Completed While the cat's away...

[Miles]

61st of Winter, 512 AV.

Plague.

Sickness whipped up the weak minded in a panic- people scurried from their homes to their jobs, most beyond paranoid of strangers and of their neighbors alike. On top of disease, Zeltiva hung on the edge of disarray because of a public murder. A Waveguard had been killed murdered in cold blood- patrols were heavy, and people were extra cautious.

All of that focus remained in the city- on East street, in the fish markets, on the docks. Miles sat and contemplated all morning what the best course of action would be when it hit him just as the sun began to beam its first few rays of heat upon the frozen soil. The roads. Maria had said it herself: the woman had practically doomed any travelers that sought refuge in other places, or simply in turning their back to a dangerous city. The road would be crawling with scared travelers- people who would "leave" as she had stated- people with no real connection to Zeltiva, thus no real reason to stay through the hardships, or return when they were over.

They were the perfect marks.

He had avoided the initial rush, those too afraid to pack up their own things, running with the shirts on their back and panic in their eyes.. no no- this was the second wave of travelers, those who hoarded their possessions, those who had a placed picked out and plans turning over and over in their minds. Fear of infection was there, but poverty on the streets of a new city was just as bad- so these travelers had enough wits about them to get their affairs in order before fleeing.

By the time the sun had reached it height, Miles was among the travelers, making rounds every few groups. He would saunter into the small, huddling groups from the edge of the road and begin the act. Stumbling a bit too close here, a quick purse lighting and then a loud and wet cough to drive the scared would be plague-carrier to put as much distance between he and the disease as he could.

Most of the time Miles didn't need to actually travel with the group- unless he saw the Waveguard patrols approaching, he was in and out. People were too busy with their own fears to remember what they had seen after his actions suggested he was ill. Miles never actually stole a whole purse- never so obvious.. a few coins here and there made for unaware marks, and for safer exits.

After about an hour of this, he decided not to press his luck further. He slowed his steps and began to stumble to the side of the road, retching and coughing- forcing those around him to speed past him with a few mumbled curses. Once he was clear of them, he stood straight, turned around, and made his way back to Zeltiva. With any luck, he'd be a rumor in another city before anyone realized what he'd done.

As the sun set, he found himself back before his home, unconsciously touching the fat coin purse at his waist. Today had been a good day. The windows were dark and his cottage was secure, or so it seemed. Miles went to unlock the front door to note the door was open- just slightly.

Panic.

Had someone found him out? Had he made enemies? Was he being robbed? He edged the door open just enough to slip through, praying the hinges didn't groan in protest. Noise erupted from his bedroom, the sound of his things being thrown around- bed being overturned, furniture hitting the ground- someone was tossing his home.

The thought had occurred to him as a means of petty thievery- many homes were abandoned in the exodus, and Miles planned on visiting some during the evening hours. A pang of jealousy found its way through the fear and anger that gripped him: whoever this was, had gotten the drop on him. He hoped it was just by happenstance they chose his residence.

He eased his boots off, and began treading the living room floor, careful to avoid squeaky boards and concentrating on the rumblings coming from his own room. Hiding in a shadow next to the doorway, Miles took a minute to activate his Djed, using it to focus his mind enough to detach left his elbow and hand, extending them to the ground slowly but surely. He knew he didn't have much time, his bedroom (while holding the majority of his things, and most of what was once Abrahams) wasn't terribly large. Miles concentrated on shaping his projection to hold between the edges of the doorway about knee height. Once he was satisfied and sweat began to bead on his brow, he took his free hand and threw his boot at the cracked door, slamming it shut. "Who's there!" He yelled.

The yelp he heard filled him with pride. A second later, bolting from his bedroom, heading for the door was a small figure clad in black cloak fluttering in haste, eyes wide and afraid. The figure hit Miles' trap and flew forward with a strangled cry, landing awkwardly on the ground in front of the closed door. Guiding his joint safely to his body, Miles fell upon the would be robber, experienced hands sliding to the waist and boot to disarm.

"Get your hands off me!" A female voice yelled at him as the curvy body under him began to squirm.

Female?

[Miles]

A second of hesitation is all she needed. An elbow hit his midsection hard enough to make him exhale in surprise. He pressed the blade to the back of her neck enough to stop her from squirming. Her body was rigid, but she was completely still. Miles took a deep breath before speaking, forcing his voice to be level even though adrenaline pumped through him. He held her body down with his weight, keeping his weakened arm free as not to be injured.

"You understand you're dead. Right? I've caught you and you've lost. Relax. Tell me who you are, who sent you, and perhaps we can discuss you keeping your life." A pause. The woman didn't speak. Miles took another breath, keeping his voice light: "nice dagger, by the way. The one in your boot was too much of a hassle with you squirming like that."

The woman's voice was low and full of disgust. Miles supposed she was mad at herself as well as infuriated with him. She spat each word. "If you are going to take me, be quick about it and kill me." There was no fear in her voice whatsoever.

Miles was glad she couldn't see him blush. Take her? His only play was the angry play. "WHO SENT YOU!" He pushed the dagger into the back of her neck a little more, to the point of pain. She did not wince.

"I. work. alone." Her determination was admirable, considering she was in a rather dangerous position. "You know what I'm doing here. What are you doing here? The man who lived here is dead."

