Origins: Nori
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The night sky is pitch black, but Nori doesn't mind- dark for dark business. He hops the chain link fence with a practiced ease and creeps across the finely manicured lawn, careful to avoid the motion sensors. Pausing at the side door, he takes a deep breath to steady himself. He's seventeen now. Old enough to be tried as an adult should he get caught. He can't get caught.
The lock-picks are a familiar weight in his hands and he slides the double-round into the deadbolt and feels his way until the tumbler clicks over. The sound is unusually loud in the stillness. Nori doesn't move, doesn't breath. He waits two whole minutes, counting them down silently in his head, then turns the door handle and slips inside.
Breaking and entering isn't Nori's normal gig. He prefers the subtle art of pickpocketing. It's easier. Safer. Grab a wallet or a watch, then disappear into the crowds before the target even knows their valuables are missing.
Nori is good at disappearing. He's good at pretending to listen to his older brother Dori's rants about respectability and college, then sneaking out a window to get drunk in some random basement with some less than honorable associates. It's not that he doesn't have more decent friends, he does, but his best friend has a twelve foot wingspan and Nori would rather remain inconspicuous. Plus, he'd rather not get anyone else in trouble with his thievery.
The house he's broken into is elegant and well-kept, the kind of house Dori probably dreams of having. Their own home is a single bedroom apartment in Ered Luin, with second-hand mattresses on the floor and ramen in the pantry. It's not much, but it's clean and safe and it's theirs. Dori's lost another job- he pretends he's not worried, but Nori knows better. The city isn't that big, it won't be long until word spreads that Dori has powers, and then there will be little chance for respectable work.
The house is silent, occupants fast asleep, but Nori moves slowly, silently, a heartbeat at a time. He's been watching this house for days, knows the layout, where the payload is. He can't get caught- it would break Dori's heart and he's got enough to worry about. Nori feels a tinge of shame for the life he's chosen, but beyond that is a rush of adrenalin. He likes the risk, the excitement. He's damn good at what he does.
Nori slips through the doorway into the kitchen and pauses, listening for any sound over the hum of the refrigerator. Hearing nothing he moves to the counter and the purse he knows will be left there. The wallet yields a small wad of bills, which he tucks into his jacket pocket. He leaves the credit cards behind, wanting nothing that could be traced.
Through the kitchen is the den, Nori's man objective. He moves as quickly as he can and still remain silent, filling his backpack with things he can easily fence. A laptop computer, a portable music player, a gold watch and wedding ring. On the desk is an intricately engraved pen, probably silver. Nori slips it into his inside jacket pocket, thinking it would make a nice surprise for his little brother, Ori.
With his backpack full, he creeps back out the way he came, locking the door after himself. The night sky is still pitch black, but Nori prefers it that way. The darkness will hide him as he moves through the city towards the back alley pawn shop that always welcomes his nighttime patronage. The owner offers him far less than his haul is worth, but Nori doesn't argue. In this business arguing can get you hurt, or worse.
The money may be ill-gotten, but it will be enough to cover their rent. Dori knows better than to ask where it comes from and Nori never volunteers that information. It's a painful arrangement and a harsh reminder that their lives will never be normal. But the rent is paid, and the ramen bought, and their lives go on with false cheer. It's an unspoken agreement, meant to keep little Ori unconcerned. And so they never talk about why Dori keeps changing jobs, nor what Nori does in the darkness.
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