs (nasty ones, those). Down my forearms were dark-brown half-fingered leather gloves, already laced tight and well-worn. On my left elbow and right upper arm, were thick leather pads that were especially useful in keeping myself quiet while pressing against a wall or hiding under a cart. The leather pauldron on my right shoulder had a similar purpose, only it was used to prevent me from hurting myself if I had to take the full weight of something as I moved passed it: which is something I often dread in this crumbling City.
Around my waist was a leather belt that held my soft leather leggings in place, and also held one of my most trusted tools close by: a long, and well-woven leather whip, the likes of which is seen in every Urchin's worst nightmares, and it has saved my hide more times than I care to mention. Aside from my black leggings, I also carried a grappling hook in a holster on my right thigh: the teeth of which have bitten into more wood and stone than the Baron has Guards, and it will continue to do so for many more years to come, I'm sure. Covering my feet were a pair of knee-high boots that were the same color as my gloves and each held a pair of hidden knives: weapons I don't like using for killing, but were in reach if I didn't have any other choice.
My fiery-red curls were hidden beneath a leather hood that had a black cloth cape attached to it that reached to the backs of my knees, and greatly helped my slim frame blend in with the shadows and keep me out of sight of the Hawk-eyed Watchmen. The last and most important part of my garb, was the black scarf that rested around my neck and would become a mask that hid all but my emerald eyes from view: the charcoal surrounding them helped in keeping my identity secret and out of Public Knowledge. At first, I was just like any other Thief: steal from the Nobles, trade in the items, get paid…until I began attracting attention for my stealth and efficiency: 'The Nightingale', they called me: a beautiful Bird that rose with the setting sun and was well-known for its deception and love for collecting shiny things. With that title, came the rumors: tales of a Shade that slips through the shadows with no warning and would rob the trousers off any man who was unfortunate enough to wander in its path.
When I first heard that, it took everything in me not to laugh as I hid from a pair of drunken Watchmen as they stood guard outside a Nobleman's home. Now, I'd often wondered if I could actually get away with doing such a thing, but wasn't willing to bet my life on giving it a try: regardless of how funny it would be. It was shortly after the rumors started, that a black and white Magpie had visited my home with a tinderbox in its beak: how it knew where I lived, I didn't know: and tripled the traps within and around my abode in my paranoia of its mysterious Master. I had come to learn, that this Magpie would lead me to my future Fence and the closest thing a Thief had to a friend in this sorry excuse for a world. Against my instincts and better judgement, I followed the directions on the tinderbox's message and came upon 'The Crippled Burrick': a shady little tavern in the heart of Stonemarket.
It was in the basement of this rowdy, smokey tavern, that I'd met Basso: a short, portly man that had always worn a stained, drab suit and worn top hat that had hidden his greasy black hair from view: but had always had a mischievous glint in his brown eyes and an easygoing personality to match. It was through Basso that I had gotten actual Jobs: contracts that had actually paid and paid well for the items I stole or smuggled throughout The City. It was also through him that had given me the idea of training my own Messenger Bird: opting to use a gorgeous, black Nightingale that was on her way to becoming a Noblewoman's pet, but was easily swapped for a raven before the woman came to pick her up in her golden cage.
A bird with her nobility earned her the name 'Lucille', a name Basso nagged me for days on end to give her, 'She's more dignified than my Jenivere! Gal like that deserves nothing less!' he'd yap: giving me the most obnoxious, shit-eating grin when I finally agreed, like he'd won the damned Lottery. It was also through him, that I'd met other Thieves: most were pleasant enough, but there were others that made me want to jump off The Clock Tower, main one being Erin: a younger Thief with an arrogance and superiority complex that will without a doubt get the girl killed, and any who had the unfortunate luck of working with her. It was obvious from the day we met that we would not like each other, she had always boasted about being better than anyone she worked with, treating Jobs like a game and always made unnecessary noise that made sneaking past Guards damn-near impossible.
