Post by Alexandryne nó Shahrizai on Jun 14, 2010 22:58:28 GMT -5
I had become adept at biding my time. I sat, in the rain, under an overhang in a dark alley in Night's Doorstep, just waiting for the stumbling man across the way to move into the perfect position. The trick to stealing was to make my move during some sort of diversion, so waiting for just the right moment was crucial to success. In this case, the right moment was when the whore he was with pushed herself up against him just as the passed me.
I darted forward and bumped into the fat drunkard, deftly lifting his purse, cutting the strings with the sharp knife I had bought with my ill-gotten gains.
"Watch where you're going, brat!" He hollered, but with a wink at his whore, Belinna, I disappeared into the crowd, purse in hand. She knew me of course, and knew that rather than the few coins that he might have tossed her for her favors, I would split the purse fifty-fifty for her assistance with the diversion. The next most important part of successful pilfering was a good accomplice.
I met Belinna later on that night, giving her her share of the purse, and letting her fuss over me. She was like an old mother hen, and while I prided myself on my independence, it was nice to have someone act like I imagined a mother might, if I had ever had a mother. I paid a couple of coins for some leftovers from the night's meal at the inn that she worked out of and a couple more for a bed in the stables. I took my bowl of stew, mostly vegetables, as meat was for actual customers, and my stale bread, and headed for the stable, climbing up a ladder to the little ledge strewn with hay. Crossing my legs, I devoured the stew as it were the finest cuisine - it was the first meal I had had in two days, and indeed to my palette, it was the finest cuisine.
When I finished, yawning, I stretched out in the hay, listening to the horses whuff and shuffle, my eyes heavy with sleep. Though there were many drawbacks to a life on the street, at times like this I felt content ... my belly full, a warm place to sleep, what more could anyone ask for?
I darted forward and bumped into the fat drunkard, deftly lifting his purse, cutting the strings with the sharp knife I had bought with my ill-gotten gains.
"Watch where you're going, brat!" He hollered, but with a wink at his whore, Belinna, I disappeared into the crowd, purse in hand. She knew me of course, and knew that rather than the few coins that he might have tossed her for her favors, I would split the purse fifty-fifty for her assistance with the diversion. The next most important part of successful pilfering was a good accomplice.
I met Belinna later on that night, giving her her share of the purse, and letting her fuss over me. She was like an old mother hen, and while I prided myself on my independence, it was nice to have someone act like I imagined a mother might, if I had ever had a mother. I paid a couple of coins for some leftovers from the night's meal at the inn that she worked out of and a couple more for a bed in the stables. I took my bowl of stew, mostly vegetables, as meat was for actual customers, and my stale bread, and headed for the stable, climbing up a ladder to the little ledge strewn with hay. Crossing my legs, I devoured the stew as it were the finest cuisine - it was the first meal I had had in two days, and indeed to my palette, it was the finest cuisine.
When I finished, yawning, I stretched out in the hay, listening to the horses whuff and shuffle, my eyes heavy with sleep. Though there were many drawbacks to a life on the street, at times like this I felt content ... my belly full, a warm place to sleep, what more could anyone ask for?