
Summer 62, 514 AV
There was nothing glamorous nor luxurious about the newfound occupation held by the young larcenist. True to the oath he had made to his beloved, Nickolai had ventured out amongst the Dynasties of Kenash in order to seek a more suitable form of employment. By a stroke of sheer luck, his search was exceptionally brief; for he came to earn the role of a personal courier for Lady Adelaide of the Sitai Dynasty. Now, while this had the potential to provide him with an honest source of income, it was the definition of hell upon his body. As a whole, the physical demands of ferrying messages were not too large. Nickolai would simply carry a piece of parchment or commit to memory a message to a destination and then carry back a response.
However, the most obvious downside was the distance he had to travel.
Although the Sitai Plantation was one of the closest to Kenash Proper, Nickolai had to dedicate several chimes daily simply to commuting either way. While not overly difficult in scope, trekking several miles each and every day was absolute murder upon the young larcenists' feet. In fact, he would often limb into the door of his home and immediately soak his "injured" feet in a warm basin of water. Of course, this was the price to pay for making his beloved happy...but what exactly was the cost? Sure, Nickolai claimed to be happy as long as Cecilia was...but deep down inside, there was not even the faintest hint of joy in this newfound occupation. Dealing with the wealthy up close and personal was not exactly the sort of thing that brought a smile to his face; nor did walking several miles in order to serve them.
It was during one evening in particular that the young larcenist had...a relapse of sorts. Like one recovering from an addiction, Nickolai still struggled with the untimely conclusion of his primary occupation. For years, stealing was what put food in his belly and coin in his pockets; and to do anything other than that felt absolutely wrong. What's more, there was always a certain thrill which came with the art of larceny. The racing of one's heart during a heist...the sweat which beaded upon one's palms...the rapid breathing as one frantically picked a lock...All of these things, and more, Nickolai missed. For the young larcenist, stealing was just as much an addiction as it was a source of income. Unbeknowest to him, like any man suffering from an addiction, quitting abruptly was the definition of setting one's self up for a relapse...This day, having only just sunk his feet into the aforementioned basin, Nickolai's attention was primarily upon the frontmost window. His home, one of the many small villas that made up the Terraces, provided an excellent view of the sunset. As if bidding the world a fond farewell, the life-granting orb of warmth descended to its resting place beyond the horizon. In its wake, it left a breathtaking painting in the heavens; one that Nickolai was beyond fond of.
With his arms folded across his chest, the young larcenist watched as the colors began to splash upon the clouds. Rich hues of crimson, magenta, and mandarin came to characterize the heavens; as if celebrating the incoming arrival of the stars. For Nickolai, this time of day was also the most...exciting...for in times past, it was now that he would prepare to venture out in order to practice his craft. However, at present, the sunset only proved to be a dagger aimed straight for his heart. Now, the sight was nothing short of a tease; almost begging Nickolai to act when he knew that he absolutely shouldn't. A deep and solemn sigh escaped the young larcenist's lips and he relaxed all the more into his seat, eventually tearing his gaze away from the beautiful heavens.
"C'mon Nick," he muttered to himself, "you've got a good thing going here...Steady work, a home, and a lovely woman. Don't petch this up man." For a moment, he leaned his head back and ran his fingers through his hair; feeling fully the internal turmoil and indecision. Upon righting himself, he noted his chest in the far corner of the room...and felt yet another stab at his heart. Fueled by sheer temptation, Nickolai rose from his seat and stepped forth from the basin (taking a moment to dry his soaking feet upon a towel before proceeding). With slow, almost cautious movements, he made his way across the room and came to a halt before the chest. Descension gripped him until he halted at a crouch.
His hands outstretched and opened the lid of the chest, revealing a handful of items within. There laid his trusty toolkit, filled to the brim with his lockpicks and other such items...and atop it was his mask. Simply gazing upon its form reminded Nickolai of the joyful expression Cecilia had upon her face when he finally stowed it away...and filled him with guilt as he took it into his grasp. For several minutes, Nickolai began to argue with himself whilst he stared blankly upon his mask. He began to rationalize every reason why he should don that piece of leather and take what did not belong to him. He thought of the corrupt Dynasties and wealthy. He thought of his own hardships. He thought of his aching petching feet...yet, before it was all said and done, there was a disturbance which tore his attention away from his thoughts.
A commotion nearby; one consisting of several raised voice and one that was practically shouting.
This came as a source of confusion for the young larcenist, for the Terraces were the definition of a quiet community. Rising to his feet, he made his way over to his frontmost window and witnessed the sight unfolding before the entrance of a neighboring home. There stood a single man with a duo of women. The first woman was the source of the shouting whilst the other stood meekly by, as if ashamed. "What in the hell is going on..." he muttered, gently stepping away from the window. He then pressed his form flat against the side of the wall, away from view, and slowly reached out his offhand. Awkwardly, his fingers then grasped the bottom of the window and slowly set about sliding it up: thereby admitting within an unmuffled string of dialogue.
Listening intently, Nickolai began to learn something that he did not know about the residents across the way. Apparently there was a husband who was committing adultery with and buying gifts for a harlot, of all things! Now discovered, the wife was ranting, raving, and making threats to return home to Syliras. She also used their unborn child as a threat; lording it over her spouse's head that he'll never be able to see it. Of course, the husband disputed the charges levied against him and the altercation continued for several minutes...until finally the wife stormed off. Apparently she would stay with a friend elsewhere in the city. There was an awkward silence which was then promptly filled by the harlot's own departure; for apparently this was much more than she was being paid for. Finally, the husband himself departed, vowing to drink himself under the table at the Traveler's Complex.
This, Nickolai soon realized, left his neighbor's home unoccupied...with nightfall soon approaching...