But it was the fact that she preferred killing to knocking Guards out cold was what had caught my attention the most: girl had a thirst for blood, and didn't care who's it was: I've seen her leave The Burrick with a partner, and return alone on more than one occasion. An Assassin in the making, one who's impatience and arrogance was a dangerous combination: and I felt the utmost remorse for whoever trained her. Which brings me to my current situation: in the Bedchamber of a lesser Nobleman, who had several empty bottles of wine surrounding his large and doubtless-comfortable bed. Judging by the snoring, he wouldn't be waking up for a long while, giving me free reign to all of his valuables: nothing too extravagant or noteworthy, but worth coin all the same.
With the grace of a Fox, I crept across the floor and over to a painting of an Eagle in a dead tree: running the tips of my fingers along the golden frame, pulling the two hidden switches and exposed the promising-looking safe hidden beneath. Glancing back at the sleeping drunk, I reached for the handwritten note I had pulled from his journal and read the combination he'd foolishly written down. At the three, satisfying 'clicks', I popped open the safe and exposed the documents contained within. Glancing them over, I decided they had little value and left them where they lay, reaching instead for a large golden necklace with several small diamonds encasing a very large emerald rested: and judging by its weight and the way the stones reflected in the candlelight, everything was very real and VERY valuable.
'There you are.' I thought, feeling a pleased smirk stretch across my face as I pocketed 'The Eye of The Eagle' safely in my Satchel before quietly replacing everything exactly the way it was prior to my visit. Before my departure from the home, I calmly rested a shiny black feather on the man's windowsill: the feather of a Nightingale. Come morning, the streets will be filled with the gossip of The Nightingale's latest victim, which made me wonder just how high The Watch would raise my Bounty, before quickly deciding I didn't care: unlike Erin, I actually had the skills to back up my words without ever drawing attention to them. I never cared for boasting: I let my actions speak for me, and these 'Feathers of Mark' tells of yet another successful Job, whether the public knew who was behind the robberies or not.
Job done, I quickly and quietly made my way across 'The Thieves' Highway' from the Manor in Hightown, back south and in the direction of Stonemarket: trying very hard not to gag at the rancid smell of the river as I passed it by. 'Makes me real glad I live nowhere near it.' I thought in disgust as I grabbed my whip and latched onto an overhanging rafter before using my momentum to swing to the building across the street: smirking at the sound of a startled Watchman that had caught the barest of glimpses of me in the receding torchlight. Sliding down the roof, I landed silently behind a pair of crates that had been left behind by the Merchants of Stonemarket: waiting patiently for the pair of Watchmen to 'kindly' turn away long enough for me to slip by them: they opted for a conversation instead, to my utter annoyance.
"Hey, you don't suppose the men down at The Foundry find, umm…you know, cock-rings and stuff on the bodies, do you?" the one to my left questioned awkwardly, making my eyebrows jump to my hairline at the question. 'What the fuck?' I thought, feeling my eyes light up in amusement at the surprised grunt the other gave: he was just as shocked as I was. "Why the fuck would you ask me that?!" the other snapped, affronted that he was being asked such a thing, in public, no less: couldn't say I blamed him. "My brother, Daniel, knew a Blossom. She said if you were in a pinch, you could use pig-gut, tied in a knot." the first replied, seemingly unconcerned with how uncomfortable he was making his friend. 'That's…one way to do it, I guess.' I thought as I clamped my jaws to keep myself from laughing.
"I'm here keeping watch for anyone breaking Curfew, and you're telling me about your brother tying his dong in a knot?" the second questioned, making a short snicker escape my throat at the deadpanned tone his voice took: which apparently, wasn't quiet enough. "Did you hear that?" the second questioned, both quickly forgetting the conversation and readied their weapons: the sound of singing steel loud and clear in the courtyard. 'Shit.' I thought, angry that I'd let my childish mind compromise my escape. "Come out! We know you're there!" the first shouted, making me quickly reach for my corset and pulled free one of my Noisemakers before carefully peeking around the corner of the crate: both Watchmen had their swords drawn and were angrily pacing about the well-lit space: the bonfire at their feet will no doubt cause problems for me if I couldn't reach the Merchant's cart across the street from me without being seen.
