Yaro spotted her prey: a grizzled old man who flowed from stand to stand, taking a few seconds at each to inspect their assortment of wares. He was distracted, waded in a dense crowd, and had the pouch in an easy to access area around his hip. A perfect target.
The contents of the pouch were what she was after, the container obviously made to hold money with its thick, stiff leather cased metallic cap over the mouth. It wasn’t wise to walk around with thin material as the light from the money -fuur as had been used in this nation, and many many others- would shine through, making it evident to all around who had money and roughly how much. What he had was almost just as bad. It was so flamboyant, a sign one had wealth, a pouch like that would just hide how much. It was mos evident to those who were looking for it.
She swam her way through the packed market to be closer while making sure she was not noticed. Though fashionable to have a pouch like that openly on one’s person, it was foolish for anyone who wanted to keep their money. Many think that, if someone were to take it, they would feel the sudden loss of weight or a pulling. That was a perpetuated falsehood to keep the masses uninformed. The method she would utilize, most would think is would never succeed.
Yaro brushed up against her prey, keeping her spacing to look like she had no choice if she wanted to make it through the crowd. She moved her cloak to cover the pouch. The motions were second nature for her. With a bit of effort for her ethereal hand -and much more concentration-, she opened the cap, drew out the golden flame and pulled them through the seams of her coat and into her closed palm, and closed the cap in one swift motion. She was away from the elder next, him being none the wiser to his loss in fortune.
Yaro took a brief, deserved, sigh. It had been almost two years since Yaro had done this. One mistake, one person seeing the sudden gushing of light of the fur... She had experienced the repercussions of someone seeing too many times already. Those events h she had been discovered only reinforced the proper actions; she would never be caught again.
That was all before she had met her Atho. It seemed her muscles remembered more than she had. Or, at least, the memories were just dormant. She thought she had left them behind, as her Atho would undoubtedly disapprove of what she had just done. And he was right, it wasn’t right to take from others. He had put a concerted effort into making her a better person, for what little it was worth. But then again, she wanted to be better, to keep him from leaving her. And to be better, it meant giving up much of what she had learned that kept her alive.
But what else was she to do, it wasn’t like she could walk up to anyone and ask them for money. Any attention brought to her would lead to disaster, it always did. Hate-filled shouts, stones thrown, it was too much of a hassle. It held risk enough just to buy something, something that she’d have to do for the information.
Words of her old mentor, Natrai, came to her: the world isn't fair, so we need to make it.
No, the world wasn’t. It had taken her Atho from her and pushed her back into the pit depravity; no one else could possibly be so far down it as she. Certainly not that old man she now had the money of. He wasn’t born to a life where your mere presence would have people attack you. To make things fair, he needed to be cut down a peg, or 5 fuur apparently. It wasn’t that much anyways, he likely had it as change from an exchange for goods. But for her, it meant eating for a day or two.
No, that was not what she would spend this money on. She needed to save it to buy information on her Atho’s whereabouts. And that meant stealing a bit more, as the commodity of sight brokers was in high demand and low supply. Not even every sight broker would be well equipped or talented enough to solve every mystery. But that didn’t stop them from taking one’s money upfront and keeping it after having failed. Yaro slipped a piece of dried ghrepul flank from one of the stands into her cloak. She wasn’t sure how much she would need in the end, depending on what happened to him. It could cost anywhere from twenty fuur to two hundred. Her best course of action would be to gain information on a more powerful sight broker, to minimize the headache of having to deal with glorified mind readers who only tell the customer what they want to hear.
Yaro made her way from the midtown district of whatever city and headed towards a more poverty-stricken district. There, her voice wouldn’t draw as much suspicion, allowing her to ask around for her needed information.
She took one wrong step and her leg erupted with pain. She fell to one knee, trying her best to force the pain back. Everyone walked around her fallen figure, uncaring. She heaved herself back up onto one leg. She hobbled over to an alley, under one of the many-tiered streets that crossed up from ground level to three stories on the other side of the alley.
“Excuse me,” a voice came from behind her, “are you alright?”
Yaro righted her mask and glanced over her shoulder. She was leaving a trail of blood on the dusted stone. A drake -a female keuh from its four trunk-like limbs and two wings, twice her size and in a protector uniform- was edging closer to her, worry on her face. “I am fine,” Yaro said with a thick Soakn accent “I not like shoes, I may have stepped on something.”
The drake shook its head, “that is a lot of blood, I can take you to-” The scarlet red of their uniform said ‘danger’ rather than ‘aid’.
“Forgive me,” Yaro interrupted, “I not need, food… need bandage.”
The drake looked at her skeptically, “you are sure about that?”
“Yes,” Yaro said, turning back to head up to the next tier of roads. She tried her best to use the hurt leg, to feign that her lie was true. It seemed to work as she heard the drake stomp away.
That was too close. She resumed her hobbling, covering the open wound with her paws to keep the bleeding at a minimum. The thought of someone following her trail had her more worried than fainting from blood loss. If she fainted, well, she wouldn’t feel anything that would happen to her.
Her stomach growled as she slumped in a crevice under one of the buildings. It appeared that it had once connected to the underground portion of the city, but it was now closed off, now only collecting sewage and trash. The air was starkly different than just a few feet behind her. From the sweet smells of dry spices and fragrance paints to heavy and humid air with indescribable smells that stung her nostrils. A place very few were likely to follow her to.
She collapsed on a small rock that was elevated above the rotting pool. After a quick survey and an effort to sense any presences, she was alone. She opened her cloak to the smell of flesh that somehow was stronger than the crevice’s. The wound had re-opened and oozed with blood and puss.
With the slightest bit of hesitation, she stuck her tongue into the wound, to seal it off again. She felt something sharp brush against her tongue during the first swipe.That kak muzoval must have done more than broken her bones, it must have shattered them. She hadn’t realized it when she first healed herself, and now she was going to regret it. The older the wound, the harder it was to lick back together, wounds going long enough being impossible. Hopefully, a day wouldn’t be too long. There was still a chance to repair the bone, or at least repair it enough to keep her leg in usable condition.
She would have to do this now while she still had enough energy left in her. Yaro dug her claws into the rift in her leg, prying it open. She blacked out for a second, then forced herself to look into the wound. She couldn’t stop. The bone was indeed in splinters, having pieces nearly falling out of her leg now. She kept the leg open with her claws and moved the pieces back, slowly, with her ethereal hand. She was not strong with her ethereal hand, and it already had her head pounding with the effort she put into it. She persisted, putting the larger chunks where they belonged and sliding shards into holes where they would fit. All the while, she would lick parts of the bone, having it seal back into one piece.
With each lick, she felt her mind slipping away from her. By the time it came time to seal her leg back up she was already delirious. The loss of blood, the energy spent, the constant pain, it was too much. She couldn’t surface for a breath, it would seal the end of her leg. She continued licking, each lick sending her further and further into oblivion.
Somehow, she finished awake. She was hungry. Where was food? She looked to her hand, her robe had food earlier. Where did it go, had she dropped it somewhere? She clumsily turned around to look behind her. She fell on her back, her mask splashed in the pool. No, she needed that. She flailed about, trying to retrieve the mask that kept floating away from her.
There, her stomach told her, next to it, food. She reached for the piece of ghrepul that floated next to her mask and stuffed it down her throat. No, her stomach said, and immediately vomited the piece of meat, returning it to float down the pool.
