Snow was falling in the Trader’s Market, but merchants and patrons alike didn’t seem to care; the harbor was still bustling with activity. A young wick by the name of Tawni was among them, cloak wrapped tight around a slightly shivering frame. The witch was a creature of warm sun and balmy breezes, and these freezing temperatures were doing nothing for her mood. She resented the snow more and more with each step she took.
In spite of the weather, she still had to eat, so here she was, outside in her torn cloak and red nose cursing the slush that pulled at her feet and threatened to topple her at any second. Jingling the coin purse at her belt, she made a face. It was much closer to empty than she liked, and business was rather slow since she’d arrived in Old Rose. Tapping her chin thoughtfully, Tawni looked around. A busy market with plenty of distracted drunkards… Maybe she could refill it a bit, after all.
Calculating hazel eyes swept the crowd, shuffling slowly and absently enough that none would take notice of the way her gaze assessed each person she passed. Too young, too old, too alert, too poor… At last, her lips curled in a smile, adjusting her hood a little more securely to conceal it. There. A middle-aged man in well-tailored garb with the distinct gait of a kov who’s thrown back a few too many ales for the time of day. He’s perfect.
Slowly, the wick meandered in her target’s direction, stopping at a few stalls here and there to browse their wares with half an eye, all the while keeping careful track of the man’s location. Over the span of several minutes, she drifted closer and closer until she was mere steps away from the oblivious fellow. Another smile crossed her face, dropping her eyes to the ground while she prepared to pounce.
Here we go.
Straightening up, she strode toward him, “accidentally” slipping over a patch of ice and stumbling right into the man’s hefty form. Her arms flailed out to catch herself, one ever so conveniently landing at his belt while the other took hold of his shoulder. Eyes wide and expression bewildered, she looked up into his face, her hand groping along his waist for the purse she knew was there as she “fought” to regain her balance.
“Epaemo!” she gasped in apology, the man’s face just as confused as hers pretended to be. “This damn ice, I swear!”
Beefy hands moved to help her, Tawni’s fingers finding his purse at last and deftly relieving him of it. “O-oh, tha’s al’right,” was the unsuspecting man’s slurred response, the witch’s arm sliding back behind her cloak and tucking the small bag under her own belt. “Slipped a few times t’day, meself,” he hastened to reassure her, clumsily patting her on the shoulder. “Just got to keep yer eyes on yer feet, lass.”
“Of course, of course,” she breathed in reply, using his arms to steady herself and step away. A charming smile was flicked his way, playfully tapping his cheek with a wink. “I’ll make sure to be more careful, aye.”
The discomfited man guffawed into his beard, clearing his throat and ducking his head to hide the flush that crept to his cheeks. “Indeed, ye uh… Ye make sure to do that.” With a flustered cough, he offered a brusque nod and did a little stumbling himself. “Ma’am.” That seemed to be his form of farewell, promptly turning on his heel and walking off and leaving a gleeful Tawni giggling softly in his wake.
Glowing with the satisfaction of a job well done, the witch walked back off toward one of the food stalls with her pilfered loot jingling at her side. That was almost too easy, she thought, offering the merchant a sweet smile before she started browsing his wares. Maybe I can even snag a few more before I get out of here…