Holding my breath as they came to a stop directly next to my crate, I pulled my arm back and tossed the can far off to my right and into a shadowed corner of the courtyard: the tin on the cobblestone and the stones within created an awful racket and sent the Guards scrambling after it with haste: leaving me with just enough time to slip passed them and into the safety of the shadows unseen. With a sigh of relief, I quietly climbed the wall and back onto the neighboring roof: leaving the rest of the way to The Burrick clear of any further 'annoyances', just the way I liked it. Glancing around for any more unwanted 'surprises', I nodded to myself in satisfaction before jumping down from the roof and slipped inside The Burrick: finding the rowdy patrons and scent of flowing alcohol familiar and welcome: regardless if the liquor was…about as good tasting as the river smelled: and The City's supply of shit quite-literally flowed in it.
"Ah, Nightingale! 'The Usual', I presume?" the Barkeep, 'Samuel' shouted, calming down the rancorous Patrons almost immediately: they all knew the name, and were quick to stay out of business that wasn't theirs. "No thanks, Samuel, got a Job going." I replied, causing the tall, balding man to adopt a look of understanding as he reached to the counter and began cleaning mugs and spilled Whiskey. "Ah, well go on, then: Basso's waitin' on ya." he said, nodding in the direction of the basement, and Basso's 'Office'. 'Of course, he is.' I thought with a good-natured roll of my eyes as I tossed the man a light wave in passing, paying no mind to the Drunkards who had returned to their yelling with vigor as soon as I descended the steps, before quickly changing my mind and backed away from the door: opting instead to sneak in through the small window in the wine cellar.
Sneaking along the shadowed wall, I couldn't help the wide smirk that stretched slowly across my face as I watched my Fence pace about the dusty room while mumbling to himself: paying Jenivere no mind as she cooed at me before going back to preening her feathers. "She's late, what's keeping her?" I heard him grumble as he paced near his desk: completely unaware of my presence just out of his sight. "He'll be here any minute, where the hell is that gal?!" he growled, drawing a sudden curiosity from me: one that outweighed my urge to scare the man out of his skin. "Who?" I questioned, feeling a special satisfaction as Basso whirled around at an impressive speed and made to throw something at me: which in his case was nothing more than a silver ink bottle.
"Gods to Graveholes, Rayne!" he seethed, holding his chest like his heart was about to burst: making me feel as if I should be concerned by the fact that he'd use my actual name instead of my given title: but opted for laughing at his panic-stricken face, instead. "An ink bottle? Really? I'm offended, Basso." I pouted, staring at the puddle of dark liquid that splashed across the smooth, stone floor as he regained his breath and glared at me in annoyance. "Why you-you could have just used the damned door!" he snapped, storming passed me and began cleaning up his mess with more force than was probably necessary. "Where's the fun in that?" I asked, snickering at his mumbled cursing as I strode to the side of the room and climbed onto a stack of crates that no doubt held some of Samuel's better stock. "Did you get the Gig done, at least?" he asked as he stood up, tossing the stained rag in a corner before leaning over his desk, staring at his ledgers.
"You really doubt me?" I questioned, raising an eyebrow at him before tossing my prize at his desk with a good-natured scoff before my attention was drawn to the small window above his head. What had once been an empty space was now occupied by a large, dark silhouette: one that was sure and confident in its footing and carried a familiar form to the way they moved: a fellow Thief then, one I didn't recognize. I felt eyes on me almost immediately, and though I couldn't see them: their gaze left a burning feeling in my skin, as if I had Sand Fleas crawling on me and immediately knew that this was no ordinary Thief. Covering up the fact that whoever this was was making me uncomfortable by fiddling with my gloves, I watched Basso write down the information and confirm the Job was done in his ledgers as the stranger above silently crept through the window the same way I had: making me realize Basso was about to get scared again, making me think it was something all of his Thieves enjoyed doing.