Miles was taken aback. HIs voice was not as strong as it had been. He sounded like he was trying to convince himself when he spoke: "I live here." Memories of Abraham distracted him, and the dagger quivered on her neck.

One second of distraction was all she needed. In an instant she turned and thrust her elbow toward Miles' chin, catching him off guard, sending him stumbling backward. She rolled toward the door and stood in one fluid motion, reaching for the dagger in her boot.

Miles knew what was coming. Move the knife Miles. It was flying at him in the blink of an eye- and he knew once she threw it where it was headed. He had no time for delicacy: activating his Djed he ripped his arm from its rightful place to deflect the blade before it split his skull. The result was a scar that glanced along the side of his skull- a long scratch that faded along his hairline. The howl of pain however, was much worse than that. He felt as though his arm no longer belonged to him- it was a burning ball of searing pain, lifeless as if it were disconnected, burning as if it were on fire.

The woman stepped back. "You.. knew Abraham. He taught you that." She stood, relaxed now- and Miles looked at her full on for the first time. The moon had finally rose and the pale light illuminated her face perfectly. She was dignified, though a bit out of breath, and she looked every inch of her the daughter of the Old man who took him in. "He left you this house?"

Miles' answer was a wordless howl as he writhed. The pain was near unbearable. He tried to concentrate, to somehow repair what he'd done. It was impossible to focus with his arm on fire. He had done too much. Overgave, if he remembered the term. He hadn't ever thought it would be this bad.

Concern flickered across the eyes of the woman. "My father should have taught you better before he died. Stop whining and lie down. The pain won't last forever unless you've severed yourself completely. He did it a million times. Just calm down."

Miles choked a bit trying to cut off his yelling. His legs wobbled and he sat down, hard. "Who are you? He never talked about.." He could feel himself losing consciousness, slipping into a warm, safe place.

"I'm not surprised. I am Adela. And you, are going to pass out. Sweet dreams." She laughed- a musical thing. It was the last thing he heard.

[Miles]

62nd of Winter, 512 AV

Miles awoke in his bed, in his room, that wasn't trashed. His left arm felt about twenty pounds heavier than it should have, but at least it felt like something. He sat up and instantly felt dizzy.

"You'll need food. Rest and food." Adela. That was her name, right? She stood in the doorway, shaking her head at him. "I would tell you that I'm sorry I tried to kill you, but I'm not. How did you meet my Father?"

Miles shook his head lightly, unable to help the grin that spread across his face. Once the linen blankets fell from him, he noticed his arm was wrapped tightly against his chest, and that his chest was naked. It would have been embarrassing if he wasn't so dizzy. "The truth? I robbed him. I saved him from another thief while I did it. He wanted to pay me back. So, he offered to let me stay with him. We became friends."

Adela sighed. "I suppose he wanted to make an honest man of you- right? Go to school and all?" As Miles' head began to clear he started to notice her features. She stood five foot five inches tall, her brown hair caught the sun and bits of gold wove itself through, giving it a glow that he'd never really seen before. Her eyes were patches of clear sky, and her frame was slender but sturdy. She no longer wore the cloak- she had a white shirt and snug pants. Once he was fully conscious, he was terribly aware of his body and its lack of clothing. "He tried to sell that to everybody- even me." She walked out of the room a moment and returned with a steaming bowl. "Soup. I decided to take some coin I would have stolen from you and buy you food- you were down to bare rations." She did not hand him the bowl, instead she walked a two steps too close to him and took a spoonful, holding it to his lips. "Blow". The whole thing had a motherly feel to it.

It was Miles' turn to sigh. He huffed indignantly, reaching to take the bowl from her. "Why didn't you go to his funeral?" When she didn't object, he held it in one hand, grimacing at his burning fingertips. Looking around, he realized there was no other way, and handed it back to her. She smiled triumphantly.

"Black sheep" She said casually. "Honestly, did you see any of his family there? You didn't even know he had a family. I didn't know he died until I arrived back in town. Haven't been here in years. Now, blow."

Miles followed instructions, the grimace never quite leaving his face. He took a mouthful of the hot soup, appreciating the blend of spices and herbs. It was rather tasty. He looked back toward Adela and asked: "what are you doing here now? You know he's not here.. so.." it was rude to ask her to leave- this house was rightfully hers, if Abraham had left it so. Miles never bothered to go through the papers in the basement- he just filed them away, clearing out a space. He wondered if her name was anywhere.

"Oh. I'll be staying."

"Here?"

Adela nodded. "Until I find something else to do."

"Oh."

The soup suddenly tasted bitter. It was going to be a long season.

[Cloud]

XP Reward!

From the sky falls your reward!

PC Name: Miles

Experience

Skill	XP Earned
Larceny	+1
Stealth	+1
Projection	+3
Rhetoric	+1

Lores

•	Lore Earned
•	Being Ransacked
•	Projection: Overgiving (Basic)
•	Adela Weilal: Acquaintance

Notes :

The thread was short but good to read, the more detail you go into with your skills the better your xp reward; as is expected for your higher skills. I think in your request you asked for XP for your NPC, however they do not receive any as they only help advance the story. Great creativity with the projection and keep it up!