Rivain was working out quite well. More lucrative and less restrictive Chantry minds governed these shores. Technically Antiva did, but things were.. Iffy. Colt paid it no real mind as he leaned against the support. Arms folded over his chest while eyes carefully watched those mulling around the market for a potential customer. They’d leave his company lighter and none-the-wiser that a simple con had lifted their coin purse, he just had to find the right one.
To his side stood a vendor friend, one who’d paid for his services of not lifting anything but a snack or too. A nice little set up. Colt could see all the avenues leading in and out, tracking potentials from stall to stall and gaining more understanding of their habits, jobs, possible professions and even making up personal quests. Ah the unknown, inner workings of folks minds were always queer. That’s why locks were easier. Patterns, mechanisms, they were puzzle pieces when disassembled, but to him, they were pieces of a greater sculpture. Some he had even had to whisper to, quietly talk to it for the goods beyond to be given up.
The stall held a few relics and knickknacks, Colt had added a few flashy looking items to try and lure in some unassuming but curious patron, but no-one had given in to the bait so far. If they were interested in something, it was to do with the vendor’s own stock. Shifting against his resting place he’d readjust, taking a final glance of the market before picking up a bag of candied dates. A rare treat for him, but Colt had only managed to toss back a few before he spotted something curious.
A mane of pale hair, moving, weaving its way through the crowd.
To his side stood a vendor friend, one who’d paid for his services of not lifting anything but a snack or too. A nice little set up. Colt could see all the avenues leading in and out, tracking potentials from stall to stall and gaining more understanding of their habits, jobs, possible professions and even making up personal quests. Ah the unknown, inner workings of folks minds were always queer. That’s why locks were easier. Patterns, mechanisms, they were puzzle pieces when disassembled, but to him, they were pieces of a greater sculpture. Some he had even had to whisper to, quietly talk to it for the goods beyond to be given up.
The stall held a few relics and knickknacks, Colt had added a few flashy looking items to try and lure in some unassuming but curious patron, but no-one had given in to the bait so far. If they were interested in something, it was to do with the vendor’s own stock. Shifting against his resting place he’d readjust, taking a final glance of the market before picking up a bag of candied dates. A rare treat for him, but Colt had only managed to toss back a few before he spotted something curious.
A mane of pale hair, moving, weaving its way through the crowd.
09-09-2023, 12:43 PM