'Wonder if he'll be pushed to drink tonight at this rate.' I mused, glad my scarf-like mask was covering the lower half of my face as a devious smirk stretched across it as the strange Thief slid through the shadows like a Ghost, making me quickly realize that this particular Thief was a 'he': and while seemed to sneak around well enough, the way his boots scraped across the stone with each measured step, I was still able to hear him coming. Watching him out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of pale skin, dark eyebrows and hazel eyes in the flickering candlelight as he watched me: no doubt waiting to see if I would announce his presence to Basso. Sending the stranger a subtle wink, I didn't even bother keeping the grin off my hidden face as he crept right up to my Fence: who still hadn't a clue that he was there.
"And, done. I'll be sure to get this to the Client, luckily for you: he paid in advance." Basso said, tossing me a rather-heavy coin purse that made a satisfying 'clinking' noise as I caught it. I had learned early on not to question Basso when it came to payment: the man always stuck to his word like flies on shit and knew the agreed amount of gold coins lay in the pouch without even having to check. "Thank you, kindly. Now, you said someone was coming to see us? You know I don't like meeting with the Clients, Basso." I said, knowing full-well a Client wasn't the one who was visiting, but decided to let my curiosity play the part as he looked up: a knowing smile stretching across his stubbled face before reaching over to give Jenivere a treat. "I did. Which is why you don't even need to worry about that, the guy's a fellow 'Entrepreneur', like you and me. The best The City has to offer, no offense to you: he'll be here any minute." he replied, completely oblivious to the fact that the strange Thief rose to his full height of 5'5 and leaned casually against the wall directly behind him: making me wonder how the hell Basso doesn't sense him standing there.
'One of these days, he'll really die of a heart attack.' I mused as Basso lifted the heavy, jeweled necklace to the candlelight: laughing as Jenivere tried to peck at the shiny gemstones. "Nice find." the stranger said, causing Basso to whirl around on his heels faster than a Noblewoman caught doing something nefarious. "Garrett, you taffer! How many times do I have to tell you to use the damned door?! I already got that treatment from this little shit, now you? I won't live long enough to see this year's Summersday Festival at this rate." the Boxman griped, glaring at the smug Thief as he looked over the prize in Basso's hands before the Fence whirled around on me: no doubt knowing about my shit-eating grin by now. "And don't you think you're off the hook for that, either! Why the hell didn't you tell me he was there? I know you saw him come in." he continued, glaring at me for a second before pocketing the necklace into a cloth bag and stored it away in the Safe for safekeeping until the Client came to get it.
"Hmm?" I hummed, sending him a well-practiced look of innocence through my mask that pulled a sigh of exasperation from Basso, and a smirk from our visitor. Like me, 'Garrett' was an obviously well-trained Thief and had earned his place in The City: judging by the dullness and well-worn appearance of his cloth and leather garb, he'd probably been doing Jobs long before I had. Taking notice of said attire, I couldn't help but scowl at the fact that his garb was nearly identical to mine: and briefly wondered if this fact was a coincidence or we had similar taste in Gear that was both functional and purposeful. While shorter than most men, it provided him a natural advantage in our line of work: standing at 5'5 at full height, it didn't take a genius to realize he was able to move much faster and get into places a larger man would find impossible.