.
There was nothing glamorous nor luxurious about the newfound occupation held by the young larcenist. True to the oath he had made to his beloved, Nickolai had ventured out amongst the Dynasties of Kenash in order to seek a more suitable form of employment. By a stroke of sheer luck, his search was exceptionally brief; for he came to earn the role of a personal courier for Lady Adelaide of the Sitai Dynasty. Now, while this had the potential to provide him with an honest source of income, it was the definition of hell upon his body. As a whole, the physical demands of ferrying messages were not too large. Nickolai would simply carry a piece of parchment or commit to memory a message to a destination and then carry back a response.
However, the most obvious downside was the distance he had to travel.
Although the Sitai Plantation was one of the closest to Kenash Proper, Nickolai had to dedicate several chimes daily simply to commuting either way. While not overly difficult in scope, trekking several miles each and every day was absolute murder upon the young larcenists' feet. In fact, he would often limb into the door of his home and immediately soak his "injured" feet in a warm basin of water. Of course, this was the price to pay for making his beloved happy...but what exactly was the cost? Sure, Nickolai claimed to be happy as long as Cecilia was...but deep down inside, there was not even the faintest hint of joy in this newfound occupation. Dealing with the wealthy up close and personal was not exactly the sort of thing that brought a smile to his face; nor did walking several miles in order to serve them.
It was during one evening in particular that the young larcenist had...a relapse of sorts. Like one recovering from an addiction, Nickolai still struggled with the untimely conclusion of his primary occupation. For years, stealing was what put food in his belly and coin in his pockets; and to do anything other than that felt absolutely wrong. What's more, there was always a certain thrill which came with the art of larceny. The racing of one's heart during a heist...the sweat which beaded upon one's palms...the rapid breathing as one frantically picked a lock...All of these things, and more, Nickolai missed. For the young larcenist, stealing was just as much an addiction as it was a source of income. Unbeknowest to him, like any man suffering from an addiction, quitting abruptly was the definition of setting one's self up for a relapse...This day, having only just sunk his feet into the aforementioned basin, Nickolai's attention was primarily upon the frontmost window. His home, one of the many small villas that made up the Terraces, provided an excellent view of the sunset. As if bidding the world a fond farewell, the life-granting orb of warmth descended to its resting place beyond the horizon. In its wake, it left a breathtaking painting in the heavens; one that Nickolai was beyond fond of.
With his arms folded across his chest, the young larcenist watched as the colors began to splash upon the clouds. Rich hues of crimson, magenta, and mandarin came to characterize the heavens; as if celebrating the incoming arrival of the stars. For Nickolai, this time of day was also the most...exciting...for in times past, it was now that he would prepare to venture out in order to practice his craft. However, at present, the sunset only proved to be a dagger aimed straight for his heart. Now, the sight was nothing short of a tease; almost begging Nickolai to act when he knew that he absolutely shouldn't. A deep and solemn sigh escaped the young larcenist's lips and he relaxed all the more into his seat, eventually tearing his gaze away from the beautiful heavens.
"C'mon Nick," he muttered to himself, "you've got a good thing going here...Steady work, a home, and a lovely woman. Don't petch this up man." For a moment, he leaned his head back and ran his fingers through his hair; feeling fully the internal turmoil and indecision. Upon righting himself, he noted his chest in the far corner of the room...and felt yet another stab at his heart. Fueled by sheer temptation, Nickolai rose from his seat and stepped forth from the basin (taking a moment to dry his soaking feet upon a towel before proceeding). With slow, almost cautious movements, he made his way across the room and came to a halt before the chest. Descension gripped him until he halted at a crouch.
His hands outstretched and opened the lid of the chest, revealing a handful of items within. There laid his trusty toolkit, filled to the brim with his lockpicks and other such items...and atop it was his mask. Simply gazing upon its form reminded Nickolai of the joyful expression Cecilia had upon her face when he finally stowed it away...and filled him with guilt as he took it into his grasp. For several minutes, Nickolai began to argue with himself whilst he stared blankly upon his mask. He began to rationalize every reason why he should don that piece of leather and take what did not belong to him. He thought of the corrupt Dynasties and wealthy. He thought of his own hardships. He thought of his aching petching feet...yet, before it was all said and done, there was a disturbance which tore his attention away from his thoughts.
A commotion nearby; one consisting of several raised voice and one that was practically shouting.
This came as a source of confusion for the young larcenist, for the Terraces were the definition of a quiet community. Rising to his feet, he made his way over to his frontmost window and witnessed the sight unfolding before the entrance of a neighboring home. There stood a single man with a duo of women. The first woman was the source of the shouting whilst the other stood meekly by, as if ashamed. "What in the hell is going on..." he muttered, gently stepping away from the window. He then pressed his form flat against the side of the wall, away from view, and slowly reached out his offhand. Awkwardly, his fingers then grasped the bottom of the window and slowly set about sliding it up: thereby admitting within an unmuffled string of dialogue.
Listening intently, Nickolai began to learn something that he did not know about the residents across the way. Apparently there was a husband who was committing adultery with and buying gifts for a harlot, of all things! Now discovered, the wife was ranting, raving, and making threats to return home to Syliras. She also used their unborn child as a threat; lording it over her spouse's head that he'll never be able to see it. Of course, the husband disputed the charges levied against him and the altercation continued for several minutes...until finally the wife stormed off. Apparently she would stay with a friend elsewhere in the city. There was an awkward silence which was then promptly filled by the harlot's own departure; for apparently this was much more than she was being paid for. Finally, the husband himself departed, vowing to drink himself under the table at the Traveler's Complex.
This, Nickolai soon realized, left his neighbor's home unoccupied...with nightfall soon approaching...
.