Theo had learned some lessons from the attack he'd suffered -- just not the one his attacker had intended to teach him. He didn't go into dark alleys anymore, not if he could help it; he spent his time in public places, and tried to sleep on the streets less, forking over more of his hard-earned (read: stolen) trinkets for boarding houses. He did everything to protect himself except following his attacker's orders.
For here Theo was, incorrigible, using his telekinesis and illusions to steal again. He moved through the marketplace easily, distracting someone with an illusory sound while his hand slipped into their pocket, chatting with a stall-keeper while his telekinesis lifted their goods. He'd done well tonight, and he expected to sleep warm -- he might even be able to afford a private room. Or was that a waste?
Exiting the market, Theo didn't duck through an alley this time, but stayed on the public paths. If there were fewer people on this one than he would like, well, that was out of his control, wasn't it?
For here Theo was, incorrigible, using his telekinesis and illusions to steal again. He moved through the marketplace easily, distracting someone with an illusory sound while his hand slipped into their pocket, chatting with a stall-keeper while his telekinesis lifted their goods. He'd done well tonight, and he expected to sleep warm -- he might even be able to afford a private room. Or was that a waste?
Exiting the market, Theo didn't duck through an alley this time, but stayed on the public paths. If there were fewer people on this one than he would like, well, that was out of his control, wasn't it?
Theo
"Poker" by ND Strupler is licensed with CC BY 2.0.