Like me, he was dressed head to toe in cloth and black leather, and I knew immediately that each piece wasn't only handmade, but each stitch also served a purpose: just as mine did. In addition to matching, snug, black leather tunic and trousers, he wore a dark-brown leather harness over his tunic and had more belts then I carried Powder Pouches: though I didn't know if he'd use his for the same purpose, as I didn't see any attached to him. On his forearms and right shoulder were dark-brown leather pads that seemed to serve as armor and elbow-length fingerless gloves of the same color laced up tight: showing me his deceptively-strong form. His head was also covered by a black leather hood, though his face was covered with a piece of black fabric that held a faded pinstripe pattern instead of a scarf.
Across his shoulders and down his back was a tattered black cape that came to a stop at his calves, a few inches longer than my own and made of a thicker material. On his right thigh he also carried a grappling hook with a good bit of rope attached to it in a light-brown leather holster, and some sort of small club on his left. Down his legs were a pair of knee-high boots that had an additional layer of leather down his shins: also serving as armor. But the thing that really set him apart from me, was the mechanical metal bow and quiver of arrows on his back: this Thief was bold to use such a weapon, and in this City: bold wasn't always a good thing, and judging by the hardened look in his intense, charcoal-covered, hazel eyes: he had earned the right to use it, and use it well.
Taking in his scrutinizing glare, I knew I was being studied just as carefully as I studied him: neither of us paying Basso any mind as we sized each other up, each refusing to be intimidated by the other. 'Regardless of his size, he knows how to be intimidating with his mask on.' I noted, sending him a matching glare and broadened my shoulders: letting him know that I knew his game, and was NOT impressed by his posturing. "Nice to see a fellow Thief with a good eye." I said drily, reluctantly accepting his compliment on my prize as Basso turned to us with a broadened grin. "Nice to see you two getting along, I was beginning to worry that you would've torn each other to pieces on sight, knowing how you both are. Now, for introductions: Rayne, this is Garrett: The Master Thief. Garrett, this is Rayne: The Nightingale." Basso explained, causing Garrett to narrow his eyes in contempt: while I turned my deadpanned gaze to my Fence, who had the nerve to look confused.
"You waited until now to introduce me to 'The Legend in Leather'? That's not polite, Basso: and here I thought you were introducing me to more Noose-Bait." I griped, not at all bothered by this fact: however, my sarcastic sense of humor and pride demanded I retaliate with something: especially if I wasn't 'worthy' of said Thief's notice. "Hrmph. What sort of Thief leaves evidence at the Scene of a Crime?" Garrett grunted, seemingly unimpressed with knowing who I was, as if I was little more than a petty Street Thug trying to be a Thief and not worth his time. "The kind that knows she's not going to get caught." I growled back, feeling the bite of Pride as he so carelessly judged me: basing my skills on something as trivial as a Bird feather without even seeing me in action.
'The nerve! I may not be a 'Master Thief', but that does NOT mean you get to snub my skills like you know me!' I mentally snarled, baring my hidden teeth as Basso reluctantly stepped between us with his bandaged hands raised: no doubt sensing the rising tension that would've quickly led to a fight if left to boil. "Alright alright, knock it off. Rayne, you need to cool it before you do something you'll regret: Garrett is not one to trifle with, especially not in my Office. And Garrett, you may not approve of Rayne's…unorthodox methods, but the gal's a spitfire and is as smart as a whip: if you need anything smuggled in or out of The City, she's your gal. When it comes to Smarts, trust me: she puts her money where her mouth is." Basso scolded, speaking to us as if we were mere disobedient Urchins: however, taking a closer look at Garrett, and how Basso was giving me the 'please don't do anything stupid' face, I swallowed my pride and nodded curtly, agreeing to his request.
