Forged in Fire
The sweat glistened on Annasari's brow as she heard her breaths echo off the bricks of the narrow alley way. She slowed her footsteps finally, thinking she had lost those who were chasing her. Thievery was a moral gray area for her, though she knew she had to eat and therefore had to do things she wouldn't normally. She pivoted and placed her back against the wall, squatting down, and began to control her reparations. Her hand reached into her satchel and she felt the electrum in her palm, making sure she had not lost it during the run. She stood back up and pulled her hood over her head, then left the alley for the crowded streets. She turned into the first bar she found and quickly found a seat among the patrons.
"Your cheapest spirit, please," she told the bartender in her sing song voice.
As if she sensed something was wrong she reached down for her satchel, only to find it was no longer there. She shot up in a panic, almost knocking the stool from underneath her. She quickly regained her composure as she realized she was likely to draw suspicion, though many of the tavern folk were too far gone to even take notice of her presence. She turned, her eyes sweeping the room, as she noticed a man who had her satchel in hand. She grabbed her drink and approached him cautiously.
"It's not nice to take things that aren't yours."
Arturo Voss
"Your cheapest spirit, please," she told the bartender in her sing song voice.
As if she sensed something was wrong she reached down for her satchel, only to find it was no longer there. She shot up in a panic, almost knocking the stool from underneath her. She quickly regained her composure as she realized she was likely to draw suspicion, though many of the tavern folk were too far gone to even take notice of her presence. She turned, her eyes sweeping the room, as she noticed a man who had her satchel in hand. She grabbed her drink and approached him cautiously.
"It's not nice to take things that aren't yours."
Arturo Voss
