Soledad
*It was not often, Niles thought to himself, that he had a delivery with such a thorough change in scenery. As he strode down the gravel path through the Greenheart west of Girian, he wondered how long it had been since he'd been truly out in the woods. Perhaps it had been that strange woman that had gone on about how alone she was when he'd made his delivery - the half-fairy, if he recalled right. Strange. He shook his head to clear it.

It was better to take in the smells, sights, and sounds while he had the opportunity. Most days, he was traveling down a cobblestone path amongst the clamor of wagon wheels, merchants hawking their wares, bartering customers, and farmers taking their harvest to market. The quiet of the forest was a welcome change. Worn leather boots carried him further under the great canopy of oak and maple. The Greenheart was still alive with sounds, but they were gentle on the ear.

A bird sang in the trees. The reminder struck Niles quickly that he was never quite alone - each bird call could be the note of an enemy spy, hiding as a bird for the moment before unveiling themselves to slip a dagger between his ribs or a spell over his senses. He'd hidden often enough as a gecko that it was prudent to assume others did the same.

At the moment, however, his disguise was intact. Ethan Pedron, a Findaran courier with golden blonde hair, a gray peddler's cloak, a brown leather bag, dull green tunic, beige work trousers, and a smile, was out on a mail delivery. He was no spy - and how could he be? He was simply out enjoying his work, delivering a letter in the area and enjoying the sunshine.

At the back of his mind, he wondered if he should really charge more than he did for out of town deliveries. The walk into the forest was nice, but he could have been getting a good deal more work done per day if he'd been charging for, say, four regular deliveries instead of these urgents. Still, people liked customer service, and it kept the customer base.*

_ _
*When he emerged from the forest and strode his way into town, Niles kept his eyes open and his mind sharp, though the letter he was delivering was only a trifling matter in the grand scheme of things. An order of a gold ring, with specifications included in the body for its construction. The gravel soon became cobblestone, and the empty path became a busy street as Niles searched for the jeweler in question, merging with a crowd of passerby as he went. The oaken walking stick tapped its way across the stones as he forged onward...*
Orville
It was a careful dance that Thorn maneuvered. To work the illusion of doe-eyed innocence yet suppress the devious grin that threatened to split across her features, to speak softly and cluelessly yet have each word meticulously selected from within, and to display a harmless lack of coordination yet to possess the reflexes of a predatory feline. The thief knew all too well that one misstep in this delicate dance would crumble the facade of the character she had become. Though, this thief also knew that should her skills of deceit falter then there was always a mind-swaying spell that could bring everything back on track. Failure wasn't an option, not when one was as perfectly talented at thievery as Thorn Reynders; at least, that is what her inflated ego enjoyed to sing high praises about... Nonetheless, today's dance of thieves would hopefully not require the usage of Enchantment. Not with a target as simple as this one. She had spotted the blonde-headed courier enter town and tailed him, her gaze eagerly set upon what treasures he could have concealed within his person. Any moment that the thief sensed the courier's attention drift into her attention, she would swiftly conceal herself within the nooks and crannies of the town's expanse; shifting into the alleyways and leaving nothing but air behind her, as if she had never existed in plain view in the first place. When Thorn became satisfied with the observation stage of her thievery, she set forth into the action phase.

*Time to rob this foolish courier blind...* 

;🦨⟡"

Thorn discreetly slipped in the alleyways once more, and dashed her way deeper into the town, aiming to intercept the courier at a crossroads ahead. Once a fair amount of distance was created between the thief and her target, she blended herself in with a small crowd of village folk. Fortunately with her outfit decisions, she truly blended in with them too; her frame outfitted in a standard village woman dress, slightly dirtied to give the illusion as if she had been working the day away. As if on cue, the courier had merged with the group of villages and village-woman-Thorn. Her bright yellow-orange gaze feigned innocent elation as she glanced into the sky, pulling a soft smile upon her lips as she stopped to watch a flock of colorful birds soar over the rooftops. Her timing perfectly set her directly in front of the courier and allowed little room for him to duck out of the way. Simultaneously, Thorn clashed into the chest of the courier and flailed her limbs in a seemingly haphazardly manner which provided for two carefully plotted actions; the first being an attempt to kick the man's walking stick away and the second being her hands flying towards his hips to steady herself. Though, one hand would try and sneak into the pocket opposite of where she attempted to kick the walking stick. What or if she pulled anything out successfully, that was up to fate... Though if the thief proved victorious, whatever object she had nabbed would swiftly be stored into the deep pockets of her dress; the motion looked as if she went to steady herself on the man's hips and then moved back to wipe her hands down the apron of her dress.