"I'll believe that when I see it, because from what I see: I'm not impressed." Garrett scoffed, crossing his arms over his muscular chest in hopes of intimidating me into backing down from his unspoken challenge. 'Oh, I can't wait to see you eat those words.' I thought, narrowing my eyes at the challenge as a sinister smirk began to crawl across my face as Basso glanced upwards toward the ceiling, as if he we're regretting the very idea of introducing us. "If it's a Game you wish to play, 'Master Thief': you should know I don't play fair. And if that'll be all, Basso: I'll take my leave: The Watch patrols may be as 'Dumb as a Box of Rocks', but I'd rather not cross them at sun-up." I stated, jumping down from my crate with the grace of a Cat and made my way back out the window without so much as a sound: making sure to send a polite nod of farewell to my Fence, and a heated glare towards Garrett: who hardened his own stare right back and I had to admit: it was refreshing to meet a fellow Thief with an attitude as sharp as his wit.
'Would be a real shame to see this one hang, been a long time since someone actually gave as good as they got.' I mused as I waved goodbye to Samuel as I made my way out of The Burrick and quickly took to the rooftops: heading east and across the bridge leading to the border between Auldale and North Dayport: taking full advantage of The City's layout as I ran, jumped, climbed and swung from one building to the next: ducking and swooping around multiple pairs of Watchmen as they patrolled their given areas until it was time for a Shift Change. Crossing south into Eastport, I relished in the faint, salty air of the sea as it chased away the horrid stench of the river that was beginning to make me feel lightheaded and sick to my stomach.
Dashing across a street as soon as a pair of crossbow-wielding Watchmen turned away, I stretched my hand out and swiped a fresh apple off an unguarded Merchant's cart: feeling my mouth water at the thought of enjoying such a sweet, juicy breakfast as I tucked it safely away in my satchel just before I climbed back up a neighboring building and continued along The Thieves' Highway, picking up the pace as soon as I spotted the faint outline of The Lighthouse on the horizon. Sliding down a slanted roof as I began running out of breath after running for several more streets, I reached to my belt and gripped my whip tightly on my right hand and pulled it free: latching onto an overhanging rafter with a snap of my wrist, using the momentum of my slide to swing across the street and into one of the open windows halfway up the side of The Lighthouse: the stone crumbling beneath my sudden weight, but never actually coming loose.
Tugging my whip loose, I rewound it back into its coil and placed it back at my belt as I climbed through the dusty window and landed softly on the old stone staircase: pulling my mask down and munched happily on my breakfast, hopping over the steps that I knew would crumble down to the pitch-dark bottom with the slightest touch and weaving effortlessly through and over my many other traps leading to the top. By the time I made it to the top, it was nearly sunrise as I had finished my apple and tossed the core down to the bottom for the Rats: which will no doubt be gone in minutes. As I closed the trapdoor leading to the Whale-Oil light and my home, I couldn't help but admire my personal collection of treasures and trinkets I had kept for myself over the years: scowling to myself as I suddenly thought of Garrett and his blatant disregard of my very being.
His very personality reminded me too much of Erin, regardless of how subtle it was: and while I was nowhere near as reckless or as arrogant as her: my confidence in my skills was well-earned, something I thought would at least be acknowledged, even by someone like him: and it stung something awful when it wasn't. 'Hrmph. I'll show that bastard right.' I mentally growled, shoving his entire existence out of my mind as I approached my Workbench: where Lucille's cage sat as she happily sang her beautiful song in the breaking dawn streaking in through the dusty window. "And good morning to you too, my Lovely." I cooed, passing her some seeds I had stored away in a burlap sack under the bench and away from the damp, salty air of the sea as it made its way in through the open window.
As she dug into her meal, I smiled softly as the morning light lit up her ebony-black feathers in a beautiful display of blues, purples, greens and reds: showing off the colors the darkness hid away from the rest of the world. 'Just like the rest of this wretched City: beauty is hard to find, but always worth keeping.' I thought as I wandered over to my bed and pulled off my boots and crashed into the lumpy, semi-comfortable mass in an ungraceful heap: the dark oblivion of sleep taking me in seconds, leaving me to inevitably rise with the night and continue my existence once again: and couldn't help but wonder if this would be all there was to my life as a Thief, and knew deep-down that there would be only one way to find out.