<div class="floatleft">(http://i307.photobucket.com/albums/nn313/NovemberWerewolf/Female%20Characters/__AssectatoR___by_XxKalixX.jpg)</div><strong>Name:</strong>La’ora<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Riften Docks<br/><strong>Time:</strong>Early-ass morning<br/><strong>Tagging:</strong>Anders<br/><br/>The night belonged to<em>them</em>. As soon as the shadows began to grow, consuming the world of daylight the thieves, bruisers and others with questionable agendas found themselves released into the world ripe for the pickings. With nimble steps and agile fingers, ominous figures plucked and plundered to their hearts delight, obtaining objects just ‘lying around’ or twinkled with value. It wasn’t an easy life, but it was certainly thrilling, and it was the thrills that La’ora was after, ever addicted to the adrenaline which flooded her veins. Some were hooked on Skooma, while this particular thief got her kicks from of espionage and near-impossible or<em>implausible</em>heists. It was she who stole the heirloom diamond necklace belonging to the Jarl of Markarth. She who planted the evidence against the noble born Drevis of Solitude. She who raided an entire Imperial camp, plucking every last septim from hiding only to arrange it in neat little piles in the center of camp. Just to prove her point.<br/><br/>But who was bragging?<br/><br/>Information was often more valuable than rubies, and with the right sort of information, you could convince others that the most precious of the flawless rubies were worth nothing. It was a fine art that was often overlooked, yet made this particular thief a valuable asset. So it wasn’t unheard of, with her reputation and her talents, that there were those willing to pay the right price for whatever information she might provide. And if she didn’t happen to possess it? Well… research was another avenue she excelled at, and it was only a matter of time before she obtained its secrets.<br/><br/>Information told her valuable things. Like, there was a halfblood walking about, talking loudly, asking for her by name and digging into the corners of her city for anyone who would listen. There was a curious fellow, some had said, set with determination and a mean set of fists to obtain answers. But the thief didn’t go running, nor did she scoff and wave away this opportunity. The test was already accomplished; Valix sat on his cot even still, wrists wrapped in cloth, nursing a foul tasting potion that got the job done, as soon as you managed to swallow the swill. His wrists will heal in time, and she had rewarded him enough to make it worth his time. All that remained was controlling this opportunity, discover the source, and milk it for all it’s worth.<br/><br/>She was a tiny thing in comparison to most, far from imposing, with a face often shrouded in shadows with the exception of her crooked smirk. The same smile (which often got her in trouble), was prominent now. La’ora crouched on the roof above the meeting point, watching the figure as he hunched behind the barrels, hardly distinguishable between one or the other. A novice in the arts would overlook him; the occasional patrol of the guard hadn’t even hesitated as the man strolled across the docks, armored boots echoing quietly in the early morning air.<br/><br/>Meeting someone while their hands were set on the hilt of both blades was often a bad sign that meant they wished to poke you full of holes. She had no intention of getting pricked. Silently, like the wind brushing through the fog, La’ora moved across the roof so that she angled herself behind the young man, who appeared to expect her to come from around the corner. Positioning herself into a crouch was easy enough, she even casually stepped off the edge of the roof, catching the large support beam with her hands as she passed down to slow her decent. With feather-light steps she positioned herself on the dock, already well versed in which boards to avoid, less they creaked. Caution, always.<br/><br/>With a flair for dramatics, La’ora crossed her arms at her chest, turning up the volume of her grin before leaning against a supportive pole not far from the halfblood. She wasn’t in easy arm’s reach, which gave her more room around his blade should he try to make an attack on her, yet she wasn’t far away from him, either. Close enough to take note of his ashy skin and the tightly set clench of his jaw. Nervous or apprehensive? She didn’t care.<br/><br/>“Expecting someone?” Her voice belonged in the bedroom, not out here on the docks; ready for a fight should one come her way. It was husky in the way all women desired, yet warm with the ever-present touch of humor. Humor which matched the crooked smirk still plastered on her face. The thief was amused, yet it was too dark and her cowl set too low for the sparkle of mirth to be visible in her eyes.