;🦨⟡"

"Oh my, my, my! I am so dearly sorry!" Thorn wailed, her deep Gantrick accent suddenly completely absent in favor of a shrill Alynthi woman's voice, "Are you okay? Oh dear, your cane! Allow me..." She scrambled to grab his walking stick and handed it back to the courier, "I am so *Terribly* Sorry. It has certainly been a lengthy day and I suppose my mind has flown away," A chuckle rolled from her lips, "But, don't let me take away any more of your time. I'll just be on my way and you on yours..."
Soledad
*It wasn't every day that he had the experience of being robbed.

Niles enjoyed travel a good deal, and with travel came the possibility of being accosted on the side of the road by those who wished to take the contents of your coin purse for their personal gain. Usually, these came in the form of large groups of scraggly men who were forced into a life of crime for one reason or another - perhaps they had always been neighborhood bullies, perhaps the harvest was particularly bad that year. Highwaymen were a mixed bag in that regard.

Thieves, on the other hand, came in many shapes and sizes. One did not have to pose a threat of physical violence to steal, where robbery needed the application of force to be a present illusion, if not a real possibility. Niles himself had been taught the hallmarks of a thief a hundred times and a hundred times again. Inconspicuous garb. Moving with the crowd, not toward any specific destination except for a mark. Then, a distraction of some kind to keep the mark occupied while his or her pocket was thoroughly cleaned. Light fingers. Children and women were often employed.

As it happened, Niles knew them all too well not to suspect what was about to occur when the woman in front of him stopped so abuptly in the to look at a flight of birds. The collision of their bodies was almost textbook - and the action of steadying herself on his hips was absolutely perfect form to snatch his purse from off his belt. Thieves, he knew, needed quick access in and out of pockets to leave with valuables safely. That meant his mail bag, fastened inconveniently for a quick swipe, was safe. His purse was not.

He had to admire the work, in some way. She was obviously quite competent at her job, and she had managed to pick a mark that would be forced to keep quiet about what she was doing, albeit unknowingly. It was interesting enough to play along with for the moment. He let out a groan of pain as he brought himself back up to his full height.*

_ _
"No, no, it's..." *He waved it off, a small smile flashing its way across his face as he assumed the part of the friendly courier once more.* "I'm sorry to knock into you. Now, where is my... Ah." *He accepted the walking stick from her with a gracious smile, wondering what she had taken. After all, while he knew the routine, her touch was as light as they came, and he was not omniscient.*

"I appreciate it. Long as I've got my mail and my purse, I'll be all right to continue." *He patted himself down briefly, confirming that the drawstring pouch with most of his coinage was still there.* "Should be all right, I haven't dropped anything."

*What she had taken, he realized, was the contents of his pocket - the extra change he kept in case his purse was stolen. Five silver pieces. Usually enough to cover fare home, a new set of clothes, and a meal. He found himself impressed.* "You all right, miss...?" *He enquired.* "Usually when someone's that distracted they've got something on their mind."
Orville
*You didn't drop anything but, you sure lost something...* Thorn mused within her head; internally relishing in the successful and effortless pickpocket. Though as her bright orange-yellow eyes scanned the courier's frame as he patted himself down, she realized *What a shame...* Shame indeed, that he had that mailbag locked up tight. It was a hidden treasure trove of mysteries and whether or not it withheld any shiny objects, Thorn still delighted in the thought of perusing through people's private mail; perhaps she would reply to a few letters with obscene words or, drop a piece of mail or two upon the wrong doorsteps. The urge was tempting. To prolong this encounter, to string along this puppy-eyed courier and see how much more plunder she might deprive from him. However... *Nah. He is almost too easy. What fun is that?* So, the thief would conclude to leave this man in dust with a few coins short. 

;🦨⟡"

"Elizabeth, my name is Elizabeth. But, my friends just call me Beth," Thorn offered a warm smile that would befit someone of a pure, moral stature, "And what's not on my mind? If not a day of working at the farm, it's daydreaming that one day I'll get to travel and see..." She trailed off then burst into an embarrassed laughter, a sheepish look overcoming her features completely, "Oh, I am sorry. You probably have lots to do and lots of people waiting on you," Her eyes flickered to his mailbag then she bowed in an apologetic manner, "Again, I am terribly sorry. I'll be out of your hair now. Have the most lovely of lovely days!" With that, Thorn skipped past the courier and offered a wave goodbye; not providing the man an opportunity to respond and carry on the conversation. After all, her business with him had been completed and the longer she remained around, the more risk she placed herself in. She didn't need him to abruptly realize that he had misplaced some worthless pocket change at the exact moment that she clashed into him. A sigh vibrated through Thorn's chest as she fingered the coins in her dress pocket that she had snatched from him. *Pocket change.* While the reward of pickpocketing the courier certainly wasn't as satisfying, the thrill of it at least momentarily settled her appetite for danger. She didn't always steal necessarily for the prize but, simply because she could and not a soul could do a *Damn* Thing about it.* 


;🦨⟡"

When a safe distance away from the courier, Thorn ducked into an alleyway that would eventually lead her to the outskirts of Girian; where the mouth of the forest stood and beckoned her inside for an afternoon nap. Without so much as a glance backward, the thief waltzed into the woods. Once in the cover of the canopies and thickets, her hands moved to her dress skirt and in a single pull, she tugged it off to reveal a pair of brown leather pants beneath. She held up the dress skirt and shook out the coins from the pockets into her greedy hands, then stuffed the silver pieces into a leather pouch upon her belt; promptly buttoning it up afterward. Thorn proceeded deeper into the forest, her eyes carefully scanning for a perfect spot to cozy up and relax for the remainder of the afternoon; she figured that by the time she awoke, the evening would be setting in and the *Real* Big spenders would start to prowl about in the town. For now, the streets were evidently filled with *Boring* And *Poor* People. As the Beastwalker searched for her ideal nap location, she didn't think much of her surroundings. After all, if someone had tailed her or intended to sneak up on her, she would have *Already* Discovered them. Thorn thought herself perfect at just about everything, and that included being omniscient of her environment...
Soledad
*Oh, she was laying it on thick. Have the **Loveliest** Of lovely days! **Daydreaming** That she'd one day get to travel and see... The contents of his coin purse, most like. Doe-eyed farm girl it was. Elizabeth. If she was smart - which he suspected she was - there was no chance that was her real name. He himself was using a pseudonym for his work. The way she repeated her name was more proof of that.*

"Oh, no harm done, miss Elizabeth." *He flashed a friendly grin back, appraising the thief that had tried to take his gold and succeeded. Two-tone hair, black and white. Almost as if... A fellow beastwalker, perhaps. There was something to it indeed. Certainly, she was distinctive - and stress brought gray hairs, but not like those. No roots showed any black growing back in under the white hairs.*

"Have a lovely day yourself!" *He called as she skipped - **Skipped** - away past him to try and get out of sight. Skipping! He nearly broke his facade right there and then out of sheer fury. Oh, look at me, he thought. I'm an airheaded farm girl who just happened to bhump into you, mister. I would never steal the coin right out of your pocket. I don't know what stealing is!

He itched to tail her, to be drawn into the sort of competition that would lead him back to the game and all the intricacies within, but that ran its own risks. Detection, namely. He had let himself be stolen from for a good reason - his cover was once again reinforced by the fact that he had let himself be robbed. Sure, he was a good courier, delivering his messages in a secure bag, but his purse and pockets were for the public to take. 

That, he decided, was one of the most infuriating things about being a spy. His walking stick tapped almost angrily upon the cobblestones as he forced himself to go the other way, smiling but furious that he had been taken advantage of. The next time he saw that 'Elizabeth', she was going to have a rather long and dry conversation about taxes...*