It's okay if you don't like me.
Finishing up her business with a local connection, Thal pulls her hood up and steps into the path of the port. Her eyes do a single sweep before she slips into an easy saunter down the planks. The black cloak keeps the rain from soaking into the cloth and leather beneath, disguising her identity only to those who don't know to look for the impression of her horns against the fabric or the flick of her blue-black tail.
Most of the merchants have taken the dreary day as a loss, storing their goods until the weather clears to bring back the eager tourists. Only a few seedy places stay open, granting her a nod when she passes on the empty street. Whether they recognize her or acknowledge that the clip of her boots isn't the strolling kind, Thal doesn't much care. She keeps her attention forward, making it easy to spot the flash of silver when it glints through the air.
Her steps turn silent, a predator on the move. With a wiggle of her fingers and a sharp grin, Thal darts forward, blinking in and out of existence until she walks casually in front of the man, the coin slipping easily into the pocket of her cloak. It's almost too easy.
Most of the merchants have taken the dreary day as a loss, storing their goods until the weather clears to bring back the eager tourists. Only a few seedy places stay open, granting her a nod when she passes on the empty street. Whether they recognize her or acknowledge that the clip of her boots isn't the strolling kind, Thal doesn't much care. She keeps her attention forward, making it easy to spot the flash of silver when it glints through the air.
Her steps turn silent, a predator on the move. With a wiggle of her fingers and a sharp grin, Thal darts forward, blinking in and out of existence until she walks casually in front of the man, the coin slipping easily into the pocket of her cloak. It's almost too easy.
Not everyone has good taste.
Thalassa
