after sunset.

[Amanda]

The sky above Kabal City's marketplace was a rusty orange-red as the sun began its lazy descent toward the horizon; the merchant's wooden stalls cast long, winding shadows over the cobbled streets that caressed the footsteps of passersby. Darkness would fall soon enough, a softly enveloping blanket of security to those who knew how to make use of it.

A single dragonfly, golden brown like melting caramel and glinting in the sun's dying light, fluttered innocently between the pedestrian traffic, drawing in a few glances as it darted to and fro. It landed for a brief moment on the tip of a passing elf's ear, then swept away again, mingling with the dusky air. Several curious glances followed the dragonfly as it fluttered up into the sky and then -- out of sight.

Cloaked in the shadow of a basket-weaver's stall, Anyanka Aleid leaned casually against it as though she had been there all evening, head bowed and fingers toying with the coin purse she had just nicked off an unsuspecting passerby. Her thin mouth curved into an almost imperceptible grin -- the only praise she would allow herself in this public place.

She tucked the purse into a fold of her cloak, satisfied with the day's work, and began a leisurely pace toward the southeast district; plans of acquiring a room for the night swam lazily through her mind, amidst dreams of luxuriously-furnished inn suites and all the lovely trinkets that would go missing upon her departure.

Anyanka joined the gathering throng of people making toward the various ways out of the market as darkness began to fall, winking cheekily at a pedestrian who caught her eye and wondering as she did so where the night would take her next.

[Jessie]

It was set upon that time of the Cycle that the mercenaries would traditionally restock upon the Capital, the heated visions of Conquest and that of your casual crimes ducking in cover menacingly as if they had a chance to get away while the militia was preoccupied. This, unfortunately, is where people like him came in, a paid assistance to make sure no thief got away dirty handed, but as clean as a steel blade can cut.

The sky was tainted with an orange dusk as the markets became numb by the crowds. Noise was a blur between footsteps and sales, while that of even the slightest flick of the wrist could cause someone to land face first with a plated civilian plopped on top of them, weapon at there neck. This would be the physical definition of who was a local Imperial, compared to your casual Merc who traveled to whoever had the bigger pot of Gold.

The Capital was fairly strict upon that of piety crimes such as the stealing of a fruit, or a craft that could easily be reconstructed within five minutes time. And if you were clever enough to get away with it, then you obviously grew up there, studying the motions of the Guards, what makes them twitch, and where the safe zones were. Not to mention the slight racism to those who, in other words, did not belong. Oh yes, if you did not fair in a mutated gene that set you apart from the majority of society, you were a fly in the muck.

This is where this particular Elvaan had succeeded in. Kabal City was known as the Dissimulative Capital, otherwise known as the Tainted City. Being that of opposing blood, Mithos had deemed himself rather lucky, compared to his decedents. Not only did he avoid the genetic plague of schizophrenia that prevented from journeying outside Liath in the first place, but he had grown upon a title. One of the former Mercenaries of Aedai, and well known to Kabal and its' citizens, he had been one out of a handful that could approach the Imperial Guard without being questioned, or scatter the Markets without being accused of not belonging. He even held his own residence in the Southern district!

But even those who bathed in glory could care less. Stealing an apple? It'd send the Guards on a wild goose chase. But to this Elf? It would be safe to say that he'd simply stare at you as if you were stupid, then move along with his own shopping. He never did deal with what stayed on the inside of the City Walls- that wasn't what he was hired for, nor would he ever. He stuck to the Council's side for that of what happened on the outside, disregarding that of Conquest. If that thief was to somehow get outside with said apple, where the Guards drew their quota, that was where the real fun began. And Mithos was quite the thrill seeker.

And that was his purpose this day, to find something more. Clothed in simple cloth, patched from a local tailor, the lanky man laid against the walls of the Blacksmithing building, crimson orbs staring over the series of merchants that stretched along the opposite side. His thin arms were crossed at his chest, and a dieing scowl was almost permanent upon those faint lips. Like a Lion awaiting the Zebra to graze, his fingers drummed against his biceps patiently, just waiting for that flick of the wrist to slip...